-figure of a naval officer in uniform, grasping a telescope under his
left arm, who stood forth clearly as not of their kith and kin. His eyes
were blue, his hair light, his bearing that of a man who knows how to
carry his head and shoulders. The artist, while giving him an epaulette
to indicate his rank, had also recorded the juvenility which a lieutenant
in the naval service can retain after arriving at that position, by
painting him with smooth cheeks and fresh ruddy lips. To this portrait
Richard's eyes were directed. Farmer Blaize observed it, and said--

"Her father, sir!"

Richard moderated his voice to praise the likeness.

"Yes," said the farmer, "pretty well. Next best to havin' her, though
it's a long way off that!"

"An old family, Mr. Blaize--is it not?" Richard asked in as careless a
tone as he could assume.

"Gentlefolks--what's left of 'em," replied the farmer with an equally
affected indifference.

"And that's her father?" said Richard, growing bolder to speak of her.

"That's her father, young gentleman!"

"Mr. Blaize," Richard turned to face him, and burst out, "where is she?"

"Gone, sir! packed off!--Can't have her here now." The farmer thrummed a
step brisker, and eyed the young man's wild face resolutely.

"Mr. Blaize," Richard leaned forward to get closer to him. He was
stunned, and hardly aware of what he was saying or doing: "Where has she
gone? Why did she leave?"

"You needn't to ask, sir--ye know," said the farmer, with a side shot of
his head.

"But she did not--it was not her wish to go?"

"No! I think she likes the place. Mayhap she likes't too well!"

"Why did you send her away to make her unhappy, Mr. Blaize?"

The farmer bluntly denied it was he was the party who made her unhappy.
"Nobody can't accuse me. Tell ye what, sir. I wunt have the busybodies
set to work about her, and there's all the matter. So let you and I come
to an understandin'."

A blind inclination to take offence made Richard sit upright. He forgot
it the next minute, and said humbly: "Am I the cause of her going?"

"Well!" returned the farmer, "to speak straight--ye be!"

"What can I do, Mr. Blaize, that she may come back again" the young
hypocrite asked.

"Now," said the farmer, "you're coming to business. Glad to hear ye talk
in that sensible way, Mr. Feverel. You may guess I wants her bad enough.
The house ain't itself now she's away, and I ain't myself. Well, sir!
This ye can do. If you give