Cryptography and Network Security Principles and Practice 6th Edition William Stallings Test Bank instant download
Cryptography and Network Security Principles and Practice 6th Edition William Stallings Test Bank instant download
https://testbankdeal.com/product/cryptography-and-network-security-
principles-and-practice-6th-edition-william-stallings-test-bank/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/cryptography-and-network-security-
principles-and-practice-7th-edition-stallings-test-bank/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/cryptography-and-network-security-
principles-and-practice-7th-edition-stallings-solutions-manual/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/computer-security-principles-and-
practice-4th-edition-stallings-test-bank/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/chemistry-a-molecular-approach-
canadian-2nd-edition-tro-solutions-manual/
Marriages Families and Intimate Relationships 4th Edition
Williams Solutions Manual
https://testbankdeal.com/product/marriages-families-and-intimate-
relationships-4th-edition-williams-solutions-manual/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/biology-how-life-works-2nd-edition-
morris-test-bank/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/brunnstroms-clinical-kinesiology-6th-
edition-houglum-test-bank/
https://testbankdeal.com/product/financial-accounting-tools-for-
business-decision-making-canadian-5th-edition-kimmel-test-bank/
Cryptography and Network Security: Principles and Practice, 6th Edition, by William
Stallings
TRUE OR FALSE
MULTIPLE CHOICE
2. Triple DES makes use of __________ stages of the DES algorithm, using a total of
two or three distinct keys.
A. nine B. six
C. twelve D. three
A. IEEE B. ISO
C. NIST D. ITIL
4. The _________ and _________ block cipher modes of operation are used for
authentication.
5. __________ modes of operation have been standardized by NIST for use with
symmetric block ciphers such as DES and AES.
A. Three B. Five
C. Nine D. Seven
6. The output of the encryption function is fed back to the shift register in
Output Feedback mode, whereas in ___________ the ciphertext unit is fed back
to the shift register.
7. The simplest form of multiple encryption has __________ encryption stages and
__________ keys.
8. The __________ algorithm will work against any block encryption cipher and
does not depend on any particular property of DES.
9. The __________ method is ideal for a short amount of data and is the
appropriate mode to use if you want to transmit a DES or AES key securely.
11. “Each block of plaintext is XORed with an encrypted counter. The counter is
incremented for each subsequent block", is a description of ___________ mode.
12. The __________ mode operates on full blocks of plaintext and ciphertext, as
opposed to an s-bit subset.
A. CBC B. ECB
C. OFB D. CFB
A. CBC B. CTR
C. ECB D. CFB
A. OFB B. S-AES
C. 3DES D. XTS-AES
15. Both __________ produce output that is independent of both the plaintext and
the ciphertext. This makes them natural candidates for stream ciphers that
encrypt plaintext by XOR one full block at a time.
SHORT ANSWER
2. The most significant characteristic of __________ is that if the same b-bit block
of plaintext appears more than once in the message, it always produces the
same ciphertext.
4. Five modes of operation have been standardized by NIST for use with
symmetric block ciphers such as DES and AES: electronic codebook mode,
cipher block chaining mode, cipher feedback mode, __________, and counter
mode.
6. "The input to the encryption algorithm is the XOR of the next 64 bits of
plaintext and the preceding 64 bits of ciphertext" is a description of __________
mode.
11. The _________ must be a data block that is unique to each execution of the
encryption operation and may be a counter, a timestamp, or a message
number.
Cryptography and Network Security: Principles and Practice, 6th Edition, by William
Stallings
12. A __________ cipher can operate in real time and eliminates the need to pad a
message to be an integral number of blocks.
14. The plaintext of a sector or data unit is organized in to blocks of 128 bits. For
encryption and decryption, each block is treated independently. The only
exception occurs when the last block has less than 128 bits. In that case the
last two blocks are encrypted/decrypted using a ___________ technique instead
of padding.
15. The __________ standard describes a method of encryption for data stored in
sector-based devices where the threat model includes possible access to
stored data by the adversary. Some characteristics of this standard include:
the ciphertext is freely available for an attacker, the data layout is not
changed on the storage medium and in transit, and the same plaintext is
encrypted to different ciphertexts at different locations.
Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Within the
Maze: A Novel, Vol. 1 (of 2)
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.
Language: English
COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS
TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
VOL. 1270.
BY
COPYRIGHT EDITION.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1872.
CONTENTS
OF VOLUME I.
CHAPTER
I. Mrs. Andinnian's Home.
II. Lucy Cleeve.
III. Done at Sunset.
IV. The Trial.
V. Unable to get strong.
VI. An Atmosphere of Mystery.
VII. At the Charing-Cross Hotel.
VIII. In the Avenue d'Antin.
IX. Down at Foxwood.
X. Mrs. Andinnian's Secret.
XI. At the Gate of the Maze.
XII. Taking an Evening Stroll.
XIII. Miss Blake gets in.
XIV. Miss Blake on the Watch.
XV. Revealed to Lady Andinnian.
XVI. A Night at the Maze.
XVII. Before the World.
XVIII. A Night Alarm.
XIX. In the same Train.
XX. Only one Fly at the Station.
XXI. Hard to Bear.
XXII. With his Brother.
CHAPTER I.
The occupant of this house was a widow lady, Mrs. Andinnian. Her
husband, a post-captain in the Royal Navy, had been dead some
years. She had two sons. The elder, Adam, was of no profession,
and lived with her: the younger, Karl, was a lieutenant in one of Her
Majesty's regiments. Adam was presumptive heir to his uncle, Sir
Joseph Andinnian, a baronet of modern creation: Karl had his
profession alone to look to, and a small private income of two
hundred a year.
They were not rich, these Andinnians: though the captain had
deemed himself well-off, what with his private fortune, and what
with his pay. The private fortune was just six hundred a year; the
pay not great: but Captain Andinnian's tastes were simple, his wants
few. At his death it was found that he had bequeathed his money in
three equal parts: two hundred a year to his wife, and two hundred
each to his sons. "Adam and his mother will live together," he said in
the will; "she'd not be parted from him: and four hundred pounds,
with her bit of pension, will be enough for comfort. When Adam
succeeds his uncle, they can make any fresh arrangement that
pleases them. But I hope when that time shall come they will not
forget Karl."
Mrs. Andinnian resented the will, and resented these words in it.
Her elder boy, Adam, had always been first and foremost with her:
never a mother loved a son more ardently than she loved him. For
Karl she cared not. Captain Andinnian was not blind to the injustice,
and perhaps thence arose the motive that induced him not to leave
his wife's two hundred pounds of income at her own disposal: when
Mrs. Andinnian died, it would lapse to Karl. The captain had loved
his sons equally: he would willingly have left them equally provided
for in life, and divided the fortune that was to come sometime to
Adam. Mrs. Andinnian, in spite of the expected rise for Adam, would
have had him left better off from his father's means than Karl.
There had been nearly a lifelong feud between the two family
branches. Sir Joseph Andinnian and his brother the captain had not
met for years and years: and it was a positive fact that the latter's
sons had never seen their uncle. For this feud the brothers
themselves were not in the first instance to blame. It did not arise
with them, but with their wives. Both ladies were of a haughty,
overbearing, and implacable temper: they had quarrelled very soon
after their first introduction to each other; the quarrel grew, and
grew, and finally involved the husbands as well in its vortex.
Joseph Andinnian, who was the younger of the two brothers, had
been a noted and very successful civil engineer. Some great work,
that he had originated and completed, gained him his reward--a
baronetcy. While he was in the very flush of his new honours, an
accident, that he met with, laid him for many months upon a sick-
bed. Not only that: it incapacitated him for future active service. So,
when he was little more than a middle-aged man, he retired from his
profession, and took up his abode for life at a pretty estate he had
bought in Kent, called Foxwood Court, barely an hour's railway
journey from London: by express train not much more than half one.
Here, he and his wife had lived since: Sir Joseph growing more and
more of an invalid as the years went on. They had no children;
consequently his brother, Captain Andinnian, was heir to the
baronetcy: and, following on Captain Andinnian, Adam, the captain's
eldest son.
"I am dying, Joseph," said the captain, when some of their mutual
emotion had worn away. "The doctors tell me so, and I feel it to be
true. Naturally, it has set me on the thought of many things--that I
am afraid I have been too carelessly putting off. What I have come
down to you chiefly for, is to ask about my son--Adam. You'll tell me
the truth, won't you, Joseph, as between brothers?"
"I'll tell you anything, Harry," was Sir Joseph's answer. "The truth
about what?"
"It's not the title I was thinking of, Joseph. Failing a direct heir, I
know that must come to him. But the property?--will he have that?
It is not entailed; and you could cut him out absolutely."
"D'ye think I'd be so unjust as that, Harry?" was the half indignant
reply. "A baronet's title, and nothing to keep it up upon! I have never
had an idea of leaving it away from you; or from him if you went
first. When Adam succeeds to my name and rank, he will succeed to
my property. Were my wife to survive me, she'd have this place for
life, and a good part of the income: but Adam would get it all at her
death."
"A bad thing that--no profession," interrupted Sir Joseph. "If I had
ten sons, and they were all heirs to ten baronetcies, each one should
be brought up to use his brains or his hands."
"It's what I have urged over and over again," avowed the captain.
"But the wife--you know what she is--set her face against it. 'He'll be
Sir Adam Andinnian of Foxwood,' she'd answer me with, 'and he
shall not soil his hands with work.' I have been nearly, always afloat,
too, Joseph: not on the spot to enforce things: something has lain in
that."
"I wonder the young man should not have put himself forward to
be of use in the world!"
"Adam is idly inclined. I am sorry for it, but it is so. One thing has
been against him, and that's his health. He's as tall and strong a
young fellow to look at as you'd meet in a summer's day, but he is, I
fear, anything but sound in constitution. A nice fellow too, Joseph."
Sir Joseph nodded. The somebody else was the captain's wife, and
Adam's mother. Sir Joseph's own wife was not exempt from the
same kind of failing: but in a less wild degree than Mrs. Andinnian.
With her the defects of temper partook more of the nature of
sullenness.
"But Adam seems to have outgrown all that: I've seen and heard
nothing of it since he came to manhood," resumed the captain. "I
wish from my heart he had some profession to occupy him. His
mother always filled him up with the notion that he would be your
heir and not want it."
"Adam has a pursuit that he makes a hobby of; and that is his
love of flowers; in fact his love of gardening in any shape. He'll be
out amidst the plants and shrubs from sunrise to sunset. Trained to
it, he'd have made a second Sir Joseph Paxton. I should like you to
see him: he is very handsome."
"No. Karl."
"Ay, Karl. His mother was in Germany when he was born, it being
a cheap place to live in--I was only a poor lieutenant then, Joseph,
and just gone off to be stationed before the West Indies. A great
friend of hers, there, some German lady, had a little boy named Karl.
My wife fell in love with the name, and called her own infant after
it."
"Because all the love her nature's capable of--and in her it's
tolerably strong--is given to Adam. She can't spare an atom from
him: her love for him is as a kind of idolatry. For one thing, she was
very ill when Karl was born, and neither nursed nor tended him: he
was given over to the care of her sister who lived with her, and who
had him wholly, so to say, for the first three years of his life."
"You ought to see him," burst forth the Captain with animation.
"He's everything that's good and noble arid worthy. Joseph, there
are not many young men of the present day so attractive as Karl."
"Not he. A tendency to patience, rather. They have put upon him
at home--between ourselves; kept him down, you know; both
mother and brother. He is several years younger than Adam; but
they are attached
to each other. A more gentle-natured, sweet-tempered lad than Karl
never lived: all his instincts are those of a gentleman. He will make
a brave soldier. He is ensign in the -- regiment."
"Yes: Karl has been lucky. He will have to make his own way in the
world, for I can't give him much. But now that I am assured of your
intentions as to Adam, things look a trifle brighter. Joseph, I thank
you with all my heart."
Once more the brothers clasped hands. This reunion was the
pleasantest event of their later lives. The captain remained two days
at Foxwood. Lady Andinnian was civilly courteous to him, but never
cordial. She did not second her brother's pressing wish that he
should prolong his stay: neither did she once ask after any of his
family.
"It is strange Sir Joseph does not write for him," ran her
thoughts--and they very often did run in the same groove. "I cannot
imagine why he does not. Adam ought to be on the spot and get
acquainted with his inheritance: his uncle must know he ought. But
that I have never stooped to ask a favour in my life, I would write to
Sir Joseph, and proffer a visit for Adam, and--for--yes, for me.
During that woman's lifetime Adam was not likely to be welcomed
there: but the woman's gone: it is two months this very day since
she died."
Lift her head and her ears as she would, she could not tell
positively whose voices they were. Instinct, however, that instinct of
suspicion we all feel within us on occasion, was enough.
A very respectable manservant of middle age, thoughtful in face,
fair in complexion, with a fringe of light hair round the sides of his
otherwise bald head, entered the room and presented a note to his
mistress. "Who is it from?" she asked as she took it off the silver
waiter. An old waiter, bearing the Andinnian crest.
"Mrs. Pole's housemaid has brought it, ma'am. She is waiting for
an answer."
The man went across the garden and through the wilderness of
shrubs. There stood his master at an open gate, talking to a very
pretty girl with bright hair and rosy cheeks.
Hewitt went back with the message. The young lady who had
turned to one of her own flower-beds, for the gardens joined, was
bending over some budding tulips.
"I think they will be out next week, Mr. Andinnian," she looked
round to say.
Years before, Adam and Karl Andinnian had made friends with the
little child: they continued to be intimate with her as brothers and
sister. Latterly, it had dawned on Mrs. Andinnian's perception that
Adam and Miss Turner were a good deal together; certainly more
than they need be. Adam had even come to neglect his flowers, that
he so much loved, and to waste his time talking to Rose. It cannot
be said that Mrs. Andinnian feared any real complication--any
undesirable result of any kind; the great difference in their ages
might alone have served to dispel the notion: Adam was thirty-three;
Miss Turner only just out of her teens. But she was vexed with her
son for being so frivolous and foolish: and, although she did not
acknowledge it to herself, a vague feeling of uneasiness in regard to
it lay at the bottom of her heart. As to Adam, he kept his thoughts
to himself. Whether this new propensity to waste his hours with Miss
Turner arose out of mere pastime, or whether he entertained for her
any warmer feeling, was, his own secret.
They were standing together again at the small iron gate, ere the
sound of Hewitt's footsteps had well died away. Rose Turner had the
true golden hair that ladies have taken to covet and spend no end of
money on pernicious dyes to try and obtain. Her garden hat was
untied, and she was playing with its strings.
"Rose, I must know all; and I insist upon your telling me. Go on."
"It was last night, was it, that he came up, this brute of a Scott?"
"Last night, about six," she answered. "We were at tea, and my
aunt asked him to take some--"
"Yes; and eat two muffins all to himself," laughed Miss Turner,
trying to turn the anger off. Mr. Andinnian did not like the merriment.
"Yes. Aunt went to the kitchen to see about something that was to
be prepared for my uncle's supper--for she is fidgety over the
cooking, and never will trust it to the servant. Martin Scott then
began to tease as usual; saying how much he cared for me, and
asking me to wait for him until he could get into practice."
"I told him that he had already had his answer from me and that
he had no right to bring the matter up again; it was foolish besides,
as it only set me more against him. Then I sat down to the piano
and played the Chatelaine--he only likes rattling music--and sang a
song, thinking it would pass the time in peace until aunt returned.
By-and-by I heard my uncle's latch-key in the front door, and I was
crossing the room to go out and meet him, when Martin Scott laid
hold of my arm, and--and kissed me."
Mr. Andinnian bit his lips almost to bleeding. His face was frightful
in its anger. Rose shivered a little.
"I am sorry I told you, Mr. Andinnian."
"Now listen, Rose. If ever this Martin Scott does the like again, I'll
shoot him."
"I shall warn him. In the most unmistakable words; words that he
cannot misconstrue; I will warn him of what I mean to do. Let him
disregard it at his peril; if he does, I'll shoot him as I would shoot a
dog."
The very ferocity of the threat, its extreme nature, disarmed Miss
Turner's belief in it. She smiled up in the speaker's face and shook
her head, but was content to let the subject pass away in silence.
Adam Andinnian, totally forgetting his mother's message, began
talking of pleasanter things.
"Nothing in the town," replied Mrs. Andinnian: and, now that you
notice it, her voice was harsh too. "But you can go and ask your
brother why he keeps me waiting. He is behind the shrubbery."
Karl left his letters on the table, traversed the garden, and found
Adam with Miss Turner. They turned to wait his approach. A half
doubt, he knew not wherefore, dawned for the first time on his
mind.
"How are you this morning, Rose?" he asked, raising his hat with
the ceremony one observes to an acquaintance, rather than to an
intimate friend. "Adam, the mother seems vexed: you are keeping
her waiting, she says, and she wishes to know the reason of it."
"I forgot all about it," cried Adam. "Deuce take the thorn!"
For just at that moment he had run a thorn into his finger. Karl
began talking with Miss Turner: there was no obligation on him to
return forthwith to the house.
"Go back, will you, Karl, and tell the mother I am sorry I forgot it.
I shall be there as soon as you are."
"A genteel way of getting rid of me," thought Karl with a laugh, as
he at once turned to plunge into the wide shrubbery. "Good day to
you, Rose."
But when he was fairly beyond their sight Karl's face became
grave as a judge's. "Surely Adam is not drifting into anything serious
in that quarter!" ran his thoughts. "It would never do."
" Coming!"--and she curled her vexed lips. "He ought to come.
Who is he with, Karl?"
"With Miss Turner."
Karl had angered his mother before in his lifetime, but scarcely
ever as now. She turned livid as death, and took up the first thing
that came to her hand--a silver inkstand, kept for show, not use--
and held it as if she would hurl it at his head.
As she was putting down the inkstand, Adam came in. He saw
that something was amiss. Mrs. Andinnian spoke abruptly about the
invitation for the evening, and asked if he would go. Adam said he
could go, and she left the room to give, herself, a verbal answer to
the waiting servant.
"The mother was vexed at your staying with Rose Turner, instead
of coming in. It was nonsense, she said, to be idling about with a
senseless child. I--unfortunately, but quite unintentionally--added to
her anger by remarking that I supposed it was nonsense, for she,
Miss Turner, would scarcely be suitable for a Lady Andinnian."
"Just attend to your own affairs," growled Adam. "Keep yourself in
your place."
Karl looked up with his sweet smile; answering with his frank and
gentle voice. The smile and the voice acted like oil on the troubled
waters.
Adam did know it, and their hands met in true affection. Few
brothers loved each other as did Adam and Karl Andinnian. Seeing
them together thus, they were undoubtedly two fine young men--as
their sailor father had once observed to his brother. But Karl, with his
nameless air of innate goodness and refinement, looked the greater
gentleman.
CHAPTER II.
Lucy Cleeve
Lingering under the light of the sweet May moon, arm within arm,
their voices hushed, their tread slow, went two individuals, whom
few, looking upon them, could have failed to mistake for anything
but lovers. Lovers they were, in heart, in mind, in thought: with as
pure and passionate and ardent a love as ever was felt on this earth.
And yet, no word, to tell of it, had ever been spoken between them.
It was one of those cases where love, all unpremeditated, had
grown up, swiftly, surely, silently. Had either of them known that
they were drifting into it, they might have had sufficient prudence to
separate forthwith, before the danger grew into certainty. For he,
the obscure and nearly portionless young soldier, had the sense to
see that he would be regarded as no fit match for the daughter of
Colonel and the Honourable Mrs. Cleeve; both of high lineage and
inordinately proud of it into the bargain; and she, Lucy Cleeve, knew
that, for all her good descent, she was nearly portionless too, and
that her future husband, whomsoever he might turn out to be, must
possess a vast deal more of this world's goods than did Lieutenant
Andinnian. Ay, and of family also. But, there it was: they had drifted
into this mutual love unconsciously: each knew that it was for all
time: and that, in comparison, "family" and "goods" were to them as
nothing.
"She came to-day. I hardly knew her. Her hair is all put on the top
of her head: and--and--"
"Yes, now Theresa's here. Mamma would not have liked to send
me without some one from home: and the weather is scarcely hot
enough for herself to venture. Do--you--go" she asked timidly.
"Yes."
A novel writer has to tell secrets: not always pleasant ones. In this
case, it must be disclosed that the one secret wish of Theresa
Blake's life, to which her whole energies (in a lady-like way) were
directed, was--to get married, and to marry well. If we could see
into the hearts of some other young ladies, especially when they
have left the bloom of youth behind, we might find them filled with
the same ardent longing. Hitherto Miss Blake's hopes had not been
realized. She was not foolish enough to marry downright unwisely:
and nothing eligible had come in her way. Considering that she was
so very sensible a young woman--for good common sense was what
Miss Blake prided herself
upon--it was very simple of her to take up the notion she did--that
the attractive young lieutenant's frequent visits to the rectory were
made for her sake. She fell over head and ears in love with him: she
thought that his attentions (ordinary attentions in truth, and paid to
her as the only young lady of a house where the other inmates were
aged) spoke plainly of his love for her. Of what are called "flirtations"
Theresa Blake had had enough, and to spare: but of true love she
had hitherto known nothing. She ignored the difference in their
years--for there was a difference--and she waited for the time when
the young officer should speak out: her income joined to his and his
pay, would make what she thought they could live very comfortably
upon. Love softens difficulties as does nothing else in life; before she
knew Karl Andinnian, Miss Blake would have scorned the notion of
taking any man who could not have offered her a settlement of a
thousand pounds a year at least.
But now--what was Karl Andinnian's share in all this? Simply none.
He had no more notion that the young lady was in love with him
than that old Mrs. Blake was. If Miss Blake did not see the years she
had come to, he did; and would nearly as soon, so far as age went,
have offered to marry his mother. To a young man of twenty-six, a
woman of thirty-four looks quite old. And so, in this
misapprehension--the one finding fresh food for her hopes day by
day, the other at ease in his utter unconsciousness--the summer and
autumn had passed. At the close of autumn Miss Blake departed
with some friends for the Continent, more particularly to visit Paris
and Rome. But that it was a
long-since-made engagement, and also that she had so wished to
see those renowned places, she would not have torn herself away
from the locality that contained Mr. Andinnian.
There they were, pacing together the rectory garden under the
warm May moonlight. The rector had been called to a sick
parishioner, and they had strolled out with him to the gate. Mrs.
Blake, confined to her sofa, was unsuspicious as the day. Lucy,
twenty 'years of age, was looked upon by her as a child still: and the
old are apt to forget the sweet beguilements of their own long-past
youth, and that the young of the present day can be drifting into the
same.
"It is very pleasant; quite warm," spoke Mr. Andinnian. "Would you
like another turn, Lucy?"
She took it; the darkness affording the plea; and the night hid the
blushes on her transparent cheeks. They were half-way down the
walk, and Karl was bending his head to speak to her; his tones low,
though their subject was nothing more than the projected party for
the morrow; when some one who had approached the gate from the
road, stood still there to look at them.
It was Miss Blake. She had that day returned from her continental
excursion, and taken up her abode, as arranged, at Colonel Cleeve's.
Whether at the rectory or at Colonel Cleeve's, Miss Blake paid at the
rate of one hundred a year for the accommodation; and then, as she
said, she was independent. It was a private arrangement, one that
she insisted on. Her sojourn abroad had not tended to cool one whit
of her love for Mr. Andinnian; the absence had rather augmented it.
She had come home with all her pulses bounding and her heart
glowing at the prospect of seeing him again.
But--she saw him with some one else. The moon was out again in
all her silvery brightness, and Miss Blake had keen eyes. She saw
one on his arm, to whom he seemed to be whispering, to whose
face his own was bent; one younger and fairer than she--Lucy
Cleeve. A certain possibility of what it might mean darted through
her mind with a freezing horror that caused her to shiver. But only
for a moment. She drove it away as absurd--and opened, the gate
with a sharp click. They turned at the sound of her footsteps and
loosed arms. Mr. Andinnian doffed his hat in salutation, and held out
his hand.
"Miss Blake!"
"I came with old John to fetch you, Lucy, wishing to see dear Mrs.
Blake," she carelessly said in explanation, letting her hand lie in
Karl's, as they turned to the house. "And it is a lovely night."
Coming into the light of the sitting-room you could see what Miss
Blake was like--and Lucy, also, for that matter. Miss Blake was tall,
upright; and; if there was a fault in her exceedingly well-made
figure, it was that it was too thin. Her features and complexion
were very good, her eyes were watchful and had a green tinge; and
the hair originally red, had been converted into a kind of auburn that
had more than one shade of colour on it. Altogether, Miss Blake was
nice-looking; and she invariably dressed well, in the height of any
fashion that might prevail. What with her well-preserved face, her
large quantity of youthful hair, and her natty attire, she had an idea
that she looked years and years less than her real age; as in fact she
did.
And Lucy? Lucy was a gentle girl with a soft, sweet face; a face of
intellect, and goodness, and sensibility. Her refined features were of
the highest type; her clear eyes were of a remarkably light brown,
the long eyelashes and the hair somewhat darker. By the side of the
upright and always self-possessed Miss Blake--I had almost written
self-asserting--she looked a timid shrinking child. What with Miss
Blake's natural height and the unnatural pyramid of hair on the top
of her head, Lucy appeared short. But Lucy was not below the
middle height of women.
Miss Blake did see. Saw what, to her jealous eyes--ay, and to her
cool ones; was proof positive. Lieutenant Andinnian and Miss Lucy
Cleeve were lost in love the one for the other. In her conscientious
desire to do her duty--and she did hope and believe that no other
motive or passion prompted the step--Miss Blake, looking upon
herself as a sort of guardian over Lucy's interests, disclosed her
suspicions to Mrs. Cleeve. What would be a suitable match for
herself, might be entirely unsuitable for Lucy.
Colonel Augustus and the Honourable Mrs. Cleeve were very
excellent people, as people go: their one prominent characteristic--
perhaps some would rather call it failing--being family pride. Colonel
Cleeve could claim relationship, near or remote, with three lords and
a Scotch duke: Mrs. Cleeve was a peer's daughter. Their only son
was in India with his regiment: their only daughter, introduced and
presented but the last year, was intended to make a good marriage,
both as regards rank and wealth. They knew what a charming girl
she was, and they believed she could not fail to be sought. One
gentleman, indeed, had asked for her in London; that is, had
solicited of the Colonel the permission to ask for her. He was a
banker's son. Colonel Cleeve thanked him with courtesy, but said
that his daughter must not marry beneath her own rank: he and her
mother hoped she would be a peeress. It may therefore be judged
what was the consternation caused, when Miss Blake dropped a hint
of her observations.
The young man was just coming in from a full-dress parade when
the note arrived. It was a peremptory one. He walked up at once,
not staying to put off his regimentals. Colonel Cleeve, looking the
thorough gentleman he was, and wearing his customary blue frock-
coat with a white cambric frill at his breast, met him at the door of
his library. He was short and slight, and had mild blue eyes. His
white hair was cut nearly close, and his forehead and head were so
fair that at first sight it gave him the appearance of being powdered.
The servant closed the door upon them.
That Karl Andinnian was, as the phrase runs, "taken to" by the
plain questioning of the Colonel cannot be denied. It was plunged
into without preface. "Is it true that there is an attachment between
you and my daughter? Is it true, sir, that you have been making love
to her?"
For a short while Karl was silent. The Colonel saw his
embarrassment. It was only the momentary embarrassment of
surprise, and, perhaps, of vexation: but Karl, guileless and strictly
honourable, never thought of not meeting the matter with perfect
truth.
Colonel Cleeve felt confounded. He would have called this the very
height of impudence, but the young man standing before him was
so indisputably refined, so modest, and spoke as though he were
grieved to the heart.
"Well, sir, what excuse have you to make for this behaviour? Do
you see its folly?"
"I see it now. I see it for the first time, Colonel Cleeve.
For--I--suppose--you will not let me aspire to win her?"
"What do you think, yourself, about it?" sharply asked the Colonel.
"Do you consider yourself a suitable match for Miss Cleeve? In any
way? In any way, Mr. Andinnian?"
testbankdeal.com