up in India, and then he took them
to the picture gallery which ran round the big square hall. A lantern
dome admitted a cold light, but a few sunrays struck through a window
looking to the southwest and fell in long bright bars on polished floor
and somber paneling. On entering the gallery, Challoner took out a
case of miniatures and, placing it on a small table, brought a chair
for Mrs. Keith.

"You know the pictures, but this collection generally interests you,
and I have added a few examples of a good French period since you were
last here."

Mrs. Keith sat down and picked up a miniature.

"Millicent would enjoy that picture of the hills at Arrowdale," she
said. "It's near her old home in the North."

Challoner and the girl moved away down the gallery, and he showed her a
large painting of gray hills and a sullen tarn, half revealed between
folds of rolling vapor. Millicent was stirred to keen appreciation.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "And so full of life! One can see
the mist drive by and the ripples break upon the stones. Perhaps it's
because I know the tarn that I like the picture so much; but it makes
one realize the rugged grandeur and the melancholy charm of the place.
That is genius! Who is the painter?"

"My son," said the Colonel quietly.

Millicent saw that he was troubled, though she could not imagine the
reason.

"I hardly know Captain Challoner, whom I met only once; but it is
obvious that he has talent. You would rather have him a soldier?"

"Very much rather."

"But he is one! I understand that he has distinguished himself. After
all, it is perhaps a mistake to think of genius as limited to one
ability--music or painting, for example. Real genius, the power of
understanding, is more comprehensive; the man who has it ought to be
successful at whatever he undertakes."

"I'm dubious," said Challoner. "It strikes me as a rather daring
theory."

"It isn't mine," Millicent explained quickly. "It's a favorite theme
of a philosopher I'm fond of, and he insists upon it when he speaks
about great men. Perhaps I'm talking too freely, but I feel that
Captain Challoner's being able to paint well shouldn't prevent his
making a good officer."

"Great men are scarce. I'm content that my son has so far done his
duty quietly and well; all I could wish for is that if any exceptional
call should be made on him he should rise to the occasion. That is the
supreme test; men from whom