whose rank so contrasted the vagrancy of the grandsire by whom alone she
was acknowledged?

Tormented by these doubts, he was unable to solve them by such guarded
and delicate questions as he addressed to Sophy herself. For she, when
he falteringly asked what ailed his darling, would start, brighten up for
the momant, answer, "Nothing, now that he had come back"; kiss his
forehead, play with Sir Isaac, and then manage furtively to glide away.

But the day before that in which we now see him alone, he had asked her
abruptly, "If, during his absence, any one besides George Morley had
visited at Lady Montfort's--any one whom she had seen?" And Sophy's
cheek had as suddenly become crimson, then deadly pale; and first she
said "no," and then "yes"; and after a pause, looking away from him, she
added: "The young gentleman who--who helped us to buy Sir Isaac, he has
visited Lady Montfort--related to some dear friend of hers."

"What, the painter!"

"No--the other, with the dark eyes."

"Haughton!" said Waife, with an expression of great pain in his face.

"Yes--Mr. Haughton; but he has not been here a long, long time. He will
not come again, I believe."

Her voice quivered, despite herself, at the last words, and she began to
bustle about the room--filled Waife's pipe, thrust it into his hands with
a laugh, the false mirth of which went to his very heart, and then
stepped from the open window into the little garden, and began to sing