There stood the _roué_--the duellist--and, with all his faults, the hero too! In that dark large eye lurked the profound and fiery enthusiasm of his ill-starred passion. In the thin but exquisite lip I read the courage of the paladin, who would have 'fought his way,' though single-handed, against all the magnates of his county, and by ordeal of battle have purged the honour of the Ruthyns. There in that delicate half-sarcastic tracery of the nostril I detected the intellectual defiance which had politically isolated Silas Ruthyn and opposed him to the landed oligarchy of his county, whose retaliation had been a hideous slander. There, too, and on his brows and lip, I traced the patience of a cold disdain. I could now see him as he was--the prodigal, the hero, and the martyr. I stood gazing on him with a girlish interest and admiration. There was indignation, there was pity, there was hope. Some day it might come to pass that I, girl as I was, might contribute by word or deed towards the vindication of that long-suffering, gallant, and romantic prodigal. It was a flicker of the Joan of Arc inspiration, common, I fancy, to many girls. I little then imagined how profoundly and strangely involved my uncle's fate would one day become with mine. I was interrupted by Captain Oakley's voice at the window. He was leaning on the window-sill, and looking in with a smile--the window being open, the morning sunny, and his cap lifted in his hand. 'Good-morning, Miss Ruthyn. What a charming old place! quite the setting for a romance; such timber, and this really _beautiful_ house. I _do_ so like these white and black houses--wonderful old things. By-the-by, you treated us very badly last night--you did, indeed; upon my word, now, it really was too bad--running away, and drinking tea with Lady Knollys--so she says. I really--I should not like to tell you how very savage I felt, particularly considering how very short my time is.' I was a shy, but not a giggling country miss. I knew I was an heiress; I knew I was somebody. I was not the least bit in the world conceited, but I think this knowledge helped to give me a certain sense of security and self-possession, which might have been mistaken for dignity or simplicity. I am sure I looked at him with a fearless enquiry, for he answered my thoughts. 'I do really assure you, Miss Ruthyn, I am quite serious; you have no idea how very much we have missed you.' There was a little pause, and, like a fool, I lowered my eyes, and blushed. 'I--I was thinking of leaving today; I am so unfortunate--my leave is just out--it is so unlucky; but I don't quite know whether my aunt Knollys will allow me to go.' '_I_?--certainly, my dear Charlie, _I_ don't want you at all,' exclaimed a voice--Lady Knollys's--briskly, from an open window close by; 'what could put that in your head, dear?' And in went my cousin's head, and the window shut down.