"Yes, yes. She was very beautiful. And she died, Dick; she died." He bent his head over his music, and Richard crossed and laid his hand upon his shoulder. "I am sorry I spoke so thoughtlessly." "Oh, no, my boy; oh, no. It was quite right. She was a very beautiful woman. That miniature does not do her justice. But--but don't marry a beautiful woman, Dick," he continued, gazing wistfully into his son's face. "Now that _adagio_. It is a favourite bit of mine." Richard Linnell looked as if he would have liked to speak, and there was a troubled expression on his face as he thought of Claire Denville's sweet candid eyes; but he shrank from any avowal. For how dare he, when she had given him but little thought, and--well, she was a beautiful woman, one of those against whom he had been warned. He looked up and found his father watching him keenly, when both assumed ignorance of any other matter than the _adagio_ movement, the sweet notes of which, produced by the thrilling strings, floated out through the open window, and up and in that of the drawing-room floor overhead, where on a luxurious couch Mrs Dean had thrown herself, while her daughter was slowly pacing the room with the air of a tragedy queen. "Buzz-buzz; boom-boom! Oh, those horrid fiddlers!" cried Mrs Dean, bouncing up and crossing to the fireplace, where she caught up the poker; but only to have her hand seized by her daughter, who took the poker away, and replaced it in the fender. "What are you going to do?" "What am I going to do? Why thump on the floor to make them quiet. Do you suppose I'm going to sit here and be driven mad with their scraping! This isn't a playhouse!" "You will do nothing of the sort, mother." "Oh, won't I? Do you think I'm going to pay old Barclay all that money for these rooms, and not have any peace? Pray who are you talking to?" "To you, mother," said Cora sternly; and the stoutly-built, brazen-looking virago shrank from her daughter's fierce gaze. "You must not forget yourself here, among all these respectable people." "And pray who's going to? But I don't know so much about your respectability. That Colonel, with his queer looks like the devil in `Dr Faustus,' is no better than he should be." "The Colonel is a man of the world like the rest," said Cora coldly. "Yes, and a nice man of the world, too. And that old Linnell's living apart from his wife. I know though--" "Silence!" "Now look here, Betsy, I won't have you say _silence_ to me like that. This here isn't the stage, and we aren't playing parts. Just you speak to me proper, madam." "Mother, I will not have you speak of Mr Linnell like that." "Ho, indeed! And why not, pray? Now, look here, Betsy," she cried, holding up a warning finger, "I won't have no nonsense there. I'm not a fool. I know the world. I've seen you sighing and looking soft when we've passed that young fellow downstairs." Cora's eyes seemed to burn as she fixedly returned her mother's look.