o
enter on the intended discussion. The captain was very gentle towards
him, and talk was made on other topics but gradually something of the
influence of the familiar scene where his brightest days had been passed,
began to prevail. All was like old times--the quaint old silver kettle
and lamp, the pattern of the china cups, the ruddy play of the fire on
the polished panels of the room--and he began to revive and join the
conversation. They spoke of Delaroche's beautiful Madonnas, one of which
was at the time to be seen at a print-shop--'Yes,' said Mr. Sandbrook,
'and little Owen cried out as soon as he saw it, "That lady, the lady
with the flowery watch."'

Honora smiled. It was an allusion to the old jests upon her auburn
locks, 'a greater compliment to her than to Delaroche,' she said; 'I saw
that he was extremely curious to ascertain what my carrots were made of.'

'Do you know, Nora, I never saw more than one person with such hair as
yours,' said Owen, with more animation, 'and oddly enough her name turned
out to be Charlecote.'

'Impossible! Humfrey and I are the only Charlecotes left that I know of!
Where could it have been?'

'It was at Toronto. I must confess that I was struck by the brilliant
hair in chapel. Afterwards I met her once or twice. She was a Canadian
born, and had just married a settler, whose name I can't remember, but
her maiden name had certainly been Charlecote; I remembered it because of
the coincidence.'

'Very curious; I did not know there had been any Charlecotes but
ourselves.'

'And Humfrey Charlecote has never married?'

'Never.'

What made Owen raise his eyes at that moment, just so that she met them?
and why did that dreadful uncontrollable crimson heat come mounting up
over cheeks and temples, tingling and spreading into her very neck, just
because it was the most hateful thing that could happen? And he saw it.
She knew he did so, for he dropped his eyes at once, and there was an
absolute silence, which she broke in desperation, by an incoherent
attempt to say something, and that ended by blundering into the tender
subject--the children; she found she had been talking about the place to
which she thought of taking them, a quiet spot on the northern coast of
Somersetshire.

He could bear the pang a little better now, and assented, and the ice
once broken, there were so many details and injunctions that lay near his
heart that the conversation never flagged. He ha