reminiscence.

"You look as though you had had good news," said Sir James Chide, as he
paused beside her on his way through the drawing-room. He was not a
sportsman; nor was Mr. Ferrier.

His eyes rested upon her with such a kind interest, his manner showed so
plainly yet again that he desired to be her friend, that Diana
responded at once.

"I have found a cousin!" she said, gayly, and told the story of her
expected visitor.

Outwardly--perfunctorily--Sir James's aspect while she was speaking
answered to hers. If she was pleased, he was pleased too. He
congratulated her; he entered into her schemes for Miss Merton's
amusement. Really, all the time, the man's aspect was singularly grave,
he listened carefully to every word; he observed the speaker.

"The young lady's mother is your aunt?"

"She was my mother's sister."

"And they have been long in Barbadoes?"

"I think they migrated there just about the same time we went
abroad--after my mother's death."

Sir James said little. He encouraged her to talk on; he listened to the
phrases of memory or expectation which revealed her history--her
solitary bringing-up--her reserved and scholarly father--the singular
closeness, and yet as it seemed strangeness of her relation to him. It
appeared, for instance, that it was only an accident, some years before,
which had revealed to Diana the very existence of these cousins. Her
father had never spoken of them spontaneously.

"I hope she will be everything that is charming and delightful," he said
at last as he rose. "And remember--I am to come and see you!"

He stooped his gray head, and gently touched her hand with an old man's
freedom.

Diana warmly renewed her invitation.

"There is a house near you that I often go to--Sir William Felton's. I
am to be there in a few weeks. Perhaps I shall even be able to make
acquaintance with Miss Fanny!"

He walked away from her.

Diana could not see the instant change of countenance which accompanied
the movement. Urbanity, gentleness, kind indulgence vanished. Sir James
looked anxious and disturbed; and he seemed to be talking to himself.

The rest of the morning passed heavily. Diana wrote some letters, and
devoutly hoped the rain would stop. In the intervals of her
letter-writing, or her study of the clouds, she tried to make friends
with Miss Drake and Mrs. Fotheringham. But neither effort came to good.
Alicia, so expansive, so theatrical, so much the centre of the