’Ah, sir, a siege is known to be one of the most tedious operations in war,’ said Captain Wybrow, with an easy smile.

’Not when there’s a traitor within the walls in the shape of a soft heart.  And that there will be, if Beatrice has her mother’s tenderness as well as her mother’s beauty.’

‘What do you think, Sir Christopher,’ said Lady Cheverel, who seemed to wince a little under her husband’s reminiscences, ’of hanging Guercino’s “Sibyl” over that door when we put up the pictures?  It is rather lost in my sitting-room.’

‘Very good, my love,’ answered Sir Christopher, in a tone of punctiliously polite affection; ’if you like to part with the ornament from your own room, it will show admirably here.  Our portraits, by Sir Joshua, will hang opposite the window, and the “Transfiguration” at that end.  You see, Anthony, I am leaving no good places on the walls for you and your wife.  We shall turn you with your faces to the wall in the gallery, and you may take your revenge on us by-and-by.’

While this conversation was going on, Mr. Gilfil turned to Caterina and said,—­’I like the view from this window better than any other in the house.’

She made no answer, and he saw that her eyes were filling with tears; so he added, ’Suppose we walk out a little; Sir Christopher and my lady seem to be occupied.’

Caterina complied silently, and they turned down one of the gravel walks that led, after many windings under tall trees and among grassy openings, to a large enclosed flower-garden.  Their walk was perfectly silent, for Maynard Gilfil knew that Caterina’s thoughts were not with him, and she had been long used to make him endure the weight of those moods which she carefully hid from others.  They reached the flower-garden, and turned mechanically in at the gate that opened, through a high thick hedge, on an expanse of brilliant colour, which, after the green shades they had passed through, startled the eye like flames.  The effect was assisted by an undulation of the ground, which gradually descended from the entrance-gate, and then rose again towards the opposite end, crowned by an orangery.  The flowers were glowing with their evening splendours; verbenas and heliotropes were sending up their finest incense.  It seemed a gala where all was happiness and brilliancy, and misery could find no sympathy.  This was the effect it had on Caterina.  As she wound among the beds of gold and blue and pink, where the flowers seemed to be looking at her with wondering elf-like eyes, knowing nothing of sorrow, the feeling of isolation in her wretchedness overcame her, and the tears, which had been before trickling slowly down her pale cheeks, now gushed forth accompanied with sobs.  And yet there was a loving human being close beside her, whose heart was aching for hers, who was possessed by the feeling that she was miserable, and that he was helpless to soothe her.  But she was too much irritated by the idea that his wishes were different from hers, that he rather regretted the folly of her hopes than the probability of their disappointment, to take any comfort in his sympathy.  Caterina, like the rest of us, turned away from sympathy which she suspected to be mingled with criticism, as the child turns away from the sweetmeat in which it suspects imperceptible medicine.