different rooms. Then they went into the picture-gallery. Austin,
breathless with interest, hung upon St Aubyn's lips as he pointed out
the peculiarities of each great master represented, and explained how,
for instance, by a fold of the drapery or the crook of a finger, the
characteristic mannerisms of the painter could be detected, and the
school to which a given work belonged could approximately be
determined; drew attention to the unifying and grouping of the
different features of a composition; spoke learnedly of textures,
qualities, and tactile values; and laid stress on the importance of
colour, light, atmosphere, and the sense of motion, as contrasted with
the undue preponderance too often attached by critics to mere outline.
All this was new to Austin, who had really never seen any good
pictures before, and his enthusiasm grew with what it fed on. St Aubyn
was an admirable cicerone; he loved his pictures, and he knew
them--knew everything that could be known about them--and, inspired by
the intelligent appreciation of his guest, spared no pains to do them
justice. A good half-hour was then spent over the engravings, which
were kept in a quaint old room by themselves; and afterwards they
adjourned to the garden. St Aubyn's conservatories were famous, and
his orchids of great variety and beauty. Austin seemed transported
into a world where everything was so arranged as to gratify his
craving for harmony and fitness, and he moved almost silently beside
his host in a dream of satisfaction and delight.

"By the way, there's still one room you haven't seen," remarked St
Aubyn, as they were strolling at their leisure through the grounds.
"We call it the Banqueting Hall--in that wing between the two old
towers. Queen Elizabeth was entertained there once, and it contains
some rather beautiful tapestries. I should like to have them moved
into the main building, only there's really no place where they'd fit,