With these words he suddenly became--not exactly cross--but reserved and ungracious. His mother's words had betrayed her. As soon as she remarked on the frequency of his visits to Sheffield, he knew that she was aware of the facts that she had positively asserted she would not name, and he divined her intention to put him in the position of one who confesses a fault or acknowledges a weakness. He retired immediately into the fortress of his manly superiority. He was not going to be put to catechism by a cabal of women, so he hastily finished his lunch and rose from the table. "When will you return, Robert?" asked his mother. "In a few days. You had better give liberally to the church collection to-morrow--paper or gold--silver from you will be remarked on." He opened the door to these words, and, turning a moment, said "good-bye" with a glance which included every one in the room. Silence followed his exit. Mrs. Campbell cut her veal chop into minute strips, which she did not intend to eat; Isabel crumbled her bread on her plate, lifted her scornful eyes a moment, and then began to fold her napkin; Christina took the opportunity to help herself to another tartlet. It was an uncomfortable pause, not to be relieved until Mrs. Campbell chose to speak or rise. She continued the purposeless cutting of her food, until Isabel's patience was worn out, and she asked: "Shall I ring the bell, mother?" "No, I have not finished my lunch; you can safely bide my time. Christina, pass me a tart." "Take two, mother. McNab makes them smaller every day. There is only a mouthful in two of them." Mrs. Campbell took no notice of the criticism. "Isabel," she said, "what do you think of Robert's behavior?" "Do you mean the sudden change in his manner?" "Yes." "He had his own 'because' for it. I do not rightly comprehend what it could be, unless he suspected from your remark that you had seen the Bible, and were trying to lure him on to talk of Theodora." "That is uncommonly likely, but I'm not caring if he did." "Robert is very shrewd, and he sees through people as if they were made of glass." "If he is going to marry the girl, why should he object to tell us about her? Is she too good to talk about? Such perfect unreasonableness!" "He wished to tell us in his own time, and way, and thought a plot had been laid to force his confidence. Robert Campbell is a very suspicious man. He has a bad temper too. It is always near at hand, and short as a cat's hair. And he hates a scene." "So do I. Goodness knows, I have always lifted myself above the ordinary of quarrelling and disputing. Not so, Robert. He investigates the outs and the ins of everything, and argues and argues about the most trifling matter; but I must say, he is always in the wrong. And he can keep his confidence as long as he wants to--the longer the better. I shall never give him another opportunity." "It is a pity you offered him one this morning, mother."