e comely
youth in Dr. Craig's gig, and guessed at once who he might be. Three
months had passed since the collapse of Lady Butts' well-meant little
scheme, and no one had stepped into the cast-off shoes of her
philosophical nephew--and Leonore had been bored, sadly bored. True, Val
was there, but since his perfunctory declaration, Val had lost his
savour. Up till then, Leo had not been sufficiently certain of his real
sentiments to make his company uninteresting, and had decided to probe
them by way of experiment--but the excitement of the interview had
fizzled out, and his honesty did him no service in the eyes of his
charmer. She would now bring him straight in to where her sisters were
assembled, if met outside--and as he was always happy and at home among
them, he had not the wit to perceive that things had changed.

Consequently the coast was clear for George Butts, and he had his
ephemeral hour; and then?--then there rose above the dull, tame level of
the horizon a new object.

What! He was beneath her? She would never have looked at him, still less
spoken to him? Oh, my dear incredulous sir, or madam, how much or how
little do you who pronounce thus know of human nature? Have you ever
felt what it is to have an eye, blue or grey or what not, a mute,
appealing, impassioned eye, flashing into yours its secret?--and have
you cared to reckon coldly its owner's claims to your notice? You
bearded widower, with your family of big girls and boys, what about that
little lodging-house keeper at the sea-side, who welcomes your most
trivial order reverentially, who hardly ever speaks, but gives you one
long look as she leaves the room? The humble soul has no idea of
betraying herself, and as for you--you are resolved that if you marry
again, it shall be well and prudently--but you can't forget that look.

And you, great lady of the manor, what takes you so often to the hot,
stuffy, little village school-house, where the master, with awe upon his
brow, in silence hands you copy-books and samplers? He hardly emits a
syllable, but his soul flames beneath those weary eyelids--poor wretch,
poor wretch!

Leonore having uttered a few commonplaces to a companion delayed like
herself, chanced to glance directly at him. To her he was virtually a
stranger, and, to do her justice, she would have talked to any stranger,
obeying the sociable instincts which she alone of her family
possessed--but to find a pair of fine, dark, luminous