As he was about returning this little sketch-book to his pocket, still chatting to me, he suddenly recollected poor Milly, who was looking rather lowering; but she brightened a good deal as he presented it to her, with a little speech which she palpably misunderstood, for she made one of her odd courtesies, and was about, I thought, to put it into her large pocket, and accept it as a present. 'Look at the drawings, Milly, and then return it,' I whispered. At his request I allowed him to look at my unfinished sketch of the bridge, and while he was measuring distances and proportions with his eye, Milly whispered rather angrily to me. 'And why should I?' 'Because he wants it back, and only meant to lend it to you,' whispered I. '_Lend_ it to me--and after you! Bury-me-wick if I look at a leaf of it,' she retorted in high dudgeon. 'Take it, lass; give it him yourself--I'll not,' and she popped it into my hand, and made a sulky step back. 'My cousin is very much obliged,' I said, returning the book, and smiling for her, and he took it smiling also and said-- 'I think if I had known how very well you draw, Miss Ruthyn, I should have hesitated about showing you my poor scrawls. But these are not my best, you know; Lady Knollys will tell you that I can really do better--a great deal better, I think.' And then with more apologies for what he called his impertinence, he took his leave, and I felt altogether very much pleased and flattered. He could not be more than twenty-nine or thirty, I thought, and he was decidedly handsome--that is, his eyes and teeth, and clear brown complexion were--and there was something distinguished and graceful in his figure and gesture; and altogether there was the indescribable attraction of intelligence; and I fancied--though this, of course, was a secret--that from the moment he spoke to us he felt an interest in me. I am not going to be vain. It was a _grave_ interest, but still an interest, for I could see him studying my features while I was turning over his sketches, and he thought I saw nothing else. It was flattering, too, his anxiety that I should think well of his drawing, and referring me to Lady Knollys. Carysbroke--had I ever heard my dear father mention that name? I could not recollect it. But then he was habitually so silent, that his not doing so argued nothing. CHAPTER XXXV _WE VISIT A ROOM IN THE SECOND STOREY_ Mr. Carysbroke amused my fancy sufficiently to prevent my observing Milly's silence, till we had begun our return homeward. 'The Grange must be a pretty house, if that little sketch be true; is it far from this?' ''Twill be two mile.' 'Are you vexed, Milly?' I asked, for both her tone and looks were angry. 'Yes, I am vexed; and why not lass?' 'What has happened?'