As she walked into the farm parlour, she encountered Hugh Owen, who looked at her through and through. ‘Well my lass,’ began Mrs Llewellyn, ‘here’s Hugh waiting for you, you see, so I’m glad you’re come. He’s been main patient, sitting here for the best part of an hour.’ ‘Well, good-night,’ said Nell, making for the door that led to her chamber. ‘Why, won’t you stop and talk to him a bit now you have come?’ remonstrated her mother. ‘I have already told Hugh that I have no time for talking to him to-night,’ replied Nell, without arresting her footsteps. ‘And you told me, also, that you were not going to leave the farm to-night, Nell,’ said the young man, with the least bit of reproach in his tone. She turned round on him with unnecessary fierceness. ‘And what is it to you if I do or not? Are you my keeper? Am I obliged to account to you for my actions? My father and mother are the only people who have any right to find fault with me, or to regulate my goings-out or comings-in, and I do not hold myself responsible to anyone else. You are taking too much upon yourself, Hugh. For the future, I shall refuse to tell you anything.’ And she flew upstairs, leaving both her mother and Hugh Owen in a state of consternation at such an unusual exhibition of temper on her part. CHAPTER VIII. Christmas was over; the Countess Dowager and the Ladies Devenish had taken their departure from Thistlemere; the weather was inclement, and a great deal of time had to be spent indoors; which made Nora often wish that she and her husband were alone. One day she expressed something of the kind to him. She said,-- ‘I thought people usually kept their country seats for the purposes of retirement, but we have never been alone since we came here.’ Ilfracombe laughed. ‘Why, my darling, what do you call us at the present moment? We couldn’t well be much more alone.’ ‘Mr Portland is here,’ replied the countess. ‘Old Jack! You don’t call him anybody, surely? He’s as much at home at Thistlemere as we are. I wish he would live here altogether. I don’t know what I shall do when he _does_ go. I shall be lost without my old chum to smoke with and talk to.’ ‘I don’t think you need anticipate any such calamity,’ said Nora, with something of her old, sharp manner. ‘Mr Portland does not appear to have the slightest intention of moving.’ ‘He _was_ thinking of it, though. He had a letter yesterday, which he said obliged him to return to town, but I persuaded him to write instead. It would be awfully dull for me if he went away, just at this time when there is nothing going on.’ ‘Complimentary to _me_,’ retorted the young countess, with a shrug. ‘Now, my darling, you know what I mean. You are all the world to me--a part of myself--but you can’t sit up till the small hours playing billiards and smoking cigars with me.’ ‘No. I draw the line at cigars, Ilfracombe.’