In these circumstances, Bram lost all self-consciousness, all remembrance of his unaccustomed dress, of his attitudes, of his awkwardness, and entered the drawing-room utterly absorbed in thoughts of Claire. Old Mrs. Cornthwaite, who was fumbling about with a lapful of feminine trifles, smelling-bottle, handkerchief, spectacle-case, dropped one of them, and he hastened to pick it up. “Thank you,” said she, with a gracious, good-humored smile, “you are more attentive than any of the grand folk.” “Mamma,” cried Hester in fidgety exasperation. And good-naturedly fearing that he might have been hurt by her mother’s lack of tact, she opened the old-fashioned, but not unhelpful, album of photographs, which lay on a table near her, and asked him if he cared for pictures of Swiss scenery. “Not much, Miss Hester,” said Bram. But he went up to the table, encouraged by her kind manners, by the honest look in her eyes, in the hope that he might find a supporter in her of the cause he had at heart. “But I should like to see some photographs of you and Mr. Christian, if you have any.” She opened another album, smiling as she did so, and offering him a chair near her, which he immediately took. “I never show these unless I am asked,” she said. “Family photographs I always think uninteresting, except to the family.” “And to those interested in the family,” amended Bram. “You see, Miss Hester, there’s hardly another thing in the world I care about so much. That’s only natural, isn’t it, after what I’ve been treated like at their hands.” He was conscious that his English was getting doubtful under the influence of the emotion which he could not master. But Miss Cornthwaite seemed, of course, not to notice this. She was extremely well disposed towards this frank young man with the earnest eyes, the heavy, obstinate mouth, and the long, straight chin, which gave so much character to his pale face. “Christian always speaks of you with such boyish delight, as if he had discovered you bound hand and foot in the midst of cannibals who wanted to eat you,” said she laughing. “So he did, Miss Hester,” answered Bram gravely, almost harshly. He could not speak, could not think of Chris just now without betraying something of the emotion the name aroused in him. And he glanced angrily across to the corner where Chris was sitting beside prim little Miss Hibbs, who was giggling gently at his remarks, but clasping her hands tightly together, and keeping her arms pinned closely to her sides, as if she felt that she was unbending more than was meet, and that she must atone for a little surface hilarity by this penitential attitude. Hester Cornthwaite noticed the glance thrown by Bram, and felt curious. “I am very glad he is going to be married,” she said quickly, with an intuition that he would not agree with her. Bram looked her full in the face in a sudden and aggressive manner. “Why are you glad?” he asked abruptly. She was rather disconcerted for a moment.