“I was quite prepared for all this. I think I saw the reaction beginning as you signed the paper.” “No, there you wrong me, Philip. I wrote boldly, like a man who felt that he was making a great resolve, and could stand by it. You 'll never guess when what you have called 'the reaction' set in.” “I am curious to know when that was.” “I 'll tell you. You remember our visit to Castello. You thought it a strange caprice of mine to ask the lawyer whether, now that all was finally settled between us, I might be permitted to see the house--which, as the family had left, could be done without any unpleasantness. I believe my request amused _him_ as much as it did _you_; he thought it a strange caprice, but he saw no reason to refuse it, and I saw he smiled as he sat down to write the note to the housekeeper. I have no doubt that he thought, 'It is a gambler's whim;' he wants to see the stake he played for, and what he might perhaps have won had he had courage to play out the game.' _You_ certainly took that view of it.” The other muttered something like a half assent, and the former speaker continued, “And you were both of you wrong. I wanted to see the finished picture of which I possessed the sketch--the beautiful Flora--whose original was my grandmother. I cannot tell you the intense longing I had to see the features that pertained to one who belonged to me; a man must be as utterly desolate as I am, to comprehend the craving I felt to have something--anything that might stand to me in place of family. It was this led me to Castello, and it was this that made me, when I crossed the threshold, indifferent to all the splendors of the place, and only occupied with one thought, one wish--to see the fresco in the Octagon Tower--poor old Giacomo's great work--the picture of his beautiful daughter. And was she not beautiful? I ask you, Philip, had Raphael himself ever such a model for sweetness of expression? Come, come. You were just as wild as myself in your enthusiasm as you stood before her; and it was only by a silly jest that you could repress the agitation you were so ashamed of.” “I remember I told you that the family had terribly degenerated since her day.” “And yet you tried to trace a likeness between us.” “You won't say that I succeeded,” said he, with a laugh. “It was then as I stood there gazing on her, thinking of her sad story, that I bethought me what an ignoble part it was I played to compromise the rights that she had won, and how unworthy I was to be the descendant of the beautiful Enrichetta.” “You are about the only man I ever met who was in love with his grandmother.” “Call it how you like, her lovely face has never left me since I saw it there.” “And yet your regret implies that you are only sorry not to have made a better bargain.”