“Tell me something before I answer you,” said Father Benwell.  “How old do you take Miss Eyrecourt to be?”

“I am not a good judge in such matters.  Between twenty and twenty-five, perhaps?”

“We will take her age at that estimate, Arthur.  In former years, I have had opportunities of studying women’s characters in the confessional.  Can you guess what my experience tells me of Miss Eyrecourt?”

“No, indeed!”

“A lady is not in love for the first time when she is between twenty and twenty-five years old—­that is my experience,” said Father Benwell.  “If I can find a person capable of informing me, I may make some valuable discoveries in the earlier history of Miss Eyrecourt’s life.  No more, now.  We had better return to our friends.”

CHAPTER V.

FATHER BENWELL MISSES.

THE group before the picture which had been the subject of dispute was broken up.  In one part of the gallery, Lady Loring and Stella were whispering together on a sofa.  In another part, Lord Loring was speaking privately to Romayne.

“Do you think you will like Mr. Penrose?” his lordship asked.

“Yes—­so far as I can tell at present.  He seems to be modest and intelligent.”

“You are looking ill, my dear Romayne.  Have you again heard the voice that haunts you?”

Romayne answered with evident reluctance.  “I don’t know why,” he said—­“but the dread of hearing it again has oppressed me all this morning.  To tell you the truth, I came here in the hope that the change might relieve me.”

“Has it done so?”

“Yes—­thus far.”

“Doesn’t that suggest, my friend, that a greater change might be of use to you?”

“Don’t ask me about it, Loring!  I can go through my ordeal—­but I hate speaking of it.”

“Let us speak of something else then,” said Lord Loring.  “What do you think of Miss Eyrecourt?”

“A very striking face; full of expression and character.  Leonardo would have painted a noble portrait of her.  But there is something in her manner—­” He stopped, unwilling or unable to finish the sentence.

“Something you don’t like?” Lord Loring suggested.

“No; something I don’t quite understand.  One doesn’t expect to find any embarrassment in the manner of a well-bred woman.  And yet she seemed to be embarrassed when she spoke to me.  Perhaps I produced an unfortunate impression on her.”

Lord Loring laughed.  “In any man but you, Romayne, I should call that affectation.”

“Why?” Romayne asked, sharply.

Lord Loring looked unfeignedly surprised.  “My dear fellow, do you really think you are the sort of man who impresses a woman unfavorably at first sight?  For once in your life, indulge in the amiable weakness of doing yourself justice—­and find a better reason for Miss Eyrecourt’s embarrassment.”