"Do you remember the picture, full-length, that had no frame--the lady
in the white-satin saque--she was beautiful, _funeste_," he added,
talking more to himself; and then more distinctly to Mrs. Julaper
again----"in the white-satin saque; and with the little mob cap and blue
ribbons to it, and a bouquet in her fingers; that was--that--you know
who she was?"

"That was your great-grandmother, my dear," said Mrs. Julaper, lowering
her eyes. "It was a dreadful pity it was spoiled. The boys in the pantry
had it for a year there on the table for a tray, to wash the glasses on
and the like. It was a shame; that was the prettiest picture in the
house, with the gentlest, rosiest face."

"It ain't so gentle or rosy now, I can tell you," said Philip. "As fixed
as marble; with thin lips, and a curve at the nostril. Do you remember
the woman that was found dead in the clough, when I was a boy, that the
gipsies murdered, it was thought,--a cruel-looking woman?"

"Agoy! Master Philip, dear! ye would not name that terrible-looking
creature with the pretty, fresh, kindly face!"

"Faces change, you see; no matter what she's like; it's her talk that
frightens me. She wants to make use of me; and, you see, it is like
getting a share in my mind, and a voice in my thoughts, and a command
over me gradually; and it is just one idea, as straight as a line of
light across the lake--see what she's come to. O Lord, help me!"

"Well, now, don't you be talkin' like that. It is just a little bit
dowly and troubled, because the master says a wry word now and then; and
so ye let your spirits go down, don't ye see, and all sorts o' fancies