"He used to sing in the choir of their church," Percival went on. "They photographed him once in his surplice--a sort of ideal chorister. All the old ladies went into raptures, and said he looked like an angel." "And the young ladies?" said Mrs. Middleton. "Showed that they thought it." "H'm!" said Mr. Thorne. "And where may this paragon be?" "At Oxford." "Going into the Church?" "I don't know, I'm sure. Not that I ever heard: I don't fancy his tastes lie that way. He is very musical: probably that was why he joined the choir." "I should say Lisle had money enough," said Godfrey Hammond: "he lives in very good style--if anything, a little too showy perhaps. He won't want a profession. Most likely he will spend his life in thinking that one of these days he will do something wonderful and convulse the musical world. Happy fellow!" "But suppose he doesn't do it?" said Sissy. "Happier fellow still! He will never have a doubt, and never know what failure is." "Perhaps," she said, looking at the bright beautiful face, "it would be better if Mr. Lisle were poor." "I doubt if he would appreciate the kindness which doomed him to poverty," smiled Hammond. "But perhaps he would not only dream then of something great: he might do it," said Sissy. "That is, do you think he could really do anything great?" "I don't know, I'm sure. Talent looks very big in a small room." "Is he the only one?" Mrs. Middleton inquired of Percival. "The only son: there is a daughter." "A daughter! Is she as wonderful as her brother?" Sissy exclaimed. "Have you got her photograph? What is she like?" "I will tell you," said Godfrey Hammond, speaking very deliberately in his high-pitched voice. "Miss Lisle is a very charming young lady. She is like her brother, but she is not so good-looking, and she is decidedly more masculine." "Oh!" in a disdainful tone. Then, turning swiftly round: "But what do you say, Percival?" He answered her, but he looked at Godfrey: "Hardly a fair description--not so much a portrait as a caricature. Miss Lisle's features are not so perfect as her brother's: she would not attract the universal admiration which he does. But I think there could be no question that hers is the nobler face." "She is fortunate in her champion," said Hammond. "It's all right, no doubt, and the fault is mine. I may not have so keen an eye for latent nobility." "Stick to her brother, then, and let Miss Lisle alone;" and Percival stooped over his copying again. Sissy came back to the table, but as she passed the lonely figure by the chimney-piece she spoke: "You are very silent, to-night, Horace." "I don't seem to have much to say for myself, do I?" She took up her knitting, and after a moment he came and stood by her. The light fell on his face. "And you don't look well," she said. "There's not much amiss with me." "I shall betray you," said Percival as he ruled a line. "He coughed in the hall, Sissy: I heard him, three times."