“Naturally enough,” broke in Hunter, hastily. “Who would n't be disappointed under such circumstances? Better even that, however, than utter failure later on.” The doctor sighed, but over what precise calamity was not so clear; and Hunter continued,-- “Now, as I have made this communication to you in strictest confidence, and not in any concert with Conyers, I only ask you to accept the view as a mere matter of opinion. I think you would be wrong to suffer your son to engage in such a venture. That's all I mean by my interference, and I have done.” Dill was, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the sudden summing up of the Colonel, and looked strangely puzzled and embarrassed. “Might I talk the matter over with my daughter Polly? She has a good head for one so little versed in the world.” “By all means. It is exactly what I would have proposed. Or, better still, shall I repeat what I have just told you?” “Do so,” said the doctor, “for I just remember Miss Barrington will call here in a few moments for that medicine I have ordered for her brother, and which is not yet made up.” “Give me five minutes of your time and attention, Miss Dill,” said Hunter, “on a point for which your father has referred me to your counsel.” “To mine?” “Yes,” said he, smiling at her astonishment. “We want your quick faculties to come to the aid of our slow ones. And here's the case.” And in a few sentences he put the matter before her, as he had done to her father. While he thus talked, they had strolled out into the garden, and walked slowly side by side down one of the alleys. “Poor Tom!--poor fellow!” was all that Polly said, as she listened; but once or twice her handkerchief was raised to her eyes, and her chest heaved heavily. “I am heartily sorry for him--that is, if his heart be bent on it--if he really should have built upon the scheme already.” “Of course he has, sir. You don't suppose that in such lives as ours these are common incidents? If we chance upon a treasure, or fancy that we have, once in a whole existence, it is great fortune.” “It was a brief, a very brief acquaintance,--a few hours, I believe. The--What was that? Did you hear any one cough there?” “No, sir; we are quite alone. There is no one in the garden but ourselves.” “So that, as I was saying, the project could scarcely have taken a very deep root, and--and--in fact, better the first annoyance than a mistake that should give its color to a whole lifetime. I'm certain I heard a step in that walk yonder.” “No, sir; we are all alone.” “I half wish I had never come on this same errand. I have done an ungracious thing, evidently very ill, and with the usual fate of those who say disagreeable things, I am involved in the disgrace I came to avert.” “But I accept your view.” “There! I knew there was some one there!” said Hunter, springing across a bed and coming suddenly to the side of M'Cormick, who was affecting to be making a nosegay.