"But he has moral influence over her. She is very easily influenced."
"I am ready to hope even in spite of Mr. Sheldon's opposing influence. You must not try to crush this one little floweret that has grown up in a barren waste, Diana. It is my prison-flower."
Mrs. Sheldon came into the room as he said this. She was very cordial, very eloquent upon the subject of her headache, and very much inclined to go to the theatre, notwithstanding that ailment, when she heard that Mr. Hawkehurst had been kind enough to bring her a box.
"Diana and I could go," she said, "if we can manage to be in time after our six o'clock dinner. Mr. Sheldon does not care about theatres. All the pieces tire him. He declares they are all stupid. But then, you see, if one's mind is continually wandering, the cleverest piece must seem stupid," Mrs. Sheldon added thoughtfully; "and my husband is so very absent-minded."
After some further discussion about the theatres, Valentine bade the ladies good afternoon.
"Won't you stop to see Mr. Sheldon?" asked Georgina; "he's in the library with Captain Paget. You did not know that your papa was here, did you, Diana, my dear? He came in with Mr. Sheldon an hour ago."
"I won't disturb Mr. Sheldon," said Valentine. "I will call again in a few days."
He took leave of the two ladies, and went out into the hall. As he emerged from the drawing-room, the door of the library was opened, and he heard Philip Sheldon's voice within, saying,—
"—your accuracy with regard to the name of Meynell."
It was the close of a sentence; but the name struck immediately upon Valentine's ear. Meynell!—the name which had for him so peculiar an interest.