Ferrier
showing the way.
When he returned to the hall, Sir James Chide, its sole occupant, was
walking up and down.
"Who was that young lady?" said Sir James, turning abruptly.
"Isn't she charming? Her name is Mallory--and she has just settled at
Beechcote, near here. That small fair lady was her companion. Oliver
tells me she is an orphan--well off--with no kith or kin. She has just
come to England, it seems, for the first time. Her father brought her up
abroad away from everybody. She will have a success! But of all the
little Jingoes!"
Mr. Ferrier's face expressed an amused recollection of some of Diana's
speeches.
"Mallory?" said Sir James, under his breath--"_Mallory?_" He walked to
the window, and stood looking out, his hands in his pockets.
Mr. Ferrier went up-stairs to write letters. In a few minutes the man at
the window came slowly back toward the fire, staring at the ground.
"The look in the eyes!" he said to himself--"the mouth!--the voice!"
He stood by the vast and pompous fireplace--hanging over the blaze--the
prey of some profound agitation, some flooding onset of memory. Servants
passed and repassed through the hall; sounds loud and merry came from
the drawing-room.
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