"Does it bear any resemblance to Richard North's?" she continued, after a faint pause. "To Richard North's!" echoed the doctor, the words taking him by surprise. "No." "Are you familiar with Richard North's handwriting?" Oliver Rane paused to think, and then replied with a passing laugh. "I really believe I do not know his handwriting, madam." "Then why did you speak so confidently?" "I spoke in the impulse of the moment. Richard North, of all men, is the lest likely to do such a thing as this." The young lady, Matilda North, turned round from her book. An opera cloak of scarlet gauze was on her shoulders, as if she were cold; she drew it closer with an impatient hand. "Mamma, why do you harp upon Richard? He _couldn't_ do it; papa told you so. If Dick saw need to find fault with any one, or tell tales, he would do it openly." One angry gleam from madam's eyes as her daughter settled to her book again, and then she proceeded to close the interview. "As you profess yourself unable to give me information or to detect any clue, I will not detain you longer, Dr. Rane." He stood for a second, expecting, perhaps, that she might offer her hand. She did nothing of the sort, only bowed coldly. Matilda North took no notice of him whatever: she was content to follow her mother's teachings when they did not clash with her own inclination. Dr. Rane had ceased to marvel why he was held in disfavour by Mrs. North: to try to guess at it seemed a hopeless task. Neither could he imagine why she opposed his marriage with Bessy; for to Bessy and her interests she was utterly indifferent. As he left the drawing-room, Bessy North joined him, and they went together to the hall-door. No servant had been rung for--it was one of Mrs. North's ways of showing contempt--and they stood together outside, speaking softly. Again the tears shone in Bessy's eyes: her heart was a very tender one, and she had loved her brother dearly. "Oliver, is there any hope?" "Do not distress yourself, Bessy. I cannot tell you one way or the other." "How can I help distressing myself?" she rejoined, her hand resting quietly in both his. "It is all very well for you to be calm; a medical man meets these sad things every day. You cannot be expected to care." "Can I not?" he answered; and there was a touch of passionate emotion in the usually calm tones. "If any effort or sacrifice of mine would bring back his health and life, I would freely make it. Goodnight, Bessy." As he stooped to kiss her, quick, firm footsteps were heard approaching, and Bessy went indoors. He who came up was a rather tall and very active man, with a plain, but nevertheless an attractive face. Plain in its irregular features; attractive from its open candour and strong good sense, from the earnest, truthful look in the deep-set hazel eyes. People were given to saying that Richard North was the best man of business for miles round. It was so: and he was certainly, in mind, manners, and person, a gentleman.