one for a moment on that enigmatic face.

There stood the _roue_--the duellist--and, with all his faults, the hero
too! In that dark large eye lurked the profound and fiery enthusiasm of his
ill-starred passion. In the thin but exquisite lip I read the courage of
the paladin, who would have 'fought his way,' though single-handed, against
all the magnates of his county, and by ordeal of battle have purged the
honour of the Ruthyns. There in that delicate half-sarcastic tracery of the
nostril I detected the intellectual defiance which had politically isolated
Silas Ruthyn and opposed him to the landed oligarchy of his county, whose
retaliation had been a hideous slander. There, too, and on his brows and
lip, I traced the patience of a cold disdain. I could now see him as he
was--the prodigal, the hero, and the martyr. I stood gazing on him with a
girlish interest and admiration. There was indignation, there was pity,
there was hope. Some day it might come to pass that I, girl as I was, might
contribute by word or deed towards the vindication of that long-suffering,
gallant, and romantic prodigal. It was a flicker of the Joan of Arc
inspiration, common, I fancy, to many girls. I little then imagined how
profoundly and strangely involved my uncle's fate would one day become with
mine.

I was interrupted by Captain Oakley's voice at the window. He was leaning
on the window-sill, and looking in with a smile--the window being open, the
morning sunny, and his cap lifted in his hand.

'Good-morning, Miss Ruthyn. What a charming old place! quite the setting
for a romance; such timber, and this really _beautiful_ house. I _do_ so
like these white and black houses--wonderful old things. By-the-by, you
treated us very badly last night--you did, indeed; upon my word, now, it
really was too bad--running away, and drinking tea with Lady Knollys--so
she says. I really--I should not like to tell you how very savage I felt,
particularly considering how very short my time is.'

I was a shy, but not a giggling country miss. I knew I was an heiress; I
knew I was somebody. I was not the least bit in the world conceited, but
I think this knowledge helped to give me a certain sense of security and
self-possession, which might have been mistaken for dignity or simplicity.
I am sure I looked at him with a fearless enquiry, for he answered my
thoughts.

'I do really assure you, Miss Ruthyn, I am quite serious; you have no idea
how very much we