She then drew his attention to another picture. “Your father. Yes; I see. Time was, when I should have turned away from his portrait; but I have quite forgiven him now.”
“Since poor papa's death, Mrs. Calverley cannot bear to look at that portrait,” remarked Mildred. “But for my entreaties she would have it put away, and she now rarely enters the room.”
“That is not surprising,” said Sir Bridgnorth. “The portrait awakens painful memories.”
“But I am always pleased to look at it, and I loved papa dearly!” said Mildred. “I often come here by myself, and think I am with him.”
At this juncture, their discourse was interrupted by the sudden entrance of the very last person they expected to see.
V. THE POCKET-BOOK.
It was Chetwynd.
He looked pale and haggard, and his features had a sombre and stern expression, very different from that depicted in the canvas before them.