. Perhaps it was
Lady Hammerton the collector, originally guilty, you remember, in the
matter of the forged Augustus."

"Mildred had only to peep in any glass to see Lady Hammerton, or some
one sufficiently like her," observed Meres.

"That idea was started when David Fletcher picked up the fancy picture
which he chose to call a portrait of Lady Hammerton," cried Lady
Thomson, who was just taking her leave. "Such nonsense! I protest
against my own niece and a scholar of Ascham being likened to that
scandalous woman."

Cyril Meres smiled and stroked his soft, silvery beard.

"Quite right of you to protest, Beatrice. Still, I'm glad Lady Hammerton
didn't stick heroically to her Professor--as Mildred here does. We
should never have been proud of her as an ancestress if she had."

"Heroically?" repeated Maxwell Davison under his breath, and laughed.
But the meaning of his laugh was lost on every one except Mildred. She
flushed hotly at the thought of having to bear the responsibility of
that ridiculous scene on the Cherwell; it was humiliating, indeed. She
took up the crystal to conceal her chagrin.

"Do please see something, Mrs. Stewart!" exclaimed Miss Ormond.

"What sort of thing?"

"Anything! Whatever you see, it will be quite thrilling.

"Please see me, Mrs. Stewart," petitioned Goring, wandering towards the
crystal-gazer. "I should so like to thrill Miss Ormond."

"It's no good your trying that way," smiled the lady, playing fine eyes.
"It's only shadows that are thrilling in the crystal; shadows of
something happening a long way off; or sometimes a coming event casts a
shadow before--and that's the most thrilling of all."

"A coming event! That's exactly what I am, a tremendous coming Political
Event. You ask them in the House," cried Goring, thrusting out his chin
and aiming a provocative side-smile at a middle-aged Under-Secretary of
State who discreetly admired Miss Ormond.

"Modest creature!" ejaculated the Under-Secretary playfully with his
lips; and in his heart vindictively, "Conceited devil!"

"Please see me, Mrs. Stewart!" pleaded Goring, half kneeling on a chair
and leaning over the crystal.

"I do," she returned. "I'd rather not. You look so distorted and odd;
and so do I, don't I? Dreadful! But the crystal's getting cloudy."

"Then you're going really to see something!" exclaimed Miss Ormond. "How
delightful! Come away directly, Mr. Goring, or you'll spoil everything."

Sir Cyril and D