He was self-possessed enough (whatever their eagerly solicitous young host may have been); and he went on, in a somewhat lofty and sententious fashion, to describe certain of the great public festivals and spectacles he had witnessed in various parts of the world. Mrs. Ellison was apparently listening, as she ate a strawberry or two; but in reality she was covertly observing the young girl (who sate somewhat apart) and taking note of every line and lineament of her features, and even every detail of her dress. Vincent brought Mr. Bethune a tumbler of claret with a lump of ice in it; he drained a deep draught; and resumed his story of pageants. Maisrie was silent, her eyes averted: the young man asked himself whether the beautiful profile, the fine nostrils, the sensitive mouth, would not plead for favour, even though she did not speak. It seemed a thousand pities that her grandfather should be in this garrulous mood. Why did not Mrs. Ellison turn to the girl direct?—he felt sure there would be an instant sympathy between those two, if only Maisrie would appeal with her wonderful, true eyes. What on earth did anyone want to know about the resplendent appearance of the White Cuirassiers of the Prussian Guard, as they rode into Prague a week or two after the battle of Königgrätz, with their dusty and swarthy faces and their copper-hued breastplates lit up by the westering sun? But, on the other hand, Mrs. Ellison was not displeased by this one-sided conversation; quite the contrary; she wanted to know all about these strange people with whom her nephew had taken up; and the more the old man talked the better she resented the intervention of a race which Master Vin dragged them all away to see; and as soon as it was over—they were now seated in the stern-sheets of the boat—she turned to Mr. Bethune with a question. "I understand," she said, in a casual sort of way, "that you know Lord Musselburgh?" At this Maisrie looked up startled. "Oh, yes," said her grandfather, in his serene and stately fashion. "Oh, yes. A most promising young man—a young man who will make his mark. Perhaps he is riding too many hobbies; and yet it might not be prudent to interfere and advise; a young man in his position is apt to be hot-headed—" "Mrs. Ellison," interposed Maisrie, "we are only slightly acquainted with Lord Musselburgh—very slightly indeed. The fact is, he was kind enough to interest himself in a book, that my grandfather hopes to bring out shortly." "Ob, really," said the pretty widow with a most charming smile (perhaps she was glad of this opportunity of talking to the young lady herself) "and may I ask—pardon my curiosity—what the subject is."