"Before that," said Raleigh. "I told you I'd show him to you some day.

That's the Behemoth."

Some grand folk keep a hump-backed cow, or white wild cattle, or strange creatures of that sort, in their parks as curiosities. The particular preserve of the Pamments was Grandfather Iden--antediluvian Iden--in short, the Behemoth.

It is not everybody who has got a Behemoth on show.

"There's a girl with him," said Fred.

"Have her in," said Raleigh. "Wake us up," ringing the bell. And he ordered the butler to fetch old Iden in.

How thoroughly in character with Human Life it was that a man like Grandfather Iden--aged, experienced, clever, learned, a man of wise old books, should lower his ancient head, and do homage to Raleigh Pamment!

"Wherefore come ye not to court?

Skelton swears 'tis glorious sport.

Chattering fools and wise men listening."

Accordingly the butler went out bare-headed--his head was as bare as Mont Blanc--and, with many a gracious smile, conveyed his master's wishes. The Behemoth, mopping and mowing, wiping his s...o...b..ry old mouth in the excess of his glorification, takes Amaryllis by the arm, and proceeds to draw her towards the mansion.

"But, grandpa--grandpa--really I'd rather not go. Please, don't make me go. No--no--I can't," she cried, in a terror of disgust. She would not willingly have set foot on the Pamment threshold, no, not for a crown of gold, as the old song says unctuously.

"Don't be afraid," said Iden. "Nothing to be afraid of"--mistaking her hesitation for awe.

"Afraid!" repeated Amaryllis, in utter bewilderment. "Afraid! I don't want to go."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, I'm sure," said the butler in his most insidious tones. "Mr. Pamment so very particularly wished to see you."

"Come--come," said old Iden, "don't be silly," as she still hung back.

"It's a splendid place inside--there, lean on me, don't be afraid," and so the grandfather pulling her one side, and the butler very, very gently pressing her forward the other, they persuaded, or rather they moved Amaryllis onward.

She glanced back, her heart beat quick, she had half a mind to break loose--easy enough to over-turn the two old fogies--but--how soon "but"

comes, "but" came to Amaryllis at sixteen. She remembered her father.

She remembered her mother's worn-out boots. By yielding yet a little further she could perhaps contrive to keep her grandfather in good humour and open the way to a reconciliation.

So the revolutionary Amaryllis, the red-hot republican blood seething like molten metal in her veins, stepped across the hated threshold of the ancient and mediaeval Pamments.

But we have all heard about taking the horse to water and finding that he would not drink. If you cannot even make a horse, do you think you are likely to _make_ a woman do anything?

Amaryllis walked beside her grandfather quietly enough now, but she would not see or hear; he pointed out to her the old armour, the marble, the old oak; he mumbled on of the staircase where John Pamment, temp.

Hen. VII., was seized for high treason; she kept her glance steadfastly on the ground.

Iden construed it to be veneration, and was yet more highly pleased.

Raleigh had taste enough to receive them in another room, not the whiskey-room; he met old Iden literally with open arms, taking both the old gentleman's hands in his he shook them till Iden tottered, and tears came into his eyes.

Amaryllis scarcely touched his fingers, and would not raise her glance.

"Raw," thought Freddie, who being tall looked over Raleigh's shoulder.

"Very raw piece."

To some young gentlemen a girl is a "piece."

"My granddaughter," said Iden, getting his voice.

"Ah, yes; like to see the galleries--fond of pictures----"

Amaryllis was silent.

"Answer," said Grandfather Iden graciously, as much as to say, "you may."

"No," said Amaryllis.

"Hum--let's see--books--library--carvings. Come, Mr. Iden, you know the place better than I do, you're an antiquarian and a scholar--I've forgotten my Greek. What would you like to show her?"

"She _is_ fond of pictures," said Iden, greatly flattered that he should be thought to know the house better than the heir. "She is fond of pictures; she's shy."

Amaryllis' face became a dark red. The rushing blood seemed to stifle her. She could have cried out aloud; her pride only checked her utterance.

Raleigh, not noticing the deep colour in her face, led on upstairs, down the corridors, and into the first saloon. There he paused and old Iden took the lead, going straight to a fine specimen of an old Master.

Holding his great grey hat (which he would not give up to the butler) at arm's-length and pointing, the old man began to show Amaryllis the beauties of the picture.

"A grand thing--look," said he.

"I can't see," said Amaryllis, forced to reply.

"Not see!" said Iden, in a doubtful tone.

"Not a good light, perhaps," said Raleigh. "Come this side."

She did not move.

"Go that side," said Iden.

No movement.

"Go that side," he repeated, sharply.

At last she moved over by Raleigh and stood there, gazing down still.

"Look up," said Iden. She looked up hastily--above the canvas, and then again at the floor.

Iden's dim old eyes rested a moment on the pair as they stood together; Amaryllis gazing downwards, Raleigh gazing at her. Thoughts of a possible alliance, perhaps, pa.s.sed through Iden's mind; only consider, intermarriage between the Pamments and the Idens! Much more improbable things have happened; even without the marriage license the connection would be an immense honour.

Grandfather Iden, aged ninety years, would most certainly have sacrificed the girl of sixteen, his own flesh and blood, joyously and intentionally to his worship of the aristocrat.

If she could not have been the wife he would have forced her to be the mistress.

There is no one so cruel--so utterly inhuman--as an old man, to whom feeling, heart, hope have long been dead words.