Now this was not quite all that the Miss Cliffords wanted, and as Colonel Raymond raised his head from the examination of the picture, Clara looked slyly at him. Now, when Miss Clara looked sly there was no possibility of missing it; she looked sly, so to speak, with both hands. The Colonel, as he often said himself, was a prodigious observer, and he observed this. “Eh, what?” he began, and then suddenly a possible explanation of Miss Clifford’s slyness came into his mind. He was that nature of a man who cannot endure that any one should know a piece of gossip or news before himself, and he determined to appear at least as well-informed as Miss Clifford. “Ah, you have heard something, too, Miss Clifford,” he said. “How these things get about! But I understand it is to be kept quite secret at present, except from a few friends. Of course, as long as they are in mourning, you understand--a great thing for the Collingwoods. Puts them among the county families.” The Colonel raised his eyes to the ceiling as he had observed Miss Fortescue do when she wished to say no more on any subject, and congratulated himself on having come with credit out of that. Both the Miss Cliffords were bursting with curiosity to hear more, but the Colonel tactfully led the subject round to other topics. “Jack Collingwood was at Oxford with our cousin Arthur,” he said. “Wonderful place, Oxford; I spent a night there once. It would suit you and your literary tastes, Miss Clara. Plenty of opportunity for study. What a treat, by the way, you gave us in the last Observer. Brought tears into my eyes, positively brought tears into my eyes.” All this was very pleasant, but, the great secret told, the Miss Cliffords were almost anxious for the departure of the Colonel, for they longed to talk the matter over. The Colonel, however, was in good spirits, and he remained. “Very pleasant and gratifying it is,” he said, “to see our cousins settling down here in the way they are doing. Jeannie--Miss Jeannie said to me to-day how much she enjoyed Wroxton.” “And does Mr. Avesham enjoy it?” asked Miss Clara. “I have not had an opportunity of talking to him about it,” said the Colonel, cautiously, “but he must be hard to please--he must be hard to please if he does not. What a charming life for a young man! For a few hours a day he has his work, but when that is over, what a choice! A game of whist at the club, the pleasures of the home circle--and Miss Fortescue is such a shrewd, delightful woman--or, or, if his tastes are literary, a call at Villa Montrose.” “Colonel Raymond, how can you!” cried Miss Clara, in an ecstasy of slyness; “how can you be so wicked?” “Robert likes his joke,” said Mrs. Raymond, in her colourless voice. “He means nothing, Miss Clifford. Do you, Robert?” “My dear, a soldier sticks to what he says,” said the Colonel. “Or Arthur can come and take a glass of the best port in the Midlands with Constance and me.”