“And here, ladies and gentlemen, is Ethus d’Anglesea, year 950—also old.”
Again the visitors agreed with the housekeeper. The figure was old and almost invisible.
And so she went through a dozen or more of these earlier family portraits, and came down at last to later periods, to crusaders in the reign of Richard the Lion-hearted, by gradations down to courtiers in the reign of Elizabeth, to cavaliers in the reigns of the unfortunate Stuarts, to gallants in the reigns of the Georges, and finally down to the ladies and gentlemen of the reign of Queen Victoria.
“Here, sir, is an excellent portrait of our present master, Col. Angus Anglesea, and of his late lamented lady,” said the housekeeper, pausing before two full length portraits that hung side by side, like companion pictures, at the end of the gallery.
Our travelers paused before the pictures and gazed at them in silence for some moments.
The portrait of Col. Anglesea was a very striking likeness. All our party recognized it at once as such.
But how was this? Here was the form, face and complexion, perfect to a curve of figure, perfect to a shade of color; yet the expression was different. For whereas the expression of Anglesea’s face, as our friends had known it, was either joyous, morose, or defiant, the character of this face was grave, thoughtful and benevolent. Yet it was certainly the portrait of Angus Anglesea.
Wynnette perceived the perplexity on the brows of her companions and whispered:
“A two-faced, double-dealing as well as double-dyed, villain, papa! A sanctimonious hypocrite at home and a brawling ruffian abroad!”
“I should scarcely take this to be the face of a hypocrite, my dear, or of any other than of a good, wise and brave man; yet—yet it is all very strange.”