The picture was lying on the table when Glanville entered: my first
impulse was to seize and secrete it; my second to suffer it to remain,
and to watch the effect the sight of it might produce. In following the
latter, I thought it, however, as well to choose my own time for
discovering the miniature; and as I moved to the table, I threw my
handkerchief carelessly over it. Glanville came up to me at once, and his
countenance, usually close and reserved in its expression, assumed a
franker and bolder aspect.

"You have lately changed towards me," he said:--"mindful of our former
friendship, I have come to demand the reason."

"Can Sir Reginald Glanville's memory," answered I, "supply him with no
probable cause?"

"It can," replied Glanville, "but I would not trust only to that. Sit
down, Pelham, and listen to me. I can read your thoughts, and I might
affect to despise their import--perhaps two years since I should--at
present I can pity and excuse them. I have come to you now, in the love
and confidence of our early days, to claim, as then, your good opinion
and esteem. If you require any explanation at my hands, it shall be
given. My days are approaching their end. I have made up my accounts with
others--I would do so with you. I confess, that I would fain leave behind
me in your breast, the same affectionate remembrance I might heretofore
have claimed, and which, whatever be your suspicions, I have done nothing
to forfeit. I have, moreover, a dearer interest than my own to consult in
this wish--you colour, Pelham--you know to whom I allude; for my sister's
sake, if not for my own, you will hear me."