Seeing me glance round the room,—­it was a large, handsomely furnished bedroom, with a small dressing-room attached to it,—­she said, ’This is Miss Darrell’s room.  Mrs. Darrell used to occupy it, and Miss Etta slept in the dressing-room, but ever since her mother’s death she has had both rooms.’

‘Indeed,’ was my brief reply:  but I could not help thinking that Miss Darrell had very pleasant and roomy quarters.  There were evidences of luxury everywhere, from the bevelled glass of the walnut-wood wardrobe to the silver-mounted dressing-case and ivory brushes on the toilet-table.  A pale embroidered tea-gown lay across the couch, and a book that looked very much like a French novel was thrown beside it.  Miss Darrell was evidently a Sybarite in her tastes.

Uncle Max was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, and took me into the drawing-room at once.

To our surprise, we found Miss Hamilton there alone.  The room was only dimly lighted, and she was sitting in a large carved chair beside the fire with an open book in her lap.

I wonder if Max noticed how like a picture she looked.  She was dressed very simply in a soft creamy cashmere, and her fair hair was piled up on her head in regal fashion:  the smooth plaits seemed to crown her; a little knot of red berries that had been carelessly fastened against her throat was the only colour about her; but she looked more like Clytie than ever, and again I told myself that I had never seen a sweeter face.

She greeted me with gentle warmth, but she hardly looked at Max; her white lids dropped over her eyes whenever he addressed her, and when she answered him she seemed to speak in a more measured voice than usual.  Max too appeared extremely nervous; instead of sitting down, he stood upon the bear-skin rug and fidgeted with some tiny Chinese ornaments on the mantelpiece.  Neither of them appeared at ease:  was it possible that they were not friends?

‘You are not often to be found in solitude, Miss Hamilton,’ observed Max; and it struck me his voice was a little peculiar.  ’I do not think I have ever seen you sitting alone in this room before.’

‘No,’ she answered quickly, and then she went on in rather a hesitating manner:  ’Etta and Lady Betty have been shopping in Brighton, and they came back by a late train, and now Etta is shut up with Giles in his study.  Some letters that came by this morning’s post had to be answered.’

‘Miss Darrell is Hamilton’s secretary, is she not?’

’She writes a good many of his letters.  Giles is rather idle about correspondence, and she helps him with his business and accounts.  Etta is an extremely busy person.’

‘Miss Hamilton used to be busy too,’ returned Max quietly.  ’I always considered you an example to our ladies.  I lost one of my best workers when I lost you.’

A painful colour came into Miss Hamilton’s face.

‘Oh no,’ she protested, rather feebly.  ’Etta is far cleverer than I at parish work.  Teaching does not make her head ache.’