She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. But about the unknown Englishman she was not so satisfied. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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