the library fire, presumably enjoying
Othello, but really watching her brother's
secretary, who was busily transcribing from
a big black-letter volume before him some
of the glorious deeds of her remote
ancestry. Raising his eyes after one of his
pen-dips, Joyce met Lady Caroline's glance
fixed straight upon him, and said:

"Thinking of lago's subtlety, Lady
Caroline, or Desdemona's innate weakness?
The former, I should say, judging from
your expression."

"My expression must be very poor,
then, Mr. Joyce, or your powers of reading
expression must be extremely limited. I
was thinking of something totally different."

"May one ask of what?" He had had
a long day at the chronicles of the West
family, and a little relief was absolutely
necessary.

"Oh dear yes, my thoughts were
certainly not to be marked 'confidential' or
even 'private.' I was thinking about our
going back to town."

"Oh indeed! Is that imminent?"

"I should say certainly. Parliament meets
within a fortnight, and West, I mean Lord
Hetherington, never misses that. Lady
Hetherington won't let him go alone, and
once in Beaufort-square, I suppose they'll
stop on."

"I suppose so. This house will seem
wonderfully different when you have all
left it."

"Naturally. Deserted houses must be
different to those filled with company,
though their actual appearance is of course
only known to the housekeeper who is left
in them, and housekeepers seldom give their
impressions to the world."

"If you are interested in the subject,
perhaps you will permit me to give you a
faithful photograph of Westhope in its
dismantled state."

"Evolved from your inner consciousness,
like the German's idea of the camel?"

"On the contrary, drawn in the minutest
detail from personal observation. The
exact position of the pen which Lord
Hetherington threw down after signing his
last cheque for Mr. Deacon, the steward,
the state of the withering hothouse flowers
left by her ladyship on her table in the
drawing-room, the vacant chair in the library
once filled by—-"

"Thanks, that's enough! I won't trouble
you to be poetical, Mr. Joyce, that will be
wanted one day at Helmingham, I suppose,
and it's never wise to be extravagant with
one's ideas. But you don't mean to say
you think you will be left behind here, at
Westhope, when the family returns to
town?"

"Assuredly, Lady Caroline! How else
should I be able to make any progress with
my work?"

"I think you will find," said Lady
Caroline, with a smile, "that the history of
our family, wonderfully interesting as it
doubtless is, and anxiously expected by the
literary world, as it necessarily must be,
will have to remain in abeyance for a little
time. The fact is, that Lord Hetherington
has been recently much struck with the
levelling and democratic spirit of the age,
and has determined, so far as he is able, to
stem the torrent. He will need a certain
amount of assistance before bringing the
matter before the House of Lords, and for
that assistance I know he looks to you!"

He was a trying man, this Mr. Joyce.
There was a scarcely suppressed gleam of
fun in Lady Caroline's usually earnest
eyes, that ought to have conveyed to any
man acquainted with the circumstances of
the position, the fact that this new combination
had been suggested by her, and by
her alone, and that she perfectly appreciated
not merely its serviceable but its ludicrous
side. Walter Joyce appreciated neither. He
should of course be ready to give his
services in whatever way they might be
required, he said; adding, with clumsy
candour, that he had been almost looking
forward to the time of the family's
departure, for the additional facilities which
would be afforded him in getting on with
his work.

This was too much for Lady Caroline. A
flush passed across her cheek, as she said:
"It has been Lady Hetherington's accidental,
and by no means wilful error, Mr.
Joyce, that your time has been already so
much intruded on! We have, unfortunately
for us no doubt, been unaccustomed
to the ways of recluses, and have
preposterously imagined that a little society
might be more agreeable to them than—"
But here she stopped, catching sight of
the troubled expression on his face, of his
downcast eyes and twitching lips. There
was silence for a moment, but he soon
mastered his emotion.

"I see plainly that I have blundered, as
was not unnatural that I should, through
the lack of power of expressing myself
clearly. Believe me, Lady Caroline, that
I am infinitely indebted to Lord and Lady
Hetherington, and to you especially. Yes,