Paul’s eye had been caught some moments before by a lady coming towards them, at sight of whom a sudden flush came over his face. A lady! was she a lady? She was dressed very simply in a black alpaca gown, the long plain lines of which harmonised and gave elegance to a tall, well-developed figure. The dress was well made and graceful, such as any lady might have worn; but the little hat upon the young woman’s head was doubtful. Even Sir William, who looked somewhat anxiously at her, seeing the flush on his son’s face, felt that it was doubtful. The faded brown velvet and scrubby little feather did not suit the rest of the dress. She walked well, as she came towards them, but when she perceived Paul and his companion, an air of embarrassment which was half fright came over her face. When Paul, all red and glowing with a mixture of feelings which Sir William could not fathom, took off his hat, she gave him an alarmed, inquiring look, blushed fiercely, and replied to his salutation with a hurried nod of her head, which made the question of her position more uncertain than ever. Still she was a handsome young woman: before she had seen Paul, Sir William himself had remarked her stately carriage and figure. “Who is that?” he repeated, suspicious, as a parent naturally is of a young man’s unknown female friends, yet not unprepared to hear that it was somebody not unworthy to be known by Sir William Markham’s son; for it might well be that ladies in a learned community, fearless of misconception, were not always so particular as could be desired about their hats. He turned half round and gave a glance after her as she continued her way, which, as she had just done the same, was somewhat awkward. But Paul marched straight forward and took no notice. “Who is that?” Sir William repeated, sharply, determined this time to have a reply. Paul’s blush and discomfiture, and his marked and ceremonious recognition of the stranger, meant several things. They meant that he felt himself certain to be misconstrued, yet was too proud and too sincere to take any means of avoiding misconstruction; that he was annoyed by the encounter, alarmed by the new idea which his father would certainly take up in consequence; yet forced by this alarm and annoyance to show a more marked and excessive courtesy to the person (oh, had she but gone down another street and kept out of the way!) whose appearance plunged him into so much confusion, and would, he felt sure, complicate everything. Whether this sudden liveliness of consciousness did not mean that there was cause for alarm is another matter. In the meantime all that Paul felt was that the girl’s name once mentioned must add tenfold to the difficulty of his position. “Who is it? It is Spears’s eldest daughter,” he said curtly, with a new and brilliant suffusion of colour over all his face.