So Cousin Monica was at the door in a moment, over her shoulder calling to us, 'Come, girls.'
'Please, not yet, my lady—you alone; and he requests the young ladies will be in the way, as he will send for them presently.'
I began to admire poor 'Giblets' as the wreck of a tolerably respectable servant.
'Very good; perhaps it is better we should kiss and be friends in private first,' said Cousin Knollys, laughing; and away she went under the guidance of the mummy.
I had an account of this tête-à-tête afterwards from Lady Knollys.
'When I saw him, my dear,' she said, 'I could hardly believe my eyes; such white hair—such a white face—such mad eyes—such a death-like smile. When I saw him last, his hair was dark; he dressed himself like a modern Englishman; and he really preserved a likeness to the full-length portrait at Knowl, that you fell in love with, you know; but, angels and ministers of grace! such a spectre! I asked myself, is it necromancy, or is it delirium tremens that has reduced him to this? And said he, with that odious smile, that made me fancy myself half insane—
'"You see a change, Monica."
'What a sweet, gentle, insufferable voice he has! Somebody once told me about the tone of a glass flute that made some people hysterical to listen to, and I was thinking of it all the time. There was always a peculiar quality in his voice.
'"I do see a change, Silas," I said at last; "and, no doubt, so do you in me—a great change."