Nevertheless, she did not get rid of the old house and its suggestions quite as easily as she wished. The park and the river had many windings. Again and again the grey gabled mass thrust itself upon her attention, recalling each time, against her will, the face of its owner. A high brow--hollows in the temples, deep hollows in the cheeks--pale blue eyes--a short and pointed beard, greyish-black like the hair--the close whiskers black, too, against the skin--a general impression of pallor, dark lines, strong shadows, melancholy force-- She burst out laughing. A pose!--nothing in the world but a pose. There was a wretched picture of Charles I. in the dining-room--a daub "after" some famous thing, she supposed--all eyes and hair, long face, and lace collar. Mr. Helbeck was "made up" to that--she was sure of it. He had found out the likeness, and improved upon it. Oh! if one could only present him with the collar and blue ribbon complete! "--Cut his head off, and have done with him!" she said aloud, whipping up the pony, and laughing at her own petulance. Who could live in such a house--such an atmosphere? As she drove along, her mind was all in a protesting whirl. On her return from her walk with the dogs the day before, she had found a service going on in the chapel, Father Bowles officiating, and some figures in black gowns and white-winged coifs assisting. She had fled to her own room, but when she came down again, the black-garbed "Sisters" were still there, and she had been introduced to them. Ugh! what manners! Must one always, if one was a Catholic, make that cloying, hypocritical impression? "Three of them kissed me," she reminded herself, in a quiver of wrath. They were Sisters from the orphanage apparently, or one of the orphanages, and there had been endless talk of new buildings and money, while she, Laura, sat dumb in her corner looking at old photographs of the house. Helbeck, indeed, had not talked much. While the black women were chattering with Augustina and Father Bowles, he had stood, mostly silent, under the picture of his great-grandmother, only breaking through his reverie from time to time to ask or answer a question. Was he pondering the sale of the great-grandmother, or did he simply know that his silence and aloofness were picturesque, that they compelled other people's attention, and made him the centre of things more effectively than more ordinary manners could have done? In recalling him the girl had an impatient sense of something commanding; of something, moreover, that held herself under observation. "One thinks him shy at first, or awkward--nothing of the sort! He is as proud as Lucifer. Very soon one sees that he is just looking out for his own way in everything. "And as for temper!----"