the library fire, presumably enjoying Othello, but really watching her brother's secretary, who was busily transcribing from a big black-letter volume before him some of the glorious deeds of her remote ancestry. Raising his eyes after one of his pen-dips, Joyce met Lady Caroline's glance fixed straight upon him, and said:
"Thinking of Iago's subtlety, Lady Caroline, or Desdemona's innate weakness? The former, I should say, judging from your expression."
"My expression must be very poor, then, Mr. Joyce, or your powers of reading expression must be extremely limited. I was thinking of something totally different."
"May one ask of what?" He had had a long day at the chronicles of the West family, and a little relief was absolutely necessary.
"Oh dear yes, my thoughts were certainly not to be marked 'confidential' or even 'private.' I was thinking about our going back to town."
"Oh indeed! Is that imminent?"
"I should say certainly. Parliament meets within a fortnight, and West, I mean Lord Hetherington, never misses that. Lady Hetherington won't let him go alone, and once in Beaufort-square, I suppose they'll stop on."
"I suppose so. This house will seem wonderfully different when you have all left it."
"Naturally. Deserted houses must be different to those filled with company, though their actual appearance is of course only known to the housekeeper who is left in them, and housekeepers seldom give their impressions to the world."
"If you are interested in the subject, perhaps you will permit me to give you a faithful photograph of Westhope in its dismantled state.
"Evolved from your inner consciousness, like the German's idea of the camel?"
"On the contrary, drawn in the minutest detail from personal observation. The exact position of the pen which Lord Hetherington threw down after signing his last cheque for Mr. Deacon, the steward. the state of the withering hothouse flowers left by her ladyship on her table in the drawing-room, the vacant chair in the library once filled by"
"Thanks, that's enough! I won't trouble you to be poetical, Mr. Joyce, that will be wanted one day at Helmingham, I suppose, and it's never wise to be extravagant with one's ideas. But you don't mean to say you think you will be left behind here, at Westhope, when the family returns to town?"
"Assuredly, Lady Caroline! How else should I be able to make any progress with my work?"
"I think you will find," said Lady Caroline, with a smile, "that the history of our family, wonderfully interesting as it doubtless is, and anxiously expected by the literary world, as it necessarily must be, will have to remain in abeyance for a little time. The fact is, that Lord Hetherington has been recently much struck with the levelling and democratic spirit of the age, and has determined, so far as he is able, to stem the torrent. He will need a certain amount of assistance before bringing the matter before the House of Lords, and for that assistance I know he looks to you!"
He was a trying man, this Mr. Joyce. There was a scarcely suppressed gleam of fun in Lady Caroline's usually earnest eyes, that ought to have conveyed to any man acquainted with the circumstances of the position, the fact that this new combination had been suggested by her, and by her alone, and that she perfectly appreciated not merely its serviceable but its ludicrous side. Walter Joyce appreciated neither. He should of course be ready to give his services in whatever way they might be required, he said; adding, with clumsy candour, that he had been almost looking forward to the time of the family's departure, for the additional facilities which would be afforded him in getting on with his work.
This was too much for Lady Caroline. A flush passed across her cheek, as she said: "It has been Lady Hetherington's accidental, and by no means wilful error, Mr. Joyce, that your time has been already so much intruded on! We have, unfortunately for us no doubt, been unaccustomed to the ways of recluses, and have preposterously imagined that a little society might be more agreeable to them than" But here she stopped, catching sight of the troubled expression on his face, of his downcast eyes and twitching lips. There was silence for a moment, but he soon mastered his emotion.
"I see plainly that I have blundered, as was not unnatural that I should, through the lack of power of expressing myself clearly. Believe me, Lady Caroline, that I am infinitely indebted to Lord and Lady Hetherington, and to you especially. Yes,
