It is Welsh, is it not?
I knew two or three persons of that name; and they were Welsh." Diana's look changed a little.
"Yes, it is Welsh," she said, in a hesitating, reserved voice; and then looked round her as though in search of a change of topic.
Sir James bent forward.
"May I come and see you some day at Beechcote ?" Diana flushed with surprise and pleasure.
"Oh! I should be so honored!" "The honor would be mine," he said, with pleasant deference.

"Now I think I see that Marsham is wroth with me for monopolizing you like this." He rose and walked away, just as Marsham brought up Mr.Barton to introduce him to Diana.
Sir James wandered on into a small drawing-room at the end of the long suite of rooms; in its seclusion he turned back to look at the group he had left behind.

His face, always delicately pale, had grown strained and white.
"Is it _possible_"-- he said to himself--"that she knows nothing ?--that that man was able to keep it all from her ?" He walked up and down a little by himself--pondering--the prey of the same emotion as had seized him in the afternoon; till at last his ear was caught by some hubbub, some agitation in the big drawing-room, especially by the sound of the girlish voice he had just been listening to, only speaking this time in quite another key.

He returned to see what was the matter.
* * * * * He found Miss Mallory the centre of a circle of spectators and listeners, engaged apparently in a three-cornered and very hot discussion with Mr.Barton, the Socialist member, and Oliver Marsham.
Diana had entirely forgotten herself, her shyness, the strange house, and all her alarms.

If Lady Niton took nothing for granted at Tallyn, that was not, it seemed, the case with John Barton.