“Nonsense, Dorothy!” said Mr. Cardus, who was a bit of an antiquarian, and had now forgotten his start in his collector’s zeal, “it is a splendid find. But I forgot,” he added, in a tone of disappointment, “it does not belong to me, it belongs to Miss Ceswick.”
“O, I am sure you are welcome to it, so far as I am concerned,” said Eva, hastily. “I would not have it near me on any account.”
“O, very well. I am much obliged to you. I shall value the relic very much.”
Florence had meanwhile moved round the table, and was gazing earnestly into the crystal eyes.
“What are you doing, Florence?” asked Ernest, sharply, for the scene was uncanny, and jarred upon him.
“I?” she answered, with a little laugh; “I am seeking an inspiration. That face looks wise, it may teach me something. Besides, it is so like my own, I think she must be some far-distant ancestress.”
“So she has noticed it too,” thought Ernest.
“Put her back in the box, Jeremy,” said Mr. Cardus. “I must have an air-tight case made.”
“I can do that,” said Jeremy, “by lining the old one with lead, and putting a glass front to it.”
Jeremy set about putting the head away, touching it very gingerly. When he got it back into the oak case, he dusted it, and placed it upon a bracket that jutted from the oak panelling at the end of the room.