chinks
between the door and the wall serving, in one instance, to cut off in
the middle his wise majesty, who was making a low bow; while in the
other it took the ground from under the wanton queen, just as she was
descending from her chariot.

Near the window stood a grand piano, the only modern article in the
room, save one of the portraits, presently to be described. On all this
Evelyn gazed silently and devoutly: she had naturally that reverence for
genius which is common to the enthusiastic and young; and there is,
even to the dullest, a certain interest in the homes of those who have
implanted within us a new thought. But here there was, she imagined,
a rare and singular harmony between the place and the mental
characteristics of the owner. She fancied she now better understood the
shadowy and metaphysical repose of thought that had distinguished the
earlier writings of Maltravers,--the writings composed or planned in
this still retreat.

But what particularly caught her attention was one of the two portraits
that adorned the mantelpieces. The further one was attired in the rich
and fanciful armour of the time of Elizabeth; the head bare, the helmet
on a table on which the hand rested. It was a handsome and striking
countenance; and an inscription announced it to be a Digby, an ancestor
of Maltravers.

But the other was a beautiful girl of about eighteen, in the now almost
antiquated dress of forty years ago. The features were delicate, but
the colours somewhat faded, and there was something mournful in the
expression. A silk curtain, drawn on one side, seemed to denote how
carefully it was prized by the possessor.

Evelyn turned for explanation to her cicerone.

"This is the second time I have seen that picture," said Caroline; "for
it is only by great entreaty and as a mysterious favour that the old
housekeeper draws aside the veil. Some touch of sentiment in Maltravers
makes him regard it as sacred. It is the picture of his mother before
she married; she died in giving him birth."

Evelyn sighed; how well she understood the sentiment which seemed to
Caroline so eccentric! The countenance fascinated her; the eye seemed to
follow her as she turned.

"As a proper pendant to this picture," said Caroline, "he ought to have
dismissed the effigies of yon warlike gentleman, and replaced it by
one of poor Lady Florence Lascelles, for whose loss he is said to have
quitted his country: but, perhaps, it was the lo