Its single large window, flung wide open, admitted the faint gale which now and then breathed over the languor of the burning noon. This window looked specially pleasant, for it had a deep recess and a seat pillowed with a white cushion, over which waved the festoons of a muslin curtain. Seating ourselves within this embayment, we leaned over the sill, and scented the jessamine whose tendrils were playing in the breeze around the casement.

‘This is Miss Moore’s own parlour,’ said Sir William pointing to a little work-table with scissors, thimble and lace upon it, and then reverting his eye to a cabinet piano with an open music book above its key-board. ‘I always appropriate when I’m left alone in a lady’s boudoir,’ he continued; and getting up softly, he was on the point of prigging something from the work-table, when a voice slightly hummed in the passage, and without any other sound, either of footstep or rustling dress, Miss Moore like an apparition dawned upon us. The Colonel turned, and she was there. He looked at her, or rather through her, before he spoke. Really, she seemed to be haloed – there was something so radiant in her whole appearance. Not the large dark eyes of the west, nor the large even arch of the eye-brow; not the enthusiastic and poetic look, nor the braided or waving locks of solemn shade; but just a girl in white, plump and very tall. Her riding-habit was gone, and her beaver; and golden locks (the word golden I use in courtesy, mind, reader) drooped on the whitest neck in Angria. Her complexion seemed to glow: it was so fair, so blooming. She had very rosy lips and a row of small even teeth sparkling like pearls; her nose was prominent and straight and her eyes very spirited. Regularity of feature by no means formed her chief charm: it was the perfection of a lively complexion and handsome figure.

The lady looked very grave; her curtsey was dignified and distant.

‘Permit me, madam,’ said the Colonel, ‘to introduce myself and my friend. I am Mr Clarke, this gentleman, Mr Gardiner. We are both clients of your father. You will have heard him mention the lawsuit now pending between Clarke and Gardiner versus Jowett.’

‘I daresay,’ returned Miss Moore, ‘though I don’t recollect just now. Will you be seated, gentlemen?’

She took her own seat on a little couch near the work-table and, resting her elbow on the arm, looked very graceful and majestic.

‘A warm morning,’ observed Sir William, by way of keeping up the conversation.

‘Very,’ she replied demurely.

‘A pretty place Mr Moore has here,’ said I.

‘Rather,’ was Miss Moore’s answer; then, carelessly taking up her work, she continued. ‘How can I serve you, gentlemen?’

Sir William rubbed his hand. He was obliged to recur to business.

‘Why, madam, will you be so good as to say to Mr Moore when he returns that James Cartwright, the witness who was so reluctant to come up, has at length consented to appear, and that consequently the trial may proceed, if he thinks proper, next month.’

‘Very well,’ said she. Then, still bending her eyes upon the lace, she continued. ‘How far have you come to tell my father this? Do you reside in the neighbourhood?’

‘No, madam, but we are both on a visit there at present. We came to look after some little mill-property we possess in Zamorna.’

‘You must have had a hot walk,’ pursued Miss Moore. ‘Will you take some refreshment?’

We both declined, but she took no notice of our refusal, and, touching a bell, ordered the servant who answered it to bring wine etc. She then quietly returned to her lace-work. We might have been lap-dogs or children for all the discomposure our presence seemed to occasion her. Sir William was a match for her, however. He sat, one leg crossed over the other, regarding her with a hard stare. I believe she knew his eyes were fixed upon her, but she kept her countenance admirably. At last he said,

‘I have had the pleasure of seeing you before, madam.’

‘Probably, sir; I don’t always stay at home.’

‘It was in Zamorna Minster last September.’

She did colour a little, and laughed, for she recollected, doubtless, the admiration with which her name had been mentioned at that time in the journals, and the thousand eyes which had been fixed upon her as the centre of attraction as she sat in her white satin robe high placed in the lofty gallery of the minster.

‘A great many people saw me at that time,’ she answered, ‘and talked about me too, for my size gave me wonderful distinction.’

‘Nothing but size?’ asked Sir William, and his look expressed the rest.

‘Will you take some salmagundi, Mr Clarke?’ said she, rising and approaching the tray which the servant had just placed on the table. Mr Clarke expressed his willingness; so did Mr Gardiner. She helped both, plentifully, and they fell to.

A knock came to the door.