Catching her mistress's eye, the housekeeper made a slight stealthy sign. Very gracefully, and with perfect calm, the tall figure, in its sweeping velvet dress, made its way through the dispersed groups between it and the door, from which all the servants had precipitately retreated at the cessation of the music. What was wrong? Mrs. Carruthers thought. Something, she knew, must be wrong, or Ellen would not be there beckoning to her. A second gesture, still more stealthy and warning, caused her to pause when within reach of the housekeeper's whisper, without turning her head towards her. "What is it, Ellen?" "Hush! where is master? Can he see you?" "Yes, he is just beyond the screen. What is the matter?" "Turn round, and stoop; let me tie your shoe--there!" Mrs. Carruthers stood in the doorway, and bent her head, holding her foot out, and lifting her dress. Mrs. Brookes fumbled with the shoe, as she whispered rapidly: "Come as soon as you can to my room. Be careful that you are not missed. Some one is there who wants to see you." "To see me, Ellen? On such a night, and at such an hour! What is wrong? Who is there?" The old woman looked earnestly into the frightened face, bending over her, and said rather with her lips than with her voice: "Master George!" CHAPTER II. IN THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM. George Dallas had eaten but sparingly of the food which Mrs. Brookes had placed before him. He was weary and excited, and he bore the delay and the solitude of the housekeeper's room with feverish impatience. He strode up and down the room, stooping occasionally before the fire to kick at the crumbling logs, and glance at the clock, which marked how rapidly the night was waning. Half an hour, which seemed three times as much to him, had elapsed since Mis Brookes had left him. Faintly and indistinctly the sounds of the music reached him, adding to his irritation and weariness. A savage frown darkened his face, and he muttered to himself in the same tone as that of his spasmodic soliloquy in the avenue: "I wonder if she's thinking that I ought to be there too; or if I ought not, neither ought she. After all, I'm her son, and she might make a stand-up fight for me, if she would. He's fond of her, the old woman says, and proud of her, and well he may be. What's the use of it all, if she can't manage him? What fools women are! If they only could calculate at first, and take their own line from the beginning, they could manage any men. But she's afraid of him, and she lets him find it out. Well, well, it must be wretched enough for her, too. But why does she not come?" He had to wait a little longer yet, for another quarter of an hour had elapsed before Mrs. Brookes returned. "Is she coming?" he asked eagerly, when at length the pale-faced little woman gently entered the room. "Yes, she is coming. She has to wait until the first lot are gone in to supper. Then master will not miss her."