It must have been," he added, looking on the ground, and speaking in an absent way; "for as it happens, my brother"-- he nodded towards the portrait--"was unmarried, had no relations other than myself and my son." He turned away to the fire again.

"Oh, yes; only a fancied one.

Good night." This was a definite dismissal, and Celia, murmuring, "Good night, my lord," went up the stairs.

At the bend of the corridor she glanced down involuntarily.

The Marquess had turned from the fire again, and was looking, with bent brows, at the portrait..