am?" said Mr. Horrock, aside.

"Ask him yourself," returned Mr. Bambridge. "He said he'd just turned
in from the road."

Mr. Horrock eyed the stranger, who was leaning back against his stick
with one hand, using his toothpick with the other, and looking about
him with a certain restlessness apparently under the silence imposed on
him by circumstances.

At length the "Supper at Emmaus" was brought forward, to Wills immense
relief, for he was getting so tired of the proceedings that he had
drawn back a little and leaned his shoulder against the wall just
behind the auctioneer. He now came forward again, and his eye caught
the conspicuous stranger, who, rather to his surprise, was staring at
him markedly. But Will was immediately appealed to by Mr. Trumbull.

"Yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes; this interests you as a connoiss_ure_, I
think. It is some pleasure," the auctioneer went on with a rising
fervor, "to have a picture like this to show to a company of ladies and
gentlemen--a picture worth any sum to an individual whose means were on
a level with his judgment. It is a painting of the Italian school--by
the celebrated Guydo, the greatest painter in the world, the chief of
the Old Masters, as they are called--I take it, because they were up
to a thing or two beyond most of us--in possession of secrets now lost
to the bulk of mankind. Let me tell you, gentlemen, I have seen a
great many pictures by the Old Masters, and they are not all up to this
mark--some of them are darker than you might like and not family
subjects. But here is a Guydo--the frame alone is worth pounds--which
any lady might be proud to hang up--a suitable thing for what we call a
refectory in a charitable institution, if any gentleman of the
Corporation wished to show his munifi_cence_. Turn it a little, sir?
yes. Joseph, turn it a little towards Mr. Ladislaw--Mr. Ladislaw,
having been abroad, understands the merit of these things, you observe."

All eyes were for a moment turned towards Will, who said, coolly, "Five
pounds." The auctioneer burst out in deep remonstrance.

"Ah! Mr. Ladislaw! the frame alone is worth that. Ladies and
gentlemen, for the credit of the town! Suppose it should be discovered
hereafter that a gem of art has been amongst us in this town, and
nobody in Middlemarch awake to it. Five guineas--five seven-six--five
ten. Still, ladies, still! It is a gem, and 'Full many a gem,' as the
poet says, has been allowed to go a