“Oh, only for a moment!” cried Nancy. The outbreak had relieved her. He made her sit down in his own great chair, and was silent for a few minutes, looking at her with serious sympathy. She was not afraid of Sir John. He (she divined) would never find her out, however she might betray herself. He was not quick, like needles, like the ladies. There was safety in him. And this sense of security helped her to conquer herself. She got up presently with a smile, and said she was better. The old man was in no hurry--he was pleased with his pretty companion, and quite willing to humour her. After this, he took her all round the library, not sparing her a single relic. He had not been so much interested for ever so long. She listened to all he said with the prettiest interest, and if she did not say much, what did that matter? “I am very ignorant,” she said to begin with, and he liked her all the better. They suited each other entirely. She did not get impatient as my lady did, or make fun of everything, which Lucy would sometimes have the audacity to do; but listened with the greatest interest as if she never could hear too much. The library was nearly exhausted when the bell rang for luncheon. “Lady Curtis will wonder what has become of us,” he said, giving her his arm again, “and I am sure I have worn you out.” Meanwhile Lucy and her mother were smiling at each other. “We have no chance you see, even with your father, against a pretty stranger,” Lady Curtis said, “but I hope she is not tired of all these antiquities, as you and I are, Lucy, when we oughtn’t to be.” “Oh, she will not show it,” said Lucy, with a little slight involuntary touch of scorn; but Lady Curtis did not find this sentiment out. “Yes, she is a sympathetic young creature. She was all but crying with me about Arthur, though she can’t know anything of Arthur. It may not be what hard people call quite sincere, but it is very charming and goes to one’s heart.” “Oh! I did not say she was not sincere,” said Lucy with compunction; and then the luncheon bell roused them, and they went across the hall to the dining-room, following Sir John, who issued from his library at the same moment, and led the way with his courtly old-gentlemanly politeness leading the stranger. Age is the period in which politeness becomes most exquisite--like that _cortesia_ which the old Italians make into an attribute of God himself. Sir John placed Nancy next to himself at table. She had never sat at a table so daintily served. The big silent footmen almost filled her with awe. She had never seen anything of the kind but in the Paris hotel, which after all was only an hotel, served by chattering rapid waiters, not solemn buckram men like this. Nancy was awed, every moment more and more. “Now you have had her long enough,” said Lady Curtis. “She has to see the drawing-room now, and all the state rooms.”