The chief thing I had to look forward to in this journey we are making was, thsit we might return by way of Paris, and that I might see that picture again.  You must contrive that we do return that way.  Ellesmere will do anything to please you, and Milverton is always perfectly indifferent as to where he goes, so that he is not asked to see works of art, or to accompany a party of sight-seers to a cathedral.  We will go and see this picture together once; and once I must see it alone.

And a very touching sight it would be to one who knew the story, the grey-haired old clergyman looking, for a long while, at that young face.  It would be indeed a contrast, the aged man, and the youthful figure in the picture.  Dunsford never saw Alice again after his early disappointment:  he never saw her as she grew matronly and then old; and so, though now in her grave, she remained in his memory the same young thing forever.  The years which had made him grow old, had wrought not the slightest change upon her.  And Alice, old and dead, was the same on the canvas still.

Dunsford’s purpose in telling his love-story, was to caution Mildred against falling in love with Milverton.  She told him there was no danger.  Once, she frankly said, she had long struggled with her feelings, not only from natural pride, but for the sake of Blanche, who loved Milverton better and would be less able to control her love.  But she had quite got over the struggle; and though now intensely sympathizing with her cousin, she felt she never could resolve to marry him.  So the conversation ended satisfactorily; and then a short sentence shows us a scene, beautiful, vivid, and complete:—­

We walked home silently amidst the mellow orchards glowing ruddily in the rays of the setting sun.

The next chapter contains an Essay and conversation on Criticism:  but its commencement shows us Dunsford still employed in the interests of his friends.  He tells Milverton that Blanche is growing fond of him.  We can hardly give Milverton credit for sincerity or judgment in being “greatly distressed and vexed.”  For once, he was shamming.  All middle-aged men are much flattered and pleased with the admiration of young girls.  Milverton declared that the thing must be put a stop to; that “the idea of a young and beautiful girl throwing her affections away upon a faded widower like himself, was absurd.”  However, as the days went on, Milverton began to be extremely attentive to Blanche; asked her opinion about things quite beyond her comprehension; took long walks with her, and assured Dunsford privately that “Blanche had a great deal more in her than most people supposed, and that she was becoming an excellent companion.”  Who does not recognize the process by which clever men persuade themselves into the belief that they are doing a judicious thing in marrying stupid women?

The chapter which follows that on Criticism, contains a conversation on Biography, full of interesting suggestions which our space renders it impossible for us to quote; but we cannot forego the pleasure of extracting the following paragraphs.  It is Milverton who speaks:—­