"It is one of the best in the collection.

And your interest is only an artistic one ?" Celia had only to say "Yes," and to escape; but she was not given to equivocation; moreover, her high spirit had resented the anger and suspicion in his manner, for which, she felt, he had no justification.
"Not only, my lord," she said, as quietly as before; "but the first time I saw it, I thought that the face of the portrait was like that of someone I knew." She was startled by the sudden change in his demeanour.

His brows came down again, his eyes grew piercing, his lips stern.
"Like whom ?" he demanded, shortly.
"I don't know," she said, with a slight shrug; "that is why the portrait interests me so.

If I could trace the resemblance, I should--well, not be so bothered by it." The Marquess paced to the fire and held his hands to it, as if he had become cold suddenly.
"Strange!" he said, musingly, and with an air of indifference, which Celia felt to be assumed.

"Is the man you think resembles the portrait young--or old ?" As he put the question, a sudden flood of light seemed to illumine Celia's mind; it was as if she had been gazing perplexedly on a statue swathed in its covering, and as if the covering had been swept away and the statue revealed.