"You know Blackladies?" I inquired, and perhaps with some anxiety.
"Very well," said she, with a smile of amusement.
"So I thought," said I.
"Yes," she continued, "my father was very familiar with Sir John Rookley;" and her eyes rested quietly upon mine.
"A hard man, people said, Mr. Clavering," interrupted Mr. Curwen, "but a just man and to my liking. If he was hard, God knows he had enough in Jervas to make him so."
I glanced at the daughter. She was regarding the beams which roofed the room, with supreme unconsciousness, but the very moment that I looked at her she dropped her eyes to the level of mine.
"You lack something, Mr. Clavering," said she with great politeness.
"Indeed!" said my host, rising from his chair in the excess of his hospitality.
"Indeed, sir, no; I beg of you!" I replied in confusion. And Dorothy Curwen laughed.
"A strange man was Jervas Rookley," continued Mr. Curwen, and there could be no doubt whatever about the sincerity of his unconsciousness. "He came warped from his cradle. But you will have heard of him, I doubt not, more than we know, though at one time he honoured us not infrequently with his company. But that was before I knew of his transgression in the matter of the wad-mines."