"There, you see, I had the advantage; with the exception of flatly contradicting the late Mr. Campbell in his assertion about distance lending enchantment, &c., my ideas of you are thoroughly realised. But--I had seen you before." "You had!" said Barbara, feeling a pleasurable glow pass over her cheek at something in his tone. "Oh, yes; several times. The first time ten years ago, when I saw you in company with your father--" "My father! Where?" interrupted Barbara. "Where? oh, at an hotel,--Burdon's Hotel. You won't remember it, of course." (Barbara never knew why Major Stone, who was sitting near them, grinned broadly when Mr. Churchill said this.) "You were a little child then. And recently I have seen you at the Opera, and ridden past you in the Row." At this juncture Sir Marmaduke called out to Churchill from the other end of the table, and the conversation became general. Barbara watched Mr. Churchill as he took a leading part in it, his earnest face lit up, and all listening attentively to his remarks. What a clever, sensible face it was! And he went to the Opera, and rode in the Park! What about Vivien and Merlin now? CHAPTER IV. THE COMMISSIONER'S VIEWS ARE MATRIMONIAL. Mr. Charles Beresford, Junior Commissioner of the Tin-Tax Office, who was expected down at Bissett, did not leave London, as he had intended, on the day which witnessed Mr. Churchill's arrival at that hospitable mansion. His portmanteau and gun-case had been taken by his servant to the Club, where he was to call for them on his way to the station; and he had arranged with one of his brother-commissioners to undertake his work of placing his initials in the corner of various documents submitted to him. He had stayed in town longer than his wont; and as he looked out into the dreary quadrangle of Rutland House, in a block of which the Tin-Tax Office was situate, and gazed upon the blazing flags, and the dull _commissionnaires_ sitting on their bench outside the principal entrance and winking in the heat, and upon the open windows opposite,--whereat two clerks were concocting an effervescent drink in a tumbler, and stirring it round with a paper-knife,--he cursed the dulness, and expressed his delight that he was about to rusticate for a lengthened period. Nobody heard this speech; or if indeed, the words fell upon the ear of the soft-shod messenger who at that moment entered the room, he was far too dexterous and too old an official to let his face betray it. He glided softly to Mr. Beresford's elbow, as that gentleman still remained at the window, vacantly watching the powder-mixing clerks, and murmured, "Letter, sir." "Put it down," aid Beresford, without turning round. "Official, eh?" "No, sir, private. Brought just now by a groom. No answer, sir." "Give it here," said Beresford, stretching out his hand. "Ah, no answer! That'll do, Stubbs."