"Alban Morris."

"Thank you. I am Mrs. Rook. I presume you have heard of Sir
Jervis Redwood?"

"No."

"Bless my soul! You are a scholar, of course--and you have never
heard of one of your own trade. Very extraordinary. You see, I am
Sir Jervis's housekeeper; and I am sent here to take one of your
young ladies back with me to our place. Don't interrupt me! Don't
be a brute again! Sir Jervis is not of a communicative
disposition. At least, not to me. A man--that explains it--a man!
He is always poring over his books and writings; and Miss
Redwood, at her great age, is in bed half the day. Not a thing do
I know about this new inmate of ours, except that I am to take
her back with me. You would feel some curiosity yourself in my
place, wouldn't you? Now do tell me. What sort of girl is Miss
Emily Brown?"

The name that he was perpetually thinking of--on this woman's
lips! Alban looked at her.

"Well," said Mrs. Rook, "am I to have no answer? Ah, you want
leading. So like a man again! Is she pretty?"

Still examining the housekeeper with mingled feelings of interest
and distrust, Alban answered ungraciously:

"Yes."