She glanced back, her heart beat quick, she had half a mind to break loose--easy enough to over-turn the two old fogies--but--how soon "but" comes, "but" came to Amaryllis at sixteen. She remembered her father. She remembered her mother's worn-out boots. By yielding yet a little further she could perhaps contrive to keep her grandfather in good humour and open the way to a reconciliation. So the revolutionary Amaryllis, the red-hot republican blood seething like molten metal in her veins, stepped across the hated threshold of the ancient and mediæval Pamments. But we have all heard about taking the horse to water and finding that he would not drink. If you cannot even make a horse, do you think you are likely to _make_ a woman do anything? Amaryllis walked beside her grandfather quietly enough now, but she would not see or hear; he pointed out to her the old armour, the marble, the old oak; he mumbled on of the staircase where John Pamment, temp. Hen. VII., was seized for high treason; she kept her glance steadfastly on the ground. Iden construed it to be veneration, and was yet more highly pleased. Raleigh had taste enough to receive them in another room, not the whiskey-room; he met old Iden literally with open arms, taking both the old gentleman's hands in his he shook them till Iden tottered, and tears came into his eyes. Amaryllis scarcely touched his fingers, and would not raise her glance. "Raw," thought Freddie, who being tall looked over Raleigh's shoulder. "Very raw piece." To some young gentlemen a girl is a "piece." "My granddaughter," said Iden, getting his voice. "Ah, yes; like to see the galleries--fond of pictures----" Amaryllis was silent. "Answer," said Grandfather Iden graciously, as much as to say, "you may." "No," said Amaryllis. "Hum--let's see--books--library--carvings. Come, Mr. Iden, you know the place better than I do, you're an antiquarian and a scholar--I've forgotten my Greek. What would you like to show her?" "She _is_ fond of pictures," said Iden, greatly flattered that he should be thought to know the house better than the heir. "She is fond of pictures; she's shy." Amaryllis' face became a dark red. The rushing blood seemed to stifle her. She could have cried out aloud; her pride only checked her utterance. Raleigh, not noticing the deep colour in her face, led on upstairs, down the corridors, and into the first saloon. There he paused and old Iden took the lead, going straight to a fine specimen of an old Master. Holding his great grey hat (which he would not give up to the butler) at arm's-length and pointing, the old man began to show Amaryllis the beauties of the picture. "A grand thing--look," said he. "I can't see," said Amaryllis, forced to reply. "Not see!" said Iden, in a doubtful tone. "Not a good light, perhaps," said Raleigh. "Come this side." She did not move. "Go that side," said Iden. No movement. "Go that side," he repeated, sharply.