“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said he. “I hardly think so. I think myself it would be better if they had more visitors from the outside world. Lady Flamington is the only lady I have ever taken over the premises.” “I had just left there,” said the Golden Priest, “before I met you to-day. I hear she caught a severe chill last night, and is confined to her room.” “Indeed,” said Miss Crokerly; and Mr. Barringcourt and Rosalie looked at each other, from no apparent motive. When tea was over the two gentlemen rose to go. “I think,” said Mr. Barringcourt, in a lower voice, to Rosalie, as the others were speaking of a special fern which both were rearing—“I think it would not be a bad plan for you to go over the Home with Miss Crokerly. The matron will willingly take you over, and you’ll find there are worse things in the world than being deaf and dumb, or even blind.” Then somehow or other they looked at each other, the first time really since the Saturday night. How long ago it seemed now! And each was very curious about the other evidently, for Rosalie’s eyes searched his, and his eyes hers, but what conclusion either came to it would be hard to say. And then she shook hands with the Golden Priest, and the door closed. “Do you think,” said Miss Crokerly, “that Mr. Barringcourt told the Golden Priest your opinion of him, and brought him here to-day in consequence?” “No, I don’t think so,” she replied thoughtfully. “I think Mr. Barringcourt must have recognised the Golden Priest has no sense of humour, and would resent instead of forgiving opinions.” “Your tone proves appearances are deceptive. I thought by your manner you had changed your estimate of him.” Rosalie half shuddered, and stretched her hands to the blaze. “I was simply carrying out a lesson in obedience. And yet my estimate of him _has_ changed. I find him so uninteresting.” “It is the common lot of most of us to be uninteresting.” “Oh, no, indeed. You are interesting; so is Sir John; so was—was—so have been many people I have met—Mr. Barringcourt, for instance. But this man is petrified by ambition. It is eating up his heart and head.” “Well, I am not particularly fond of him myself, as I have told you. Still, I am surprised that with your views you should find Mr. Barringcourt interesting.” Rosalie’s brows knitted. “I don’t understand him. I never did understand him. Have you ever met anyone, Miss Crokerly, who at times struck you as being very, very good, and at others almost cruel? And that is how he appears to me.” “But you know so little of him.” “Yes, of course. I forgot. I spoke as if we were almost old acquaintances.” CHAPTER XXVI CONVERSATION AND A LITTLE PIG-STUFF After that a short time passed away, during which Rosalie saw much of Mr. Barringcourt and the Golden Priest, though not intimately.