est man, named Blake--Bernard Blake--a
grandson of the famous Blake of Cambridge."

Lady Blanchemain fixed him with darkening eyes.

"Are you sure?" she pleaded.

"I saw it officially stated in the _Morning Post_," was John's
relentless answer.

"What a nuisance," said Lady Blanchemain, fanning. Her fan was of amber
tortoise-shell, with white ostrich feathers, and the end sticks bore her
cypher and coronet in gold.

"What a jolly fan," said John.

"Well, well," said Lady Blanchemain, reconciling herself. Then, after an
instant of pensiveness, "So you're already laid low by her beauty. But
you haven't found out yet who she is?"

"Who who is?" said John, looking all at sea.

"Tut. Don't tease. Your woman at the castle."

"My woman at the castle appeared to leave you cold," he complained. "I
arrived full of her, and you wouldn't listen."

"So you're already in love with her?" said Lady Blanchemain.

"No--not yet," said he. "As yet I merely recognize in her admirable
material for a painting, and regret that such material should go begging
for the lack of a painter. But by this time to-morrow--who can tell?"

"Have you found out who she is?" asked Lady Blanchemain.

"No--not yet," said he. "As yet I've merely found out that she's
visiting an Austrian Signora Brandi, who lives (I can't think why) in
the pavilion beyond the clock. But by this time to-morrow!" His gesture
spoke volumes of prospective information.

"She looked like a gentlewoman," reflected his friend.

"For all the world," said he.

"Yet, if she's an Austrian--" She paused and pondered.

"Why? What's the difficulty?" said he.

"To know whether she is _born_," said Lady Blanchemain. "Among
Austrians, unless you're born, you're impossible, you're nowhere. Brandi
doesn't sound born, does it? We mustn't let you become enamoured of her
if she isn't born."

"Brandi sounds tremendously _un_born," assented John. "And if like
visits like, Signora Brandi's visitor will probably be unborn too. But
to me that would rather add an attraction,--provided she's _bred_. I'm
not an Austrian. I'm a Briton and a democrat. I feel it is my destiny,
if ever I am to become enamoured at all, to become enamoured of the
daughter of a miller,--of a rising miller, who has given his daughter
advantages. 'Bred, not Born: or the Lady of the Mill'--that shall be the
title of my humble heart-history. If this woman could prove to me that
she was the daughter of a miller, I