ver truly enter into. I am
less and less his daughter every day that goes by.'

She walked away a few steps to rejoin the excellent Mrs. Goodman, who,
as Somerset still perceived, was waiting for Paula at the discreetest
of distances in the shadows at the farther end of the building. Surely
Paula's voice had faltered, and she had turned to hide a tear?

She came back again. 'Did you know that my father made half the railways
in Europe, including that one over there?' she said, waving her little
gloved hand in the direction whence low rumbles were occasionally heard
during the day.

'Yes.'

'How did you know?'

'Miss De Stancy told me a little; and I then found his name and doings
were quite familiar to me.'

Curiously enough, with his words there came through the broken windows
the murmur of a train in the distance, sounding clearer and more clear.
It was nothing to listen to, yet they both listened; till the increasing
noise suddenly broke off into dead silence.

'It has gone into the tunnel,' said Paula. 'Have you seen the tunnel my
father made? the curves are said to be a triumph of science. There is
nothing else like it in this part of England.'

'There is not: I have heard so. But I have not seen it.'

'Do you think it a thing more to be proud of that one's father should
have made a great tunnel and railway like that, than that one's remote
ancestor should have built a great castle like this?'

What could Somerset say? It would have required a casuist to decide
whether his answer should depend upon his conviction, or upon the family
ties of such a questioner. 'From a modern point of view, railways are,
no doubt, things more to be proud of than castles,' he said; 'though
perhaps I myself, from mere association, should decide in favour of the
ancestor who built the castle.' The serious anxiety to be truthful that
Somerset threw into his observation, was more than the circumstance
required. 'To design great engineering works,' he added musingly, and
without the least eye to the disparagement of her parent, 'requires
no doubt a leading mind. But to execute them, as he did, requires, of
course, only a following mind.'

His reply had not altogether pleased her; and there was a distinct
reproach conveyed by her slight movement towards Mrs. Goodman. He saw
it, and was grieved that he should have spoken so. 'I am going to walk
over and inspect that famous tunnel of your father's,' he added gently.
'It will be