The collection"--he nodded towards the
library--"is a good one, is it not?"

"A very good one," assented Celia; "it seems to me a magnificent
library. But, then, I am not qualified to express an opinion. I have not
much experience; I mean, of private libraries; I am used to the British
Museum one only."

"My great grandfather was an enthusiastic collector," said the Marquess;
"but I fear I have not inherited his taste, and have neglected the
library."

In an absent-minded kind of way, he passed into the superb room, and
looked round, reflectively.

"You are making a catalogue, of course? It must be a very heavy task,
especially for one so young."

Celia began to tremble; and at that moment she realized fully how
precious the work and position were to her.

"I am not so very young, my lord," she said, with a little, nervous
smile. "I am twenty-two."

He looked at her with a suspicion of a smile on his lips.

"Youth has much in its favour," he said. "It is rich in energy and in
strength. All the same, one must not abuse either. You are working late
to-night; that is not wise."

"I was out, took a holiday, this afternoon, and was making up for it;
but I enjoy working at night; it is so quiet--but it is always quiet
here, in this great place."

"You have no father and mother?" he said, after a pause, during which he
was trying to remember what Mr. Clendon had told him of her.

"No, my lord," said Celia. "I have no one belonging to me."

"That is sad," he said, more to himself than to her. "Mrs. Dexter looks
after you, I suppose? I must tell her to see that you do not work too
hard."

"She is more than kind to me," said Celia, warmly.

There was another pause; she did not know whether to remain or stay;
but, as he had taken up the draft catalogue, she paused, standing by the
table and waiting to see if he would speak to her again.

"Do you not feel lonely here?" he asked.

"Oh, no," she replied, promptly. "Not the very least. There is Mrs.
Dexter, and the books and----" She laid her hand on the head of Roddy,
who strolled in at the moment, and, after wagging his tail in response
to her caress, moved slowly to the Marquess and thrust a wet, cold nose
against the long, thin hand. "Besides, I made an acquaintance this
afternoon; a lady, a dear old lady, Lady Gridborough, at Lensmore
Grange, you know."

"Yes, I know," he remarked, with a nod. "That is well. She is a good
soul. Warm-hearted, but eccentric.