ss poignant. He
unconsciously found himself anticipating the next glimpse of his old
friend with a touch of curiosity; and when the announcement of dinner
broke in upon his meditations, he was surprised at the readiness with
which he obeyed the summons.

His first sight of the dining-room came pleasantly to his senses,
numbed by the long drive and the bare coldness of his bedroom. It was
large and lofty: three long curtained windows occupied one of its
walls, while from the others numerous pictures of the dead-and-gone
Asshlins looked out of their canvases from tarnished gold frames; the
mahogany furniture, though of an ugly and ungainly type, was massive;
and over the whole room, softening its severity and hiding the ravages
of time, lay the warm red glow of a huge peat fire and the radiance of
a dozen candles set in heavy silver sconces.

He stood for a moment in the doorway, agreeably conscious of the
mingled shadow and light; then his attention was attracted to two
figures already occupying the room.

Asshlin himself was standing by the hearth, his back to the fire, his
feet apart, while by his side, in evident nervous embarrassment; stood
a little girl of nine or ten. Instantly he saw his guest, Asshlin put
his hand on the child's shoulder and pushed her forward.

"Here's the youngest shoot on the old tree, James!" he cried with a
laugh. "Shake hands with him, Nance!"

Somewhat uncertainly and very shyly the child looked up and smiled. She
was extremely pretty, with a gipsy-like prettiness new to Milbanke. The
only attribute she had inherited from her father's family was the clear
olive skin--that distinguished all the Asshlins. Her dark brown hair,
her deep blue eyes, her peculiarly winning smile, had all come to her
from her dead mother.

With an embarrassment almost equal to her own, Milbanke extended his
hand. The average modern child he ignored with comfortable superiority,
but this small girl, with her warm smile and her overwhelming shyness,
was something infinitely more different to deal with. He shifted his
position uneasily.

"How d'you do?" he hazarded. "How d'you do--Nance?"

The little brown fingers stirred nervously in his clasp, and the child,
still smiling, made some totally unintelligible reply.

With a boisterous laugh, Asshlin ended the situation.

"Easily known you're not a father, James!" he cried. "Why, you'd have
given her a kiss and clinched the business fifty seconds ago. But
y