He took her hands into one of his and touched fondly her beautiful hair, that so well set-off the small and shapely head, and kissed her tenderly. Mr. Castlemaine was fond of his niece, and very proud of her. "Your face is cold, Uncle James." "Fresh with the out-of-door cold, my dear. I walked in." "All the way from Greylands!" He laughed at her "all the way." It was but three miles; scarcely that. "I felt inclined for the walk, Mary Ursula. The carriage will come in to take me home." "Is Ethel well, Uncle James? And Mrs. Castlemaine?" "Quite so, my dear. What are you doing here?" She had sat down to the table again, and he bent his head over her to look at her drawing. There was a moment's silence. "Why it is--it is the Friar's Keep!" exclaimed Mr. Castlemaine. "Yes," she answered. "I sketched its outlines when at your house last summer, and I have never filled it in until now." She sketched as she did everything else--almost perfectly. The resemblance was exact, and Mr. Castlemaine said so. "It seems to me already completed!" he observed. "All but the shading of the sky in the back-ground." "Why have you made those two windows darker than the rest?" Miss Castlemaine smiled as she answered jestingly, "I thought there should be no opportunity given for the appearance of the Grey Friar in my drawing, Uncle James." Mr. Castlemaine drew in his lips with a peculiar twist. The jest pleased him. "Have you seen much of the Grey Sisters lately, Uncle James?" This did not please him. And Mary Ursula, as she caught the involuntary frown that knitted his bold brow, felt vexed to have asked the question. Not for the first time, as she well recalled, had Mr. Castlemaine shown displeasure at the mention of the "Grey Sisters." "Why do you not like them, Uncle James?" "I cannot help thinking that Greylands might get on better if it were rid of them," was the short reply of Mr. Castlemaine. But he passed at once from the subject. "And we are not to have this fair young lady-hostess at the dinner-table's head to-night?" he cried, in a different and a warm tone, as he gazed affectionately at his niece. "Mary Ursula, it is a sin. I wish some customs were changed! And you will be all alone!" "'Never less alone than when alone,'" quoted Mary Ursula: "and that is true of me, uncle mine. But to-night I shall not be alone in any sense, for Agatha Mountsorrel is coming to bear me company." "Agatha Mountsorrel! I don't care for her, Mary Ursula. She is desperately high and mighty." "All the Mountsorrels are that--with their good descent and their wealth, I suppose they think they have cause for it--but I like her. And I fancy that is her carriage stopping now. There's six o'clock, uncle; and you will be keeping the soup waiting." Six was striking from the room's silver-gilt timepiece. "I suppose I must go," said Mr. Castlemaine. "I'd rather stay and spend the evening with you."