"one of the most talked of
men in England dined here. I suppose you would call Ronald Mackenzie an
interesting man, eh? Why, what's the matter? Aren't you well?"

"Oh yes, father dear. Please go on."

The Squire went on. Fortunately he had not noticed the sudden blush, but
only the paleness that had followed it. Supposing he had seen, and her
secret had been dragged out of her! She gave him no more material on
which to exercise his gift of oratory, but sat silent and frightened
while he dealt further with the subject in hand and showed her that she
was fortunate in living amongst the most interesting set of people in
England. Her uncle Tom knew as much as anybody about butterflies, her
Aunt Grace played the piano remarkably well for an amateur, Sir Ralph
Perry, who lived at Warnton Court, four miles away, had written a book
on fly-fishing, the Rector of Bathgate had published a volume of
sermons, the Vicar of Blagden rubbed brasses, Mrs. Kingston of Axtol was
the daughter of a Cambridge professor, and the Squire supposed he was
not entirely destitute of intelligence himself. At any rate, he had
corresponded with a good many learned gentlemen in his time, and they
seemed anxious enough to come to Kencote, and didn't treat him exactly
as if he were a fool when they did come.

"The upshot of it all is, Cicely," concluded the Squire, "that you want
a great many things that you can't have and are not going to have, and
the sooner you see that and settle down sensibly to do your duty the
better."

"Yes, father," said Cicely, longing to get away.

The Squire bethought himself. He had nothing more to say, although as he
was considering what to do next he said over again a few of the more
salient things that he had said before. He hoped he had made an
impression, but he would have liked to end up on a note rather less tame
than this. With Cicely so meek and quiet, however, and his indignation
against her, already weakened by having been spread over a fortnight,
having now entirely evaporated by being expressed, as his indignation
generally did evaporate, he had arrived somehow at a loose end. He
looked at his daughter for the first time with some affection, and
noticed that she was pale, and, he thought, thinner.

"Come here and give me a kiss," he said, and she went to him and put her
head on his big shoulder. "Now you're going to be a good girl and not
give us any more trouble, aren't you?" he said, patting her on the
s