and Milord rejoiced in the interlude, for it gave him opportunity to
meditate. Anna (Mrs. Barton) seemed to him more charming and attractive
than he had ever seen her, as she sat in the quiet shadow of the
verandah: beyond the verandah, behind her, the autumn sunshine fell
across the shelving meadows. A quiet harmony reigned over Brookfield.
The rooks came flapping home through the sunlight, and when Arthur had
ceased humming Mrs. Barton said:

'And now, my dear children, if you have finished your tea, come, and I
will show you your room.'

She did not leave the verandah, however, without paying a pretty
compliment to Milord, one that set him thinking how miserable his life
would have been with his three disagreeable daughters if he had not
fallen in with this enchantment. He remembered that it had lasted for
nearly twenty years, and it was as potent as ever. In what did it
consist, he asked himself. He sometimes thought her laughter too
abundant, sometimes it verged on merriment. He did not like to think of
Anna as a merry woman; he preferred to think that wherever she went she
brought happiness with her. He had known her sad, but never melancholy,
for she was never without a smile even when she was melancholy.

Awakening from his reverie he drew his chair closer to Arthur's, and,
with a certain parade of interest, asked him if he had been to the
Academy.

'Did you see anything, Arthur, that in design approached your picture of
_Julius Cæsar Overturning the Altars of the Druids_?'

'There were some beautiful bits of painting there,' replied Arthur,