He even grew to find luncheon and Miss Monro not unpleasant varieties to his monotonous _tete-a-tetes_. Then came the walk, generally to the town to fetch Mr. Wilkins from his office; and once or twice it was pretty evident how he had been employing his hours. One day in particular his walk was so unsteady and his speech so thick, that Ralph could only wonder how it was that Ellinor did not perceive the cause; but she was too openly anxious about the headache of which her father complained to have been at all aware of the previous self-indulgence which must have brought it on. This very afternoon, as ill-luck would have it, the Duke of Hinton and a gentleman whom Ralph had met in town at Lord Bolton's rode by, and recognised him; saw Ralph supporting a tipsy man with such quiet friendly interest as must show all passers-by that they were previous friends. Mr. Corbet chafed and fumed inwardly all the way home after this unfortunate occurrence; he was in a thoroughly evil temper before they reached Ford Bank, but he had too much self-command to let this be very apparent. He turned into the shrubbery paths, leaving Ellinor to take her father into the quietness of his own room, there to lie down and shake off his headache. Ralph walked along, ruminating in gloomy mood as to what was to be done; how he could best extricate himself from the miserable relation in which he had placed himself by giving way to impulse. Almost before he was aware, a little hand stole within his folded arms, and Ellinor's sweet sad eyes looked into his. "I have put papa down for an hour's rest before dinner," said she. "His head seems to ache terribly." Ralph was silent and unsympathising, trying to nerve himself up to be disagreeable, but finding it difficult in the face of such sweet trust. "Do you remember our conversation last autumn, Ellinor?" he began at length. Her head sunk. They were near a garden-seat, and she quietly sat down, without speaking. "About some disgrace which you then fancied hung over you?" No answer. "Does it still hang over you?" "Yes!" she whispered, with a heavy sigh. "And your father knows this, of course?" "Yes!" again, in the same tone; and then silence. "I think it is doing him harm," at length Ralph went on, decidedly. "I am afraid it is," she said, in a low tone. "I wish you would tell me what it is," he said, a little impatiently. "I might be able to help you about it." "No! you could not," replied Ellinor. "I was sorry to my very heart to tell you what I did; I did not want help; all that is past. But I wanted to know if you thought that a person situated as I was, was justified in marrying any one ignorant of what might happen, what I do hope and trust never will."