- ship I valued most dearly." He hoped that Kennaston
would pardon the foibles of old age and overlook this trespass upon Kennaston's time. For the prelate had, he said, really a personal interest in the only surviving relative of his dead friend.
"There is a portrait of you, sir, in my library—very gorgeous, in full canonicals—just as my uncle left the room," said Kennaston, all at sea. But the prelate had begun to talk—amiably, and in the most commonplace fashion conceivable—of his former life in Lichfield, and of the folk who had lived there then, and to ask questions about their descendants, which Kennaston answered as he best could. The whole affair was puzzling Kennaston, for he could think of no reason why this frail ancient gentleman should have sent for a stranger, even though that stranger were the nephew of a dead friend, just that they might discuss trivialities.
So their talking veered, as it seemed, at random. . . .
"Yes, I was often a guest at Alcluid—a very beautiful home it was in those days, famed, as I
