Hardinge to himself. "Poor little girl--she won't fancy that
either!")

"Why not send her to you sister then?" says he aloud.

"I'm not sure that she would like to have her," says the professor,
with hesitation. "I confess I have been thinking it over for some
days, but----"

"But perhaps the fact of your ward's being an heiress----" begins
Hardinge--throwing out a suggestion as it were--but is checked by
something in the professor's face.

"My sister is the Countess of Baring," says he gently.

Hardinge's first thought is that the professor has gone out of his
mind, and his second that he himself has accomplished that deed. He
leans across the table. Surprise has deprived him of his usual good
manners.

"Lady Baring!--_your _sister!" says he.



CHAPTER IX.



"Your face, my Thane, is as a book, where men
May read strange matters."