‘She said she was all right,’ was the gruff reply, as Otho fixed his eyes for a moment upon Gilbert, a little defiantly, one might almost have said. Nothing more was said about any of these topics—Balder Hall, or Michael, or Magdalen. When dinner was over, and they had gone back to the library, Gilbert settled his father with the greatest care, arranging with his own hands his easy-chair, small table, reading-lamp, and all his other requisites. ‘You won’t mind my leaving you for an hour or two?’ he asked. ‘Not at all, Gilbert. You want some air and exercise. Go and get it.’ ‘Would you like me to ask the doctor to call in?’ ‘No, no,’ was the somewhat testy reply. ‘I see him often enough, without you asking him to come.’ ‘Michael is sure to look in on his way home, but I shall most likely be back by then.—Now, Otho, if you’re ready.’ As they stepped out of the house, they became aware that a change had fallen over the weather, which had been cold. The sky was full of rack, driven rapidly across it by a strong yet soft south-west wind. The moon gleamed fitfully through the clouds, and a gush of rain was blown against their faces. ‘Halloa! Raining!’ exclaimed Gilbert. ‘Do you mind a drop of rain?’ he added, ‘or will you ride home?’ ‘Oh, I’m not afraid of a little weather,’ replied Otho. ‘Where do you want to go?’ ‘Where you have never been yet,’ said his companion. ‘Down to the Townend, as they call it. Come along. It isn’t much out of our way to Thorsgarth.’ Otho followed in a docile manner. Now that he had got what he seemed to have been aiming at, his _tête-à-tête_ with Gilbert, all traces of sullenness and impatience had vanished. Bulldogs, surly to all the world beside, are tame and obedient to their masters; and there was a good deal of the bulldog in the way in which Otho followed Gilbert about. When they had got through the busiest and most inhabited part of the town, they found themselves almost alone in a steep street, descending rapidly towards the river. As they got farther down it, the houses gradually became more bare and rough-looking; and, some of them, more and more ancient in appearance. Looking down the hill, it appeared as if the street ended in a _cul de sac_, as if there were no egress that way from Bradstane town. And the wall which appeared to shut the place in, and block up the road at that side, consisted of the frontage of two high factories. There was in reality a narrow passage between them, through which access was obtained to the river, and by means of which one arrived at an iron footbridge, ugly, but useful. This could not be perceived at the distance they now were from the mills. ‘What on earth do you want down here?’ growled Otho, between two puffs at his pipe.