my memory. My husband might help me, if you don't object to
my asking him," she added slyly.

Stella snatched the drawing away from her, in terror. "You don't mean
that you will tell Lord Loring?" she said.

"My dear child! how can you be so foolish? Can't I show him the drawing
without mentioning who it was done by? His memory is a much better one
than mine. If I say to him, 'Where did we meet that man?'--he may tell
me at once--he may even remember the name. Of course, if you like to be
kept in suspense, you have only to say so. It rests with you to decide."

Poor Stella gave way directly. She returned the drawing, and
affectionately kissed her artful friend. Having now secured the means of
consulting her husband without exciting suspicion, Lady Loring left the
room.

At that time in the morning, Lord Loring was generally to be found
either in the library or the picture gallery. His wife tried the library
first. On entering the room, she found but one person in it--not the
person of whom she was in search. There, buttoned up in his long frock
coat, and surrounded by books of all sorts and sizes, sat the plump
elderly priest who had been the especial object of Major Hynd's
aversion.

"I beg your pardon, Father Benwell," said Lady Loring; "I hope I don't
interrupt your studies?"

Father Benwell rose and bowed with a pleasant paternal smile. "I am only
trying to organize an improved arrangement of the library," he said,
simply. "Books are companionable creatures--members, as it were, of his
family, to a lonely old priest like myself. Can I be of any service to
your ladyship?"

"Thank you, Father. If you can kindly tell me where Lord Loring is--"

"To be sure! His lordship was here five minutes since--he is now in the
picture gallery. Pray permit me!"

With a remarkably light and easy step for a man of his age and size, he
advanced to the further end of the library, and opened a door which led
into the gallery.

"Lord Loring is among the pictures," he announced. "And alone." He laid
a certain emphasis on the last word, which might or might not (in
the case of a spiritual director of the household) invite a word of
explanation.

Lady Loring merely said, "Just what I wanted; thank you once more,
Father Benwell"--and passed into the picture gallery.

Left by himself again in the library, the priest walked slowly to and
fro, thinking. His latent power and resolution began to show themselves
darkly in his face.