The Trespasser | Page 9

was agitated.
"I hope not, sir."
"But you will, Falby, unless--"

"Yessir?"
"Unless you are both the serpent and the dove, Falby."
"Yessir."
As they entered the hall, Brillon with the saddle-bags was being taken
in charge, and Gaston saw what a strange figure he looked beside the
other servants and in these fine surroundings. He could not think that
himself was so bizarre. Nor was he. But he looked unusual; as one of
high civilisation might, through long absence in primitive countries,
return in uncommon clothing, and with a manner of distinguished
strangeness: the barbaric to protect the refined, as one has seen a bush
of firs set to shelter a wheat-field from a seawind, or a wind-mill water
cunningly- begotten flowers.
As he went through the hall other visitors were entering. They passed
him, making for the staircase. Ladies with the grand air looked at him
curiously, and two girls glanced shyly from the jingling spurs and
tasselled boots to his rare face.
One of the ladies suddenly gave a little gasping cry, and catching the
arm of her companion, said:
"Reine, how like Robert Belward! Who--who is he?"
The other coolly put up her pince-nez. She caught Gaston's profile and
the turn of his shoulder.
"Yes, like, Sophie; but Robert never had such a back, nor anything like
the face."
She spoke with no attempt to modulate her voice, and it carried
distinctly to Gaston. He turned and glanced at them.
"He's a Belward, certainly, but like what one I don't know; and he's
terribly eccentric, my dear! Did you see the boots and the sash? Why,
bless me, if you are not shaking! Don't be silly--shivering at the thought

of Robert Belward after all these years."
So saying, Mrs. Warren Gasgoyne tapped Lady Dargan on the arm, and
then turned sharply to see if her daughters had been listening. She saw
that they had; and though herself and not her sister was to blame, she
said:
"Sophie, you are very indiscreet! If you had daughters of your own, you
would probably be more careful--though Heaven only knows, for you
were always difficult!"
With this they vanished up the staircase, Mrs. Gasgoyne's daughters,
Delia and Agatha, smiling at each other and whispering about Gaston.
Meanwhile the seeker after a kingdom was shown into Sir William
Belward's study. No one was there. He walked to the mantelpiece, and,
leaning his arm on it, looked round. Directly in front of him on the wall
was the picture of a lady in middle-life, sitting in an arbour. A crutch
lay against one arm of her chair, and her left hand leaned on an ebony
silver-topped cane. There was something painful, haunting, in the face
--a weirdness in the whole picture. The face was looking into the
sunlight, but the effect was rather of moonlight--distant, mournful. He
was fascinated; why, he could not tell. Art to him was an unknown
book, but he had the instinct, and he was quick to feel. This picture
struck him as being out of harmony with everything else in the room.
Yet it had, a strange compelling charm.
Presently he started forward with an exclamation. Now he understood
the vague, eerie influence. Looking out from behind the foliage was a
face, so dim that one moment it seemed not to be there, and then
suddenly to flash in--as a picture from beyond sails, lightning-like,
across the filmy eyes of the dying. It was the face of a youth, elf-like,
unreal, yet he saw his father's features in it.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. It seemed very dim. Indeed, so
delicately, vaguely, had the work been done that only eyes like
Gaston's, trained to observe, with the sight of a hawk and a sense of the
mysterious, could have seen so quickly or so distinctly. He drew slowly

back to the mantel again, and mused. What did it mean? He was sure
that the woman was his grandmother.
At that moment the door opened, and an alert, white-haired man
stepped in quickly, and stopped in the centre of the room, looking at his
visitor. His deep, keen eyes gazed out with an intensity that might
almost be fierceness, and the fingers of his fine hands opened and shut
nervously. Though of no great stature, he had singular dignity. He was
in evening- dress, and as he raised a hand to his chin quickly, as if in
surprise or perplexity, Gaston noticed that he wore a large seal-ring. It
is singular that while he was engaged with his great event, he was also
thinking what an air of authority the ring gave.
For a moment the two men stood at gaze without speaking, though
Gaston stepped forward respectfully. A bewildered, almost shrinking
look came into Sir William's eyes,