be waiting. Could it really be waiting for him? The partitions which
had been probed by Barnet's walking-stick when the mortar was green, were
now quite brown with the antiquity of their varnish, and the ornamental
woodwork of the staircase, which had glistened with a pale yellow newness
when first erected, was now of a rich wine-colour. During the servant's
absence the following colloquy could be dimly heard through the nearly
closed door of the drawing-room.

'He didn't give his name?'

'He only said "an old friend," ma'am.'

'What kind of gentleman is he?'

'A staidish gentleman, with gray hair.'

The voice of the second speaker seemed to affect the listener greatly.
After a pause, the lady said, 'Very well, I will see him.'

And the stranger was shown in face to face with the Lucy who had once
been Lucy Savile. The round cheek of that formerly young lady had, of
course, alarmingly flattened its curve in her modern representative; a
pervasive grayness overspread her once dark brown hair, like morning rime
on heather. The parting down the middle was wide and jagged; once it had
been a thin white line, a narrow crevice between two high banks of shade.
But there was still enough left to form a handsome knob behind, and some
curls beneath inwrought with a few hairs like silver wires were very
becoming. In her eyes the only modification was that their originally
mild rectitude of expression had become a little more stringent than
heretofore. Yet she was still girlish--a girl who had been gratuitously
weighted by destiny with a burden of five-and-forty years instead of her
proper twenty.

'Lucy, don't you know me?' he said, when the servant had closed the door.

'I knew you the instant I saw you!' she returned cheerfully. 'I don't
know why, but I always thought you would come back to your old town
again.'

She gave him her hand, and then they sat down. 'They said you were
dead,' continued Lucy, 'but I never thought so. We should have heard of
it for certain if you had been.'

'It is a very long time since we met.'

'Yes; what you must have seen, Mr. Barnet, in all these roving years, in
comparison with what I have seen in this quiet place!' Her face grew
more serious. 'You know my husband has been dead a long time? I am a
lonely old woman now, considering what I have been; though Mr. Downe's
daughters--all married--manage to keep me pretty cheerful.'

'And I am a lonely old man, and have been an