red, whereas Colin’s thick beard and scanty locks were dark brown, and with a far larger admixture of hoar-frost, though he was the younger by twenty years, and his brother’s appearance gave the impression of a far greater age than fifty-eight, there was the stoop of rheumatism, and a worn, thin look on the face, with its high cheek bones, narrow lips, and cold eyes, by no means winning.  On the other hand, he was the most finished gentleman that Grace and Rachel had ever encountered; he had all the gallant polish of manner that the old Scottish nobility have inherited from the French of the old regime—­a manner that, though Colin possessed all its essentials, had been in some degree rubbed off in the frankness of his military life, but which the old nobleman retained in its full perfection.  Mrs. Curtis admired it extremely as a specimen of the “old school,” for which she had never ceased to mourn; and Rachel felt as if it took her breath away by the likeness to Louis XIV.; but, strange to say, Lady Temple acted as if she were quite in her element.  It might be that the old man’s courtesy brought back to her something of the tender chivalry of her soldier husband, and that a sort of filial friendliness had become natural to her towards an elderly man, for she responded at once, and devoted herself to pleasing and entertaining him.  Their civilities were something quite amusing to watch, and in the evening, with a complete perception of his tastes, she got up a rubber for him.

“Can you bear it?  You will not like to play?” murmured the colonel to her, as he rung for the cards, recollecting the many evenings of whist with her mother and Sir Stephen.

“Oh!  I don’t mind.  I like anything like old times, and my aunt does not like playing—­”

No, for Mrs. Curtis had grown up in a family where cards were disapproved, and she felt it a sad fall in Fanny to be playing with all the skill of her long training, and receiving grand compliments from Lord Keith on joint victories over the two colonels.  It was a distasteful game to all but the players, for Rachel felt slightly hurt at the colonel’s defection, and Mr. Touchett, with somewhat of Mrs. Curtis’s feeling that it was a backsliding in Lady Temple, suddenly grew absent in a conversation that he was holding with young Mr. Keith upon—­of all subjects in the world—­lending library books, and finally repaired to the piano, where Grace was playing her mother’s favourite music, in hopes of distracting her mind from Fanny’s enormity; and there he stood, mechanically thanking Miss Curtis, but all the time turning a melancholy eye upon the game.  Alick Keith, meanwhile, sat himself down near Rachel and her mother, close to an open window, for it was so warm that even Mrs. Curtis enjoyed the air; and perhaps because that watching the colonel had made Rachel’s discourses somewhat less ready than usual, he actually obtained an interval in which to speak!  He was going the next day to Bishops