The wistful expression died in the other man’s eyes, and he forced a smile. “You think so? Perhaps she does. Mother was a good woman, God bless her memory,” he added reverently, “but a month ago”--he leaned forward, and the hands that gripped the arms of his chair trembled slightly--“a month ago I caught her looking at me; her eyes are hazel, and”--he avoided the doctor’s glance, and colored with the slow painfulness of an old man’s blush--“her eyes were just like her mother’s.” Dr. Cheyney got up abruptly and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Wake up, David,” he said sharply, “wake up--you’re dreaming.” “I haven’t breathed it to any one else, William,” Colonel Royall said, “not in eighteen years--but I’ve seen it all the time.” His old friend eyed him grimly. “And it’s frightened you?” The colonel drew a deep breath. “William,” he said, “do you know how a starving man would feel when he saw his last crust in danger?” The old doctor paced the broad veranda; beside it a tree of heaven spread its graceful limbs, every branch still double tipped with the rosy leaves of its spring budding. Before him stretched the tender green of the south lawn, shaded by the grove of horse-chestnuts; beyond he caught a distant glimpse of the river. “David,” he said uncompromisingly, “Diana has a noble heart, but--Jinny Eaton is a fool.” “I know it,” said the colonel thoughtfully, “but she’s been a mother to the girl and she loves her.” “She wants to marry her to Jacob,” snapped the doctor. “I know it,” said the colonel. “He’s not fit to tie her shoe,” retorted the doctor. “Jacob’s the slickest critter in the county, but I haven’t got any more use for him than Caleb Trench has--if he is your cousin.” The colonel looked thoughtful. “He’s very clever, William,” he protested, “and he’s very much in love.” “Fiddlesticks!” said the doctor. Colonel Royall laughed a little in spite of himself. “You love Diana, too,” he remarked. “I do,” said William Cheyney, “and I don’t believe Jacob will make her happy. But, Lord bless me, David, you and I won’t do the choosing--Miss Di will! In my opinion it won’t be Jacob Eaton, either.” Then he added briskly: “This young lawyer of ours is right about Aylett; he’s a machine man and the machine is rotten. We want Yarnall; I wish you’d come to think so, too.” Colonel Royall thought, putting the tips of his fingers together. “The truth is, the Eatons are too near to me,” he admitted quietly; “you know Jinny can’t forget that a Yarnall shot her husband, and I don’t know that I could ask it of her.” “Her husband was guilty,” said the doctor flatly. “I’m afraid he was,” admitted Colonel Royall, “though Mrs. Yarnall denied it; the jury justified Yarnall.” “I can’t forgive one man for shooting another for an unworthy woman!” said the doctor fiercely, forgetting many things. The slow red crept up to Colonel Royall’s hair. “I ought to have done it,” he said simply; “but--but I let him live to marry her.”