I had an account of this _tete-a-tete_ 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."
'"There has been time enough to work a greater than I observe in you since
you last honoured me with a visit," said he.
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