'I have talked too long, I believe; we are children to the last. Leave me, Maud. I think I know you better than I did, and I am pleased with you. Go, child--I'll sit here.' If he had acquired new ideas of me, so had I of him from that interview. I had no idea till then how much passion still burned in that aged frame, nor how full of energy and fire that face, generally so stern and ashen, could appear. As I left him seated on the rustic chair, by the steps, the traces of that storm were still discernible on his features. His gathered brows, glowing eyes, and strangely hectic face, and the grim compression of his mouth, still showed the agitation which, somehow, in grey old age, shocks and alarms the young. CHAPTER XX _AUSTIN RUTHYN SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEY_ The Rev. William Fairfield, Doctor Clay's somewhat bald curate, a mild, thin man, with a high and thin nose, who was preparing me for confirmation, came next day; and when our catechetical conference was ended, and before lunch was announced, my father sent for him to the study, where he remained until the bell rang out its summons. 'We have had some interesting--I may say _very_ interesting--conversation, your papa and I, Miss Ruthyn,' said my reverend _vis-à-vis_, so soon as nature was refreshed, smiling and shining, as he leaned back in his chair, his hand upon the table, and his finger curled gently upon the stem of his wine-glass. 'It never was your privilege, I believe, to see your uncle, Mr. Silas Ruthyn, of Bartram-Haugh?' 'No--never; he leads so retired--so _very_ retired a life.' 'Oh, no,--of course, no; but I was going to remark a likeness--I mean, of course, a _family_ likeness--only _that_ sort of thing--you understand--between him and the profile of Lady Margaret in the drawing-room--is not it Lady Margaret?--which you were so good as to show me on Wednesday last. There certainly _is_ a likeness. I _think_ you would agree with me, if you had the pleasure of seeing your uncle.' 'You know him, then? I have never seen him.'