She thanked him almost mockingly, and then their conversation turned upon the safe ground of generalities--upon art, and books, and foreign travel, where both were at home. He found Mrs. Lynn his equal in every sense. Her mind was rarely cultured and stored with knowledge, her thoughts were beautiful and crystal clear. She held her own with the ease and grace of one who knew the world, yet retained the native innocence and frankness of a child. St. Leon's hauteur and reserve melted before the charm of her manner, and he became his natural self again, meeting her on her own ground with polished words and brilliant thoughts. Their glances met each other's calmly, telling no tales of that "auld lang syne" when "eyes looked love to eyes that spake again." "Two maskers! what had they to do With vows forsworn and loves untrue?" Mrs. Le Roy gave her attention to Mr. Ford and the child. She had drawn little Laurence to a seat by her side, and was showing him some fine engravings. She could not keep her fascinated eyes from the beautiful, spirited, boyish face that bore such a startling resemblance to that of her own son. Mr. Ford watched her closely, and he saw that her heart had gone out to the child, and that she was trying to win his love in return. He looked on approvingly, longing, in the depths of his unselfish heart, for a reconciliation between the long-parted husband and wife. "Neither one is happy," he said to himself, looking at them as they sat talking calmly like strangers--the proud husband and the proud wife. "That man has a story written on his face; he has suffered intensely; is it possible he does not suspect the truth? Can he look at her--speak to her--and not recognize her? It almost seems impossible. There was never beauty before like hers--never such winsomeness and artless grace. Before I came here I despised St. Leon Le Roy. Why is it that I pity him now? Is it because I can read his sorrow and repentance in the sadness of his face?" Mr. Le Roy, rising at that moment, said, quietly, looking at his mother: "I am taking Mrs. Lynn to the library, mother, to show her a book we have been discussing, if you and Mr. Ford will excuse us." "Certainly," both answered in a breath; and they went away, followed by Mrs. Le Roy's startled glance. "Your niece is very beautiful," she said, turning back, after a moment, to Mr. Ford. "Has she been long a widow?" "Seven years," he answered. "Then the child has never known his father?" she said, with a light, pitying touch of her ringed white hand on the boy's dark, clustering curls. "No--much to the lad's regret," said Mr. Ford. "I dare say you have acted a father's part by the fatherless one," she remarked, turning her grave, questioning eyes on his face. It seemed as if she was fascinated to speak of little Laurence. She could not keep her eyes nor her thoughts from him.