A sharp shower, arriving unexpectedly, drove us all indoors, and photograph albums were put in requisition. Sir Keith brought a big volume to Elfie and me, full of foreign views, which he undertook to display. Two or three others of the party drew near to look also, including Miss Millington.
About half-way through the book, we came upon a photograph of an old street in Rouen. "It is more than two years since we were there last," Sir Keith remarked. "I always connect this scene with a poor young fellow who was in the same hotel with us,—do you remember him, mother?"
Lady Denham looked round rather vaguely from a talk with Thyrza, which seemed difficult to keep up.
"A poor fellow in a hotel!" she repeated. "No, my dear, I don't recollect. Where was it? At Rouen? Yes, I do remember that young officer who seemed so ill and miserable, and had no friends. If you mean him?"
"Hadn't he anybody with him?" inquired Elfie.
"No, Elf," Sir Keith answered. "Not only that, but he seemed to have few relatives anywhere."
"And was he very ill?" asked the Elf, her black eyes full of pity.
"Yes, quite ill for some days; and I think still more unhappy."
"What was he unhappy about? Done something wrong?" demanded Nona.
"Not that I am aware of. He did not tell me his trouble; only one could see from his face that he felt very sad. Nobody could help being sorry for him," Sir Keith went on in his kind way, and he added musingly, "What was his name? Linskell—Lemming—no,—Len—"