At last she moved over by Raleigh and stood there, gazing down still. "Look up," said Iden. She looked up hastily--above the canvas, and then again at the floor. Iden's dim old eyes rested a moment on the pair as they stood together; Amaryllis gazing downwards, Raleigh gazing at her. Thoughts of a possible alliance, perhaps, passed through Iden's mind; only consider, intermarriage between the Pamments and the Idens! Much more improbable things have happened; even without the marriage license the connection would be an immense honour. Grandfather Iden, aged ninety years, would most certainly have sacrificed the girl of sixteen, his own flesh and blood, joyously and intentionally to his worship of the aristocrat. If she could not have been the wife he would have forced her to be the mistress. There is no one so cruel--so utterly inhuman--as an old man, to whom feeling, heart, hope have long been dead words. "Now you can see," he said, softly and kindly. "Is it not noble?" "It looks smoky," said Amaryllis, lifting her large, dark eyes at last and looking her grandfather in the face. "Smoky!" he ejaculated, dropping his great white hat, his sunken cheeks flushing. It was not so much the remark as the tone of contemptuous rebellion. "Smoky," he repeated. "Smoky and--dingy," said Amaryllis. She had felt without actually seeing that Raleigh's gaze had been fixed upon her the whole time since they had entered, that emphatic look which so pleases or so offends a woman. Now there was nothing in Raleigh's manner to give offence--on the contrary he had been singularly pleasant, respectfully pleasant--but she remembered the fellow staring at her from the window at the "Lamb" and it biased her against him. She wished to treat him, and his pictures, and his place altogether with marked contempt. "I do not care for these pictures," she said. "I will leave now, if you please," and she moved towards the door. "Stop!" cried Iden, stretching out his hands and tottering after her. "Stop! I order you to stop! you rude girl!" He could not catch her, she had left the gallery--he slipped in his haste on the polished floor. Fred caught him by the arm or he would have fallen, and at the same time presented him with his great white hat. "Ungrateful!" he shrieked, and then choked and slobbered and mumbled, and I verily believe had it not been for his veneration of the place he would have spat upon the floor. Raleigh had rushed after Amaryllis, and overtook her at the staircase.