rtain Mr. Flaxman, brother to a pretty little neighbour of ours in
Surrey--Lady Helen Varley--and nephew to Lady Charlotte. I have not seen
him here before; but I think the girls like him.'

'Is he the Flaxman who got the mathematical prize at Berlin last year?'

'Yes, I believe so. A striking person altogether. He is enormously rich,
Lady Helen tells me, in spite of an elder brother. All the money in his
mother's family has come to him, and he is the heir to Lord Daniel's
great Derbyshire property. Twelve years ago I used to hear him talked
about incessantly by the Cambridge men one met. "Citizen Flaxman" they
called him, for his opinions' sake. He would ask his scout to dinner,
and insist on dining with his own servants, and shaking hands with his
friends' butlers. The scouts and the butlers put an end to that, and
altogether, I imagine, the world disappointed him. He has a story, poor
fellow, too--a young wife, who died with her first baby ten years ago.
The world supposes him never to have got over it, which makes him all
the more interesting. A distinguished face, don't you think?--the good
type of English aristocrat.'

Langham assented. But his attention was fixed on the group in which
Rose's bright hair was conspicuous; and when Robert left him and went to
amuse Mrs. Leyburn, he still stood rooted to the same spot watching.
Rose was leaning against the piano, one hand behind her, her whole
attitude full of a young, easy, self-confident grace. Mr. Flaxman was
standing beside her, and they were deep in talk--serious talk
apparently, to judge by her quiet manner and the charmed attentive
interest of his look. Occasionally, however, there was a sally on her
part, and an answering flash of laughter on his; but the stream of
conversation closed immediately over the interruption, and flowed on as
evenly as before.

Unconsciously Langham retreated farther and farther into the comparative
darkness of the inner room. He felt himself singularly insignificant and
out of place, and he made no more efforts to talk. Rose played a violin
solo, and played it with astonishing delicacy and fire. When it was over
Langham saw her turn from the applauding circle crowding in upon her and
throw a smiling interrogative look over her shoulder at Mr. Flaxman. Mr.
Flaxman bent over her, and as he spoke Langham caught her flush, and the
excited sparkle of her eyes. Was this the 'some one in the stream'? No
doubt!--no doubt!

When the pa