se. Oliver would like to whitewash them--but for filial
piety. People might suppose him ashamed of his origin. No, no!--I mean
those two or three old pictures at the end of the room. Come and look at
them--they are on our way."

He led her to inspect them. They proved to be two Gainsboroughs and a
Raeburn, representing ancestors on Lady Lucy's side. Mr. Ferrier's talk
of them showed his intimate knowledge both of Varleys and Marshams, the
knowledge rather of a kinsman than a friend. Diana perceived, indeed,
how great must be the affection, the intimacy, between him and them.

Meanwhile, as the man of fifty and the slender girl in black passed
before him, on their way to examine the pictures, Sir James Chide,
casually looking up, was apparently struck by some rapid and powerful
impression. It arrested the hand playing with the dog; it held and
transformed the whole man. His eyes, open as though in astonishment or
pain, followed every movement of Diana, scrutinized every look and
gesture. His face had flushed slightly--his lips were parted. He had the
aspect of one trying eagerly, passionately, to follow up some clew that
would not unwind itself; and every now and then he bent
forward--listening--trying to catch her voice.

Presently the inspection was over. Diana turned and beckoned to Mrs.
Colwood. The two ladies went toward the drawing-room, Mr. Ferrier
showing the way.

When he returned to the hall, Sir James Chide, its sole occupant, was
walking up and down.

"Who was that young lady?" said Sir James, turning abruptly.

"Isn't she charming? Her name is Mallory--and she has just settled at
Beechcote, near here. That small fair lady was her companion. Oliver
tells me she is an orphan--well off--with no kith or kin. She has just
come to England, it seems, for the first time. Her father brought her up
abroad away from everybody. She will have a success! But of all the
little Jingoes!"

Mr. Ferrier's face expressed an amused recollection of some of Diana's
speeches.

"Mallory?" said Sir James, under his breath--"_Mallory?_" He walked to
the window, and stood looking out, his hands in his pockets.

Mr. Ferrier went up-stairs to write letters. In a few minutes the man at
the window came slowly back toward the fire, staring at the ground.

"The look in the eyes!" he said to himself--"the mouth!--the voice!"

He stood by the vast and pompous fireplace--hanging over the blaze--the
prey of some profound agitation,