The Light of Scarthey: A Romance

  CHAPTER XII

  A RECORD AND A PRESENTMENT.

  The gallery of family portraits at Pulwick is one of the mostremarkable features of that ancient house.

  It was a custom firmly established at the Priory--ever since the firstheralds' visitation in Lancashire, when some mooted point of claims tocertain quarterings had been cleared in an unexpected way by thetestimony of a well-authenticated ancestral portrait--for eachsuccessive representative to add to the collection. One of the firstcares of every Landale, therefore, on succeeding to the title was tobe painted, with his proper armorial and otherwise distinguishinghonours jealously delineated, and thus hung in the place of honourover the high mantelshelf of the gallery--displacing on the occasionhis own immediate and revered predecessor.

  The chain was consequently unbroken from the Elizabethan descendantsof the first acquirers of ecclesiastical property at Pulwick, down tothe present Light-keeper of Scarthey.

  But whilst the late Sir Thomas appeared in all the majesty ofdeputy-lieutenant, colonel of Militia, magistrate, and sundry otherhonourable offices, in his due place on the right of the presentbaronet, the latter figured in a character so strange and soincongruous that it seemed as if one day the dignified array ofLandales--old, young, middle-aged, but fine gentlemen, all ofthem--must turn their backs upon their degenerate kinsman.

  Over the chimney-piece, in the huge carved-oak frame (now already twocenturies old), a common sailor, in the striped loose trousers, theblue jacket with red piping of a man-of-war's man, with pigtail andcoarse open shirt--stood boldly forth as the representative of thepresent owner of Pulwick.

  Proud of their long line of progenitors, it was a not unusual thingfor the Landales to entertain their guests at breakfast in a certainsunny bow-window in the portrait gallery rather than in the breakfastparlour proper, which in winter, unmistakably harboured more damp thanwas pleasant.

  It was, therefore, with no surprise that Miss Landale received anearly order from her brother to have a fire lighted in the apartmentsacred to the family honours, and the matutinal repast served there indue course.

  Whether Mr. Landale was actuated by a regard for the rheumatism of hisworthy relative, or merely a natural family pride, or by some otherand less simple motive, he saw no necessity for informing his docilehousewife on the matter.

  As Sophia was accustomed to no such condescension on his part even incircumstances more extraordinary, she merely bundled out of bedunquestioningly in the darkness and cold of the morning to see hisorders executed in the proper manner; which, indeed, to her credit wasso successfully accomplished that Tanty and her charges, when theymade their entry upon the scene, could not fail to be impressed withthe comfortable aspect of the majestic old room.

  Mr. Landale examined his two young uninvited guests with new keennessin the morning light. Molly was demure enough, though there was alurking gleam in her dark eye which suggested rather armed truce thanaccepted peace. As for Madeleine, though to be serene was an actualnecessity of her delicate nature, there was more than resignation inthe blushing radiance of her look and smile.

  "Portraits of their mother," said Rupert, bringing his critical surveyto a close, and stepping forward with a nice action of the legs topresent his arm to his aunt. "Portraits of their mother both ofthem--I trust to that miniature which used to grace our collection inthe drawing-room rather than to the treacherous memory of a school-boyfor the impression--but portraits by different masters and indifferent moods."

  There was something patronising in the tone from so young a man, whichMolly resented on the spot.

  "Oh, we should be as like as two peas, only that we are as differentas day and night, as Tanty says," she retorted, tossing her white chinat her host, while Miss O'Donoghue laughed aloud at her favourite'ssauciness.

  "And after all," said Rupert, as he bestowed his venerable relative onher chair, with an ineffable air of politeness, contradicted, thoughonly for an instant, by the look which he shot at Molly from the lighthazel eyes, "Tanty is not so far wrong--the only difference betweennight and day is the difference between the _brunette_ and the_blonde_," with a little bow to each of the sisters, "an Irish bull,if one comes to analyse it, is but the expression of the too rapidworking of quick wits."

  "Faith, nephew," said Tanty, sitting down in high good humour to theinnumerable good things in which her Epicurean old soul delighted,"that is about as true a thing as ever you said. Our Irish tongues areapt to get behind a thing before it is there, and they call thatmaking a bull."

  Rupert's sense of humour was as keen as most of his other faculties,and at the unconscious humour of this sally his laugh rang outfrankly, while Molly and Madeleine giggled in their plates, and MissO'Donoghue chuckled quietly to herself in the intervals of eating anddrinking, content to have been witty, without troubling to discoverhow.

  Sophia alone remained unmoved by mirth; indeed, as she raised herdrooping head, amazed at the clamour, an unwary tear trickled down herlong nose into her tea. She was given to revelling in anniversaries ofdead and gone joys or sorrows; the one as melancholy to her to lookback upon as the other; and upon this November day, now very manyyears ago, had the ardent, consumptive rector first hinted at hislove.

  "And now," said Miss O'Donoghue, who, having disposed of the mostserious part of the breakfast, pushed away her plate with one handwhile she stirred her second cup of well-creamed tea lazily with theother, "Now, Rupert, will you tell me the arrangements you propose tomake to enable me to see your good brother?"

  Rupert had anticipated being attacked upon this subject, and had fullyprepared himself to defend the peculiar position it was his interestto maintain. To encourage a meeting between his brother and the oldlady (to whom the present position of affairs was a grievous offence)did not, certainly, enter into his plan of action; but Tanty had putthe question in an unexpected and slightly awkward shape, and for asecond or two he hesitated before replying.

  "I fear," said he then, gliding into the subject with his usual easyfluency, "that you will be disappointed if you have been reckoningupon an interview with Adrian, my dear aunt. The hermit will not bedrawn from his shell on any pretext."

  "What," cried Tanty, while her withered cheek flushed, "do you mean totell me that my nephew, Sir Adrian Landale, will decline to come a fewhundred yards to see his old aunt--his mother's own sister--who hascome three hundred miles, at seventy years of age, to see him in hisown house--_in his own house_?" repeated the irate old lady, rattlingthe spoon with much emphasis against her cup. "If you _mean_ this,Rupert, it is an insult to me which I shall never forget--_never_."

  She rose from her seat as she concluded, shaking with the tremulousanger of age.

  "For God's sake, Tanty," cried Rupert, throwing into his voice all thegenerous warmth he was capable of simulating, "do not hold meresponsible for Adrian in this matter. His strange vagaries are not ofmy suggesting, heaven knows."

  "Well, nephew," said Miss O'Donoghue, loftily, "if you will kindlysend the letter I am about to write to your brother, by a safemessenger, immediately, I shall believe that it is _your_ wish totreat me with proper respect, whatever may be Adrian's subsequentbehaviour."

  Mr. Landale's countenance assumed an expression of very genuinedistress; this was just the one proof of dutiful attachment that hewas loth to bestow upon his cherished aunt.

  "I see how it is," he exclaimed earnestly, coming up to the old lady,and laying his hand gently upon her arm, "you entirely misunderstandthe situation. I am not a free agent in this matter. I cannot do whatyou ask; I am bound by pledge. Adrian is, undoubtedly, morethan--peculiar on certain points, and, really, I dare not, if I would,thwart him."

  "Oh!" cried Tanty, shooting off the ejaculation as from a pop-gun.Then, shaking herself free of Rupert's touch, she sat down abruptly inher chair again, and began fanning herself with her handkerchief. Noteven in her interchange of amenities with Mrs. Hambledon, had Mollyseen her display so much indignation.

  "You want me to
believe he is mad, I suppose?" she snapped, at last.

  "Dear me! No, no, no!" responded the other, in his airy way. "I didnot mean to go so far as that; but--well, there are very painfulmatters, and hitherto I have avoided all discussion upon them, evenwith Sophia. My affection for Adrian----"

  "Fiddlesticks!" interrupted Tanty. "You meant something, I suppose;either the man's mad, or he is not. And I, for one, don't believe aword of it. The worst sign about him, that I can see, is the blindconfidence the poor fellow seems to put in you."

  Here Molly, who had been listening to the discussion "with all herears"--anything connected with the mysterious personality of theabsent head of the house was beginning to have a special fascinationfor her--gave an irrepressible little note of laughter.

  Rupert looked up at her quickly, and their eyes met.

  "Hold your tongue, Miss," cried Miss O'Donoghue, sharply; aware thatshe had gone too far in her last remark, and glad to relieve heroppression in another direction, "how dare you laugh? Sophia, this isa terrible thing your brother wants me to believe--may I ask what_your_ opinion is? Though I'll not deny I don't think that will beworth much."

  Sophia glanced helplessly at Rupert, but he was far too carefullypossessed of himself to affect to perceive her embarrassment.

  "Come, come," cried Miss O'Donoghue, whose eyes nothing escaped, "youneed not look at Rupert, you can answer for yourself, I suppose--youare not absolutely a drivelling idiot--_all_ the Landales are notripening for lunatic asylums--collect your wits, Sophia, I know youhave not got any, but you have _enough_ to be able to give a plainanswer to a plain question, I suppose. Do you think your brother mad,child?"

  "God forbid," murmured Sophia, at the very extremity of those wits ofwhich Miss O'Donoghue had so poor an opinion. "Oh, no, dear aunt, not_mad_, of course, not in the least _mad_."

  Then, gathering from a restless movement of Rupert's that she was notupon the right tack she faltered, floundered wildly, and finally drewforth the inevitable pocket-handkerchief, to add feelingly ifirrelevantly from its folds, "And indeed if I thought such a calamityhad really fallen upon us--and of course there _are_ symptoms, nodoubt there are symptoms...."

  "What are his symptoms--has he tried to murder any of you, hey?"

  "Oh, my dear aunt! No, indeed, dear Adrian is gentleness itself."

  "Does he bite? Does he gibber? Oh, away with you, Sophia! I am sure Icannot wonder at the poor fellow wanting to live on a rock, betweenyou and Rupert. I am sure the periwinkles and the gulls must bepleasant company compared to you. That alone would show, I shouldthink, that he knows right well what he is about. Mad indeed! Therenever was any madness among the O'Donoghues except your poor uncleMichael, who got a box on the ear from a windmill--and _he_ wasn't anO'Donoghue at all! You will be kind enough, nephew, to have deliveredto Sir Adrian, no later than to-day, the letter which I shall thismoment indite to him."

  "Perhaps," said Rupert, "if you will only favour me with yourattention for a few minutes first, aunt, and allow me to narrate toyou the circumstances of my brother's return here, and of hissubsequent self-exile, you will see fit to change your opinion, bothas regards him and myself."

  A self-controlled nature will in the long run, rightly or wrongly,always assume the ascendency over an excitable one. The moderatenessof Rupert's words, the coolness of his manner, here brought Tantyrapidly down from her pinnacle of passion.

  Certainly, she said, she was not only ready, but anxious to hear allthat Rupert could have to say for himself; and, smoothing down herblack satin apron with a shaking hand, the old lady prepared to listenwith as much judicial dignity as her flustered state allowed her toassume. Rupert drew his chair opposite to hers and leant his elbow onthe table, and fixed his bright, hard eyes upon her.

  "You remember, of course," he began after a moment's pause, "how atthe time of my poor father's death, Adrian was reported to have losthis life in the Vendee war--though without authoritativeconfirmation--at the same time as the fair and unhappy Countesse deSavenaye, to whose fortune he had so chivalrously devoted himself."

  Tanty bowed her head in solemn assent; but Molly, watching with themost acute attention, felt her face blaze at the indefinable shade ofmockery she thought to catch upon the speaker's curling lip.

  "It was," continued he, "the constant strain, the long months ofwatching in vain for tidings, that told upon my father, rather thanthe actual grief of loss. When he died, the responsibilities of theheadship of the house devolved naturally upon me, the only malerepresentative left, seemingly, to undertake them. The months went by;to the most sanguine the belief in Adrian's death became inevitable.Our hopes died slowly, but they died at last; we mourned for him,"here Rupert cast down his eyes till the thick black lashes which wereone of his beauties swept his cheek; his tone was perfect in itssimple gravity. "At length, urged thereto by all the family, if Iremember rightly by yourself as well, dear aunt, I assumed the titleas well as the position which seemed mine by right. I was very youngat the time, but I do not think that either then, or during the tenyears that followed, I unworthily filled my brother's place."

  There was a proud ring of sincerity in the last words, and the oldlady knew that they were true; that during the years of his absolutepower as well as of his present more restricted mastership, Rupert'smanagement of the estate was unimpeachable.

  "Certainly not, my dear Rupert," she said in softer tones than she hadhitherto used to him, "no one would dream of suggesting such athing--pray go on."

  "And so," pursued the nephew, with a short laugh, relapsing into thatlight tone of banter which was his most natural mode of expression;"when, one fine day, a hired coach clattered up Sir Rupert Landale'savenue and deposited upon his porch a tattered mariner who announcedhimself, in melancholy tones that would have befitted the ghost nodoubt many took him for, as the rightful Sir Adrian, erroneouslysupposed defunct, I confess that it required a little persuasion tomake me recognise my long-lost brother--and yet there could be nodoubt of it. The missing heir had come to his own again; the dead hadcome back to life. Well, we killed the fatted calf, and all the restof it--but I need not inflict upon you the narrative of ourrejoicing."

  "Faith, no," said Tanty, drily, "I can see it with half an eye."

  "You know, too, I believe, the series of extraordinary adventures, ormisadventures, which had kept him roaming on the high seas while we athome set up tablets to his memory and 'wore our blacks' as people herecall it, and cultivated a chastened resignation. There was a good dealof correspondence going on at the time between Pulwick and Bunratty,if I remember aright, and you heard all about Adrian's divers attemptsto land in England, about his fight with the King's men, his crack onthe head and final impressment. At least you heard as much as we couldgather ourselves. Adrian is not what one would call a garrulous personat the best of times. It was really with the greatest difficulty thatwe managed to extract enough out of him to piece together a coherenttale."

  "Well, well," quoth Tanty, with impatience, "you are glib enough fortwo anyhow, my dear! All this does not tell me how Adrian came to liveon a lighthouse, and why you put him down as a lunatic."

  "Not as a lunatic," corrected Rupert, gently, "merely as slightlyeccentric on certain points. Though, indeed, if you had seen himduring those first months after his return, I think even you with youroptimistic spirit would have feared, as we did, that he was fallinginto melancholia. Thank heaven he is better now. But, dear me, what wewent through! I declare I expected every morning to be informed thatSir Adrian's corpse had been found hanging from his bedpost ordiscovered in a jelly at the bottom of the bluffs. And, indeed, whenat length he disappeared for three days, after he had been lastobserved mooning along the coast, there was a terrible panic lest heshould have sought a congenial and soothing end in the embraces ofthe quicksands.... It turned out, however, that he had merely strolledover to Scarthey--where, as you know, my father established a beaconand installed a keeper to warn boats off our shoals--and, finding theplace to his
liking, had remained there, regardless of our feelings."

  "Tut, tut!" said Tanty; but whether in reproof of Rupert's flippantlanguage or of her elder nephew's erratic behaviour, it would havebeen difficult to determine.

  "Of course," went on Rupert, smoothly, "I had resolved, after a decentperiod, to remove my lares and penates from a house where I was nolonger master and to establish myself, with my small patrimony (Ibelieve I ought to call it _matrimony_, as we younger children benefitby our O'Donoghue mother) in an independent establishment. But when Ifirst broached the subject, Adrian was so vastly distressed, expressedhimself so well satisfied with my management of the estate and beggedme so earnestly to consider Pulwick as my home, vowing that he himselfwould never marry, and that all he looked forward to in life was tosee me wedded and with future heirs to the name springing around me,that it would have been actual unkindness to resist. Moreover, as youcan imagine, Adrian is not exactly a man of business, and hisspasmodic interferences in the control of the property being alreadythen of a very injudicious nature, I confess that, having nursed itmyself for eleven years with some success, I dreaded to think what itwould become under his auspices. And so I agreed to remain. But theposition increased in difficulty. Adrian's moroseness seemed to growupon him; he showed an exaggerated horror of company; either flyingfrom visitors as from the pest, and shutting himself up in his ownapartments, or (on the few disastrous occasions when my persuasionsinduced him to show himself to some old family friends) entertainingthem with such unusual sentiments concerning social laws, themagistracy, the government, his Majesty the King himself, that themost extraordinary reports about him soon spread over the wholecounty. This was about the time--as you may remember--of my ownmarriage."

  Here an alteration crept into Mr. Landale's voice, and Molly lookedat him curiously, while Miss Sophia gave vent to an audible sniff.

  "To be sure," said Tanty, hastily. Comfortably egotistic old ladieshave an instinctive dislike to painful topics. And that Rupert'ssorrow for his young wife had been, if self-centred and reserved, ofan intense and prolonged nature was known to all the family.

  The widower himself had no intention of dilating upon it. His wife'sname he never mentioned, and no one could guess, heavily as the blowwas known to have fallen upon him, the seething bitterness that herloss had left in his soul, nor imagine how different a man he mighthave been if that one strong affection of his life had been spared tosoften it.

  "Adrian fled from the wedding festivities, as you may remember, foryou were our honoured guest at the time, and greatly displeased at hisabsence," he resumed, after a few seconds of darkling reflection."None of us knew where he had flown to, for he did not evidentlyconsider his owl's nest sufficiently remote; but we had his fraternalblessing to sustain us. And after that he continued to make periodicaldisappearances to his retreat, stopping away each time longer andlonger. One fine day he sent workmen to the island with directions torepair certain rooms in the keep, and he began to transfer theretofurniture, his books and his organ. A dilapidated little Frenchprisoner next appeared on the scene (whom my brother had extractedfrom the Tower of Liverpool, which was then crammed with such gentry),and finally we were informed that, with this worthy companion, SirAdrian Landale was determined to take up his abode altogether atScarthey, undertaking the duties of the recently defunct light-keeper.So off he went, and there he is still. He has extracted from us asolemn promise that his privacy is to be absolutely respected, andthat no communications, or, above all, visits are to be made to him.Occasionally, when we least expect it, he descends upon us from histower, upsets all my accounts, makes the most absurd concessions tothe tenants, rides round the estate with his eyes on the ground anddisappears again. _Et voila_, my dear aunt, how we stand."

  "Well, nephew," said Miss O'Donoghue, "I am much obliged to you, I amsure, for putting me _au courant_ of the family affairs. It is allvery sad--very sad and very deplorable; but----"

  But Mr. Landale was quite aware that Tanty was not yet convinced tothe desired extent. He therefore here interrupted her to play his lastcard--that ace he had up his sleeve, in careful preparation for thistrial of skill with his keen-witted relative, and to the suitableproduction of which he had been all along leading.

  Rising from his chair with slow, deliberate movement, he proceeded, asif following his own train of thought, without noticing that MissO'Donoghue was intent on speech herself:

  "You have not seen him, I believe, since he was quite a lad. You wouldhave some difficulty in recognising him, though he bears, like therest of us, what you call the unmistakable Landale stamp. His portraitis here, by the way--duly installed in its correct position. That,"with a laugh, "was one of his freaks. It was his duty to keep up thefamily traditions, he said--and there you will approve of him, nodoubt; but hardly, perhaps, of the manner in which he has had thatlaudable intention carried out. My own portrait was, of course,deposed (like the original)," added Mr. Landale, with something of asneer; "and now hangs meekly in some bedroom or other--in that, if Imistake not, at present hallowed by my fair cousins' presence. Well,it is good for the soul of man to be humbled, as we are taught tobelieve from our earliest years!"

  Tanty was fumbling for her eye-glasses. She was glad to hear thatAdrian had remembered some of his obligations (she observed,sententiously, as she hauled herself stiffly out of her chair toapproach the chimney-piece); it was certainly a sign that he was moremindful of his duties as head of the house than one would expect froma person hardly responsible, such as Rupert had represented him to be,and ...

  Here, the glasses being adjusted and focussed upon the portrait, MissO'Donoghue halted abruptly with a dropping jaw.

  "There is a curious inscription underneath the escutcheon," said Mr.Landale composedly, "which latter, by the way, you may notice is theonly one in the line which has no room for an impaled coat (Adrian'sway of indicating not only that he is single, but means to remainsuch); Adrian composed it himself and indeed attached a markedimportance to it. Let me read it for you, dear Tanty, the picturehangs a little high and those curveting letters are hard to decipher.It runs thus:

  _Sir Adrian William Hugh Landale, Lord of Pulwick and Scarthey in theCounty Palatine of Lancaster, eighth Baronet, born March 12th, 1775.Succeeded to the title and estate on the 10th February 1799, whilstabroad. Iniquitously pressed into the King's service on the day of hisreturn home, January 2nd, 1801. Twice flogged for allegedinsubordination, and only released at last by the help of a friendafter five years of slavery. Died_ [Here a space for the date.] It isa record with a vengeance, is it not? Notice my brother'sdetermination to die unmarried and to retire, once for all, from allor any of the possible honours connected with his position!"

  They had all clustered in front of the picture; even Madeleine rousedfrom her sweet day-dreams to some show of curiosity; Miss Landale'sbosom, heaving with such sighs as to make the tombstone rise and falllike a ship upon a stormy sea; Molly with an eagerness she did notattempt to hide; and Miss O'Donoghue still speechless with horror andindignation.

  Mr. Landale had gauged his aunt's temperament correctly enough. To onewhose ruling passion was pride of family, this mockery of aconsecrated family custom, this heirloom destined to carry down arecord of degradation into future generations, was an insult to thename only to be explained to her first indignation by deliberatemalice--or insanity.

  And from the breezy background of blue sky and sea, contrasting asstrangely with the dark solemnity of the other portraits as did thefigure itself in its incongruous sailor dress, the face of the eighthbaronet looked down in melancholy gravity upon the group gathered injudgment upon him.

  "Disgraceful! Positively disgraceful!" at length cried the lastrepresentative of the O'Donoghues of Bunratty, in scandalised tones."My dear Rupert, you should have a curtain put up, that thisexhibition of folly--of madness, I hardly know what to call it--be notexposed to every casual visitor. Dear me, dear me, that I should liveto see any of my kin deliberately throw discredit on his
family, ifindeed the poor fellow is responsible! Rupert, my good soul, can youascribe any reason for this terrible state of affairs ... that blow onthe head?"

  "In part perhaps," said Mr. Landale. "And yet there have been othercauses at work. If I could have a private word in your ear," glancingmeaningly over his shoulder at the two young girls who were bothlistening, though with very different expressions of interest andfavour, "I could give you my opinion more fully."

  "Go away now, my dear creatures," hereupon said Miss O'Donoghue,promptly addressing her nieces. "It is a fine morning, and you willlose your roses if you don't get the air. I don't care if it has begunto rain, miss! Go and have a game of battledore and shuttlecock then.Young people _must_ have exercise. Well, my dear Rupert, well!"--whenMolly, with a pettish "battledore and shuttlecock indeed!" had takenher sister by the arm and left the room.

  "Well, my dear aunt, the fact is, I believe my unhappy brother hasnever recovered from--from his passion for Cecile de Savenaye, thatearly love affair, so suddenly and tragically terminated--well, itseems to have turned his brain!"

  "Pooh, pooh! why that was twenty years ago. Don't tell me it is in aman to be so constant."

  "In no _sane_ man perhaps; but then, you know, Tanty, that is just thepoint.... Remember the circumstances. He loved her madly; he followedher, lived near her for months and she was drowned before his eyes, Ibelieve. I never heard, of course, any details of that strange periodof his life, but we can imagine." This was a difficult, vague, subjectto deal with, and Mr. Landale wisely passed on. "Moreover, hisbehaviour when in this house on his return at first has left me nodoubt. I watched him closely. He was for ever haunting those roomswhich she had inhabited. When he found her miniature in thedrawing-room he went first as white as death, then he took it in hishand and stood gazing at it (I am not exaggerating) for a whole hourwithout moving; and, finally, he carried it off, and I know he used totalk to it in his room. And now, even if I had not given my poorbrother my word of honour never to disturb his chosen solitude, Ishould have felt it a heavy responsibility to promote a meeting whichwould inevitably bring back past memories in a troublous manner uponhim. In fact, were he to come across the children of his deadlove--above all Molly, who must be startlingly like her mother--whatmight the result be? I hardly like to contemplate it. The human brainis a very delicately balanced organ, my dear aunt, and once it getsever so slightly out of order one cannot be too careful to avoidrisk."

  He finished his say with an expressive gesture of the hand. MissO'Donoghue remained for a moment plunged in reflection, during whichthe cloud upon her countenance gradually lifted.

  "It is a strange thing," she said at last, "but constancy seems to runin the family. There is no denying that. Here is Sophia, a ridiculousspectacle--and you yourself, my dear Rupert.... And now poor Adrian,too, and his case of mere calf-love, as one would have thought."

  "A calf may grow into a fine bull, you know," returned Mr. Landale,who had winced at his aunt's allusion to himself and now spoke in themost unemotional tone he could assume, "especially if it is wellfostered in its youth."

  "And I suppose," said Miss O'Donoghue, with a faint smile, "you thinkI ought to know all about bulls." She again put up her glasses tosurvey the portrait with critical deliberation; after which,recommending him once more strenuously to have a curtain erected, sheobserved, that it would break her heart to look at it one momentlonger and requested to be conducted from the room.

  Mr. Landale could not draw any positive conclusion from his aunt'smanner of receiving his confidence, nor determine whether she hadaltogether grasped the whole meaning of what he had intendeddelicately to convey to her concerning his brother's past as well aspresent position; but he had said as much as prudence counselled.