Mr. Darrell came into the room as he was speaking; and however coldly he might have intended to receive the master of Cumber Priory, his manner soon softened and grew more cordial.  There was a certain kind of charm about Angus Egerton, not very easily to be described, which I think had a potent influence upon all who knew him.

I fancied that Mr. Darrell felt this, and struggled against it, and ended by giving way to it.  I saw that he watched his daughter closely, even anxiously, when she was talking to Angus Egerton, as if he had already some suspicion about the state of her feelings with regard to him.  Mr. Egerton had caught sight of the open portfolio, and had insisted on looking over the sketches—­not the first of Milly’s that he had seen by a great many.  I noticed the grave, almost tender, smile with which he looked at the little artistic ‘bits’ out of Cumber Wood.  He went on talking to Mr. Darrell all the time he was looking at these sketches; talking of the neighbourhood and the changes that had come about of late years, and a little of the Priory, and his intentions with regard to improvements.

‘I can only creep along at a snail’s pace,’ he said; ’for I am determined not to get into debt, and I won’t sell.’

’I wonder you never tried to let the priory in all those years that you were abroad,’ suggested Mr. Darrell.

Mr. Egerton shook his head, with a smile.

‘I couldn’t bring myself to that,’ he said, ’though I wanted money badly enough.  There has never been a strange master at Cumber since it belonged to the Egertons.  I daresay it’s a foolish piece of sentimentality on my part; but I had rather fancy the old place rotting slowly to decay than in the occupation of strangers.’

He was standing by the table where the open portfolio lay, with Milly by his side, and one of the sketches in his hands, when Mrs. Darrell came in at the window nearest to this little group, and stood on the threshold looking at him.  I think I was the only person who saw her face at that moment.  It was so sudden a look that came upon it, a look half terror, half pain, and it passed away so quickly, that I had scarcely time to distinguish the expression before it was gone; but it was a look that brought back to my memory the almost forgotten scene in the little study at Cumber Priory, and set me wondering what it could be that made the sight of Angus Egerton, either on canvas or in the flesh, a cause of agitation to Milly’s stepmother.

In the next moment Mr. Darrell was presenting his visitor to his wife; and as the two acknowledged the introduction, I stole a glance at Mr. Egerton’s face.  It was paler than usual; and the expression of Mrs. Darrell’s countenance seemed in a manner reflected in it.  It was not possible that such looks could be without some significance.  I felt convinced that these two people had met before.