"Where's Arthur?" demanded madam, imperiously, as Miss Dallory came up on Richard's arm. "I thought he was with you." Miss Dallory answered that she had not seen Arthur Bohun since quitting the dinner-table. No one had seen him, as far as madam could discover. She suspected he must have gone off somewhere to smoke; and would have liked to put his pipe behind the fire. But the pipe was not in fault. Arthur Bohun, possibly thinking there were enough without him, had quietly made his escape, and gone for a stroll towards the Ham. It took him so near to Mrs. Cumberland's that he said to himself he might as well call and ask after the headache she had been suffering from in the morning. Sophistry! Nothing but sophistry. Captain Arthur Bohun did not really care whether her headache was worse or better; until a moment ago he had not even remembered that she had complained of headache. The simple truth was, that he could not bear to rest for even one evening without a glimpse of Ellen Adair. No mother ever hungered for a lost child as he hungered for her presence. They were at tea. Mrs. Cumberland, Ellen, and Mr. Seeley. When Jelly showed Captain Bohun in, the doctor was just taking his second cup. Ellen, who presided at the tea-tray, asked Captain Bohun if he would take some, and he rather shortly answered, No. Warfare lay in his mind. What business had that man to be sitting there on a footing of companionship with Ellen Adair? Mrs. Cumberland's head was a little worse, if anything, she replied, thanking Captain Bohun for his solicitude in regard to it. Mr. Seeley had given her two draughts of something--ether, she believed--in the afternoon, but they had not done her head any good. It might have come to a question as to which would sit out the other--for Mr. Seeley detected somewhat of the state of Arthur Bohun's mind, and resented it--but for the entrance of Dr. Rane. Dr. Rane appeared to have no present intention of leaving again, for he plunged into a hot discussion with his brother-practitioner, touching some difficult question in surgery, which seemed quite likely to continue all night, and Arthur Bohun rose. He would have remained willingly, but he was ever sensitive as to intruding, and fancied Mrs. Cumberland might wonder why he stayed. As he went out, Francis Dallory and his sister were passing on their walk homeward. Captain Bohun turned with them, and went to the end of the Ham. The shades of evening--nay, of night--had stolen over the earth as he went back again; the light night of summer. The north-west was bright with its opal tints; a star or two shone in the heavens. Dr. Rane was pacing his garden walks, his wife on his arm. "Goodnight, Bessy!" he called out to her, whom he had always regarded as his stepsister. "Goodnight, Arthur!" came the hearty rejoinder as Bessy recognized his voice.