over her father's
shoulder.

They went into dinner a few moments later, and Sir Iltyd talked a
good deal. Although a man of somewhat narrow limitations and one-sided
views, as was but natural, taking into consideration the fact that his
mental horizon had not been widened out by contact with his
fellow-men for twenty-five years, he was, for a recluse, surprisingly
well-informed upon the topics of the day. Dartmouth could not forbear
making some allusion to the apparent paradox, and his host smiled and
told him that as history had been his favorite study all his life, he
could hardly be so inconsistent as to ignore the work which his more
active contemporaries were making for the future chronicler. He
then drew from Dartmouth a detailed account of that restless young
gentleman's political experience in Russia, and afterward questioned
him somewhat minutely about the American form of government. He seemed
to be pleased with the felicity of expression and the well-stored mind
of his would-be son-in-law, and lingered at the table longer than was
his habit. There were no formalities at Rhyd-Alwyn. Weir remained
with them, and when her father finally rose and went over to the
hearth-rug, as if loth to leave the society of the young people, she
went and stood beside him. He laid his arm across her shoulders, then
turned to Dartmouth with a sigh. "You would take her from me," he
said, sadly, "do you know that you will leave me to a very lonely
life?"

"Oh, you will see enough of us," replied Harold, promptly. "We shall
be back and forth all the time. And Crumford Hall, I can assure you,
is not a bad place to come to for the shooting."

Sir Iltyd shook his head: "I could not live out of Wales," he said;
"and I have not slept under another roof for a quarter of a century.
But it is good of you to say you would not mind coming once in a while
to this lonely old place, and it would make the separation easier to
bear."

He left them shortly after, and as he took Harold's hand in
good-night, he retained it a moment with an approving smile, then
passed a characteristic Welsh criticism: "It is a small hand," he
said, "and a very well-shaped hand; and your feet, too. I am willing
to acknowledge to you that I am weak enough to have a horror of large
hands and feet. Good-night. I have to thank you for a very pleasant
evening."

II.

"Harold," said Weir, the next morning after breakfast, as the door
closed behind Sir Ilt