of a far greater age than fifty-eight,
there was the stoop of rheumatism, and a worn, thin look on the face,
with its high cheek bones, narrow lips, and cold eyes, by no means
winning. On the other hand, he was the most finished gentleman that
Grace and Rachel had ever encountered; he had all the gallant polish of
manner that the old Scottish nobility have inherited from the French
of the old regime--a manner that, though Colin possessed all its
essentials, had been in some degree rubbed off in the frankness of
his military life, but which the old nobleman retained in its full
perfection. Mrs. Curtis admired it extremely as a specimen of the "old
school," for which she had never ceased to mourn; and Rachel felt as if
it took her breath away by the likeness to Louis XIV.; but, strange to
say, Lady Temple acted as if she were quite in her element. It might be
that the old man's courtesy brought back to her something of the tender
chivalry of her soldier husband, and that a sort of filial friendliness
had become natural to her towards an elderly man, for she responded
at once, and devoted herself to pleasing and entertaining him. Their
civilities were something quite amusing to watch, and in the evening,
with a complete perception of his tastes, she got up a rubber for him.

"Can you bear it? You will not like to play?" murmured the colonel to
her, as he rung for the cards, recollecting the many evenings of whist
with her mother and Sir Stephen.

"Oh! I don't mind. I like anything like old times, and my aunt does not
like playing--"

No, for Mrs. Curtis had grown up in a family where cards were
disapproved, and she felt it a sad fall in Fanny to be playing with all
the skill of her long training, and receiving grand compliments
from Lord Keith on joint victories over the two colonels. It was a
distasteful game to all but the players, for Rachel felt slightly hurt
at the colonel's defection, and Mr. Touchett, with somewhat of Mrs.
Curtis's feeling that it was a backsliding in Lady Temple, suddenly
grew absent in a conversation that he was holding with young Mr. Keith
upon--of all subjects in the world--lending library books, and finally
repaired to the piano, where Grace was playing her mother's favourite
music, in hopes of distracting her mind from Fanny's enormity; and there
he stood, mechanically thanking Miss Curtis, but all the time turning a
melancholy eye upon the game. Alick Keith, meanwhile, sat himself down
nea