Gilbert Arundel was beginning a speech to the effect that what she said was most interesting to him, but somehow it died away on his lips. The sweet earnestness of the face which he had been watching while she spoke, the entire absence of self-consciousness, seemed to lift her above the level of compliments or flattery, which the gentlemen of the time considered the rightful inheritance of the young ladies, with whom they trifled for an hour's amusement. As she sat with her face towards the beautiful landscape over which the westering sun was casting its level rays, she seemed so far above him and bearing the "lily in her hand" of which a poet of later days than those in which Joyce lived has said that-- "Gates of brass cannot withstand One touch of that enchanted wand." The silence which fell over Gilbert was unbroken for a few minutes by any word on either side. At last Joyce said: "Is there anything I can do for Melville? He has rather a way of looking down on me, and I think I speak crossly to him sometimes. I wish you would tell me if you think I could help father about him." "If he does not listen to _you_ I should think it hopeless that he would listen to anyone," Gilbert said; "he has a way of looking down on most people." "Not on _you_?" Joyce said, with a little innocent laugh. "He made us think you were very grand and that we must alter all our ways to suit you; poor mother was to change the hours for meals, and----" "I never heard such nonsense," Gilbert said; "but I know where he got those notions from, and I may tell you this much, that the kindest thing you can do is to ask your father, to consent to his going abroad for a year as soon as may be; he will be out of harm's way. I have had some fears that the person who had such an evil influence over him might follow him here, and I was determined to circumvent him." "It was very kind of you to take this trouble. Who is the person?" "He is a step-uncle of mine; my mother's half-brother, Lord Maythorne." "Quite a grand person, then?" Joyce said. "Grand in his own eyes; yes, undoubtedly; but there is every hope that, having got what he can out of Melville, he will leave him alone. You do not know how ashamed I am to own him as a relation; and I am anxious to do all I can to atone for the mischief he may have done your brother." "Was he at Oxford with Melville?" "No: but, unhappily, he has a small place near Oxford, and was continually coming in." "Shall I tell father all about what you have told me?" "I have told him already a good deal. What I want you to do is to use every effort to persuade your father to let Melville start soon." "It would be far better if I could persuade Melville to stay here, and learn about farming." "Yes; but that, I am afraid, you will never do; and considering that your father wished him to work on the estate it was a mistake to send him to Oxford at all."