70 Turnaside Cottage.

what he was like. He seemed not so old as I had
thought him at first, but odd-looking, with sandy
hair and thick overhanging eyebrows, and a tall,
gaunt figure; but there was a kindly look about
the mouth that comforted me, and I drew myself
an inch further on to my chair. The room was
full of books—sober, brown-backed volumes for
the most part—some on shelves, some piled up on
tables. An open piano caught my wondering
attention for a moment, but I passed on to consider
with still more awe-struck contemplation a violin-
case, which stimulated my curiosity to no small
degree. It was a long while before I learned what
it contained, and I thought it looked so very like a
little coffin. On the walls hung three or four good
prints, and two oil-paintings. One, I decided on
further acquaintance, was a portrait of my master
in his youth ; there were the same shrewd, kindly
eycs, the same guileless smile, only all younger and
fresher. The other picture represented a sunsct
landscape, with a lake and half-ruined temple. I
was wondering whether it was a picture of his
old home, and thinking how Monna would have
enjoyed such a pond in the hot weather, when Mr.
Hurst put down the letter and said, “He is very
fond of Miss Churchill, is he not ?”
“Oh yes, sir!” I answered, warmly.