will, but by virtue of a
difference of temperament which could not but make itself felt. Yet once
as Rose passed her Robert saw her stretch out her hand and touch her
sister caressingly, with a bright upward look and smile, as though
she would say, 'Is all well? have you had a good time this afternoon,
Roeschen?' Clearly, the strong contemplative nature was not strong
enough to dispense with any of the little wants and cravings of human
affection. Compared to the main impression she was making on him, her
suppliant attitude at her mother's feet and her caress of her sister
were like flowers breaking through the stern March soil and changing the
whole spirit of the fields.

Presently he said something of Oxford, and mentioned, Merton. Instantly
Mrs. Leyburn fell upon him. Had he ever seen Mr. S--, who had been a
Fellow there, and Rose's godfather?

'I don't acknowledge him,' said Rose, pouting. 'Other people's
godfathers give them mugs and corals. Mine never gave me anything but a
Concordance.'

Robert laughed, and proved to their satisfaction that Mr. S-- had been
extinct before his day. But could they ask him any other questions?
'Mrs. Leyburn became quite animated, and, diving into her memory,
produced a number of fragmentary reminiscences of her husband's Queen's
friends, asking him information about each and all of them. The young
man disentangled all her questions, racked his brains to answer, and
showed all through a quick friendliness, a charming deference as of
youth to age, which confirmed the liking of the whole party for him.
Then the mention of an associate of Richard Leyburn's youth, who had
been one of the Tractarian leaders, led him into talk of Oxford changes
and the influences of the present. He drew for them the famous High
Church preacher of the moment, described the great spectacle of his
Bampton Lectures, by which Oxford had been recently thrilled, and gave a
dramatic account of a sermon on evolution preached by the hermit-veteran
Pusey, as though by another Elias returning to the world to deliver a
last warning message to men. Catherine listened absorbed, her deep
eyes fixed upon him. And though all he said was pitched in a vivacious
narrative key and addressed as much to the others as to her, inwardly it
seemed to him that his one object all through was to touch and keep her
attention.

Then, in answer to inquiries about himself, he fell to describing St.
Anselm's with enthusiasm,--its growth