"Who was there?"
"Sir John Lanison for one, Martin. No, his niece did not expect him, nor
Lady Bolsover either. His arrival was a surprise to both of them."
"And to me," Martin answered; "but it is bad news. What brings him from
Aylingford? Can Rosmore be in town?"
"No, that is impossible," returned Fellowes. "He is busy with preparations for the assizes, and is in command of the military force placed at the disposal of Judge Jeffreys. For the present Rosmore is tied to the West. I would he might find a speedy grave there."
"Sir John comes like an ill-omened bird; I wish I knew his reason," said
Martin thoughtfully. "Did he speak with his niece?"
"A few words only, and there was the courtesy as of strangers between them. I could not hear what was said, but it was nothing that had any special interest for Mistress Lanison. Her expression did not change."
"Do you imagine you can read her so easily?"
"Ah, Martin, I know; there is no imagination in it. Were I cunning with a brush and colour, I could paint you a thousand of her expressions and tell you the thoughts which lay behind them all. I am a lover, remember, with all a lover's quick perception, although the lady I worship thinks no more of me than of the soiled glove she casts aside."
Martin looked at him for a moment in silence, and then laid his hand on his arm.
"Soiled gloves go in pairs, Master Fellowes."