CHAPTER XXIV.
SELF-WONDER AND SELF-SCORN.
"Something there is moves me to love, and I
Do know I love, but know not how, nor why."
A. BROME.
As John and his children withdrew together through the garden, Justina
Fairbairn sat with her work on her knees, watching them.
"Mr. Mortimer is six-and-thirty, is he not?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Emily.
"How much he improves in appearance!" she observed; "he used not to be thought handsome when he was very young—he is both handsome and stately now."
"It is the way with the Mortimers, I think," said Emily. "I should not wonder if in ten years' time Val is just as majestic as the old men used to be, though he has no dignity at all about him now."
"Yes, majesty is the right word," said Justina serenely. "Mr. Mortimer has a finer presence, a finer carriage than formerly; it may be partly because he is not so very thin as he used to be."