He gazed long and steadily on the picture, and his features worked visibly.

“Ay!” he said.  “Nature makes no such faces nowadays.  Poor unfortunate girl!” And his voice faltered a moment.

He then began to utter, in a low grave voice, some things that took every body by surprise, by the manner as well as the matter; for, with his never once taking his eyes off the picture, and speaking in a voice softened by the sudden presence of that womanly beauty, the companion of his youth, it was just like a man speaking softly in a dream.

“Thomas, this picture will remain as it is while I live.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I find I can bear the sight of you.  As we get older we get tougher.  You look as if you didn’t want me to quarrel with your son?  Well, I will not:  there has been quarreling enough.  Any of the loyal Dences here?” But he never even turned his head from the picture to look for them.

“Only me, sir; Jael Dence, at your service.  Father’s not very well.”

“Nathan, or Jael, it is all one, so that it is Dence.  You’ll take that young gentleman home with you, and send him to bed.  He’ll want nursing:  for he got some ugly blows, and took them like a gentleman.  The young gentleman has a fancy for forging things—­the Lord knows what.  He shall not forge things in a church, and defile the tombs of his own forefathers; but” (with a groan) “he can forge in your yard.  All the snobs in Hillsborough sha’n’t hinder him, if that is his cursed hobby.  Gentlemen are not to be dictated to by snobs.  Arm three men every night with guns; load the guns with ball, not small shot, as I did; and if those ruffians molest him again, kill them, and then come to me and complain of them.  But, mind you kill them first—­complain afterward.  And now take half-a-dozen of these men with you, to carry him to the farm, if he needs it.  There, Edith!”

And still he never moved his eyes from the picture, and the words seemed to drop out of him.

Henry stood bewildered, and, ere he could say anything that might revive the dormant irritation of Mr. Raby against him, female tact interposed.  Grace clasped her hands to him, with tears in her eyes; and as for Jael Dence, she assumed the authority with which she had been invested and hurried him bodily away; and the sword-dancers all gathered round him, and they carried him in triumphant procession, with the fiddler playing, and George whistling, the favorite tune of “Raby come home again,” while every sturdy foot beat the hard and ringing road in admirable keeping with that spirit-stirring march.

When he was gone, Grace crept up to Mr. Raby, who still stood before the picture, and eyed it and thought of his youth.  She took his arm wondrous softly with her two hands, rested her sweet head against his shoulder, and gazed at it along with him.

When she had nestled to him some time in this delicate attitude, she turned her eyes up to him, and murmured, “how good, how noble you are:  and how I love you.”  Then, all in a moment, she curled round his neck, and kissed him with a tender violence, that took him quite by surprise.