CHAPTER XX

_AUSTIN RUTHYN SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEY_


The Rev. William Fairfield, Doctor Clay's somewhat bald curate, a mild,
thin man, with a high and thin nose, who was preparing me for confirmation,
came next day; and when our catechetical conference was ended, and before
lunch was announced, my father sent for him to the study, where he remained
until the bell rang out its summons.

'We have had some interesting--I may say _very_ interesting--conversation,
your papa and I, Miss Ruthyn,' said my reverend _vis-à-vis_, so soon as
nature was refreshed, smiling and shining, as he leaned back in his chair,
his hand upon the table, and his finger curled gently upon the stem of his
wine-glass. 'It never was your privilege, I believe, to see your uncle, Mr.
Silas Ruthyn, of Bartram-Haugh?'

'No--never; he leads so retired--so _very_ retired a life.'

'Oh, no,--of course, no; but I was going to remark a likeness--I mean,
of course, a _family_ likeness--only _that_ sort of thing--you
understand--between him and the profile of Lady Margaret in the
drawing-room--is not it Lady Margaret?--which you were so good as to show
me on Wednesday last. There certainly _is_ a likeness. I _think_ you would
agree with me, if you had the pleasure of seeing your uncle.'

'You know him, then? I have never seen him.'

'Oh dear, yes--I am happy to say, I know him very well. I have that