eems to me."

"He's very honest about it," said Warburton. "Makes no pretences--calls
his painting a trick, and really feels surprised, I'm sure, that he's
so successful."

"Poor Norbert! A good lad, a good lad. I wonder--do you think if I
wrote a line, mentioning, by the way, that Rosamund's here, do you
think he'd come?"

The speaker accompanied his words with an intimate glance. Will averted
his eyes, and gazed for a moment at the sunny landscape.

"How long will Miss Elvan stay?" he asked.

"Oh, as long as she likes. We are very glad to have her."

Their looks met for an instant.

"A pity, a pity!" said Ralph, shaking his head and smiling. "Don't
_you_ think so?"

"Why, yes. I've always thought so."

Will knew that this was not strictly the truth. But in this moment he
refused to see anything but the dimly suggested possibility that Franks
might meet again with Rosamund Elvan, and again succumb to her charm.

"Heaven forbid!" resumed Ralph, "that one should interfere where lives
are at stake! Nothing of that, nothing of that. You are as little
disposed for it as I am. But simply to acquaint him with the fact--?"

"I see no harm. If I met him--?"

"Ah! To be sure. It would be natural to say--"

"I owe him a visit," remarked Will.

They talked of other things. All at once Warburton had become aware
that he was hungry; he had not broken his fast to-day. Happily, the
clock on the mantelpiece pointed towards noon. And at this moment there
sounded voices within the house, followed by a tap at the study door
which opened, admitting Mrs. Pomfret. The lady advanced with hospitable
greeting; homely of look and speech, she had caught her husband's
smile, and something of his manner--testimony to the happiness of a
long wedded life. Behind her came the figure of youth and grace which
Warburton's eyes expected; very little changed since he last saw it, in
the Valley of Trient, Warburton was conscious of an impression that the
young lady saw him again with pleasure. In a minute or two, Mrs.
Pomfret and her niece had left the room, but Warburton still saw those
pure, pale features, the emotional eyes and lips, the slight droop of
the head to one side. Far indeed--so he said within himself--from his
ideal; but, he easily understood, strong in seductiveness for such a
man as Franks, whom the old passion had evidently left lukewarm in his
thought of other women.

The bell gave a welcome summons to lunch--or dinner,