three or four days at the most—not long enough for the portrait to be finished."
"I am very sorry," said the girl. "Perhaps you will return."
"Perhaps."
Something in his tone, in the manner, as he said that one word, made a curious impression on Elizabeth. Was it fancy? It seemed as though that simple rejoinder had been charged with some special meaning.
Mrs. Shaw had to pay a visit of ceremony, a visit of gratified social ambition, some miles distant, that afternoon. A great lady—the greatest, indeed, in the county—who had hitherto ignored Mrs. Shaw, had lately left cards upon her. It was rumoured that this condescension was not wholly unconnected with Elizabeth's appearance at Farley. The duchess had a second son, a clever young man, in Parliament, of whom great things were expected, but he was very poor. The duchess was anxious he should "marry money." This was said with many winks and shakes of the head. Mrs. Shaw had heard the insinuation, but it did not affect the satisfaction afforded by a recognition she had wished and waited for so long. She was now to return the visit in state, but she thought it unnecessary that Elizabeth should accompany her. Uncle William having a Board of Guardians to attend, her niece and Colonel Wybrowe could ride out together; and both acceded to this suggestion. The man, indeed, could hardly do otherwise; the girl was nothing loth.
Elizabeth rode well and fearlessly, and she was mounted on her beloved Bruno, which her father had given her the year before he died. She looked to greater advantage
