There was no summoning of the servants after dinner, however. Hugh’s warning had been effectual. Nor was the subject once more alluded to in Hugh’s hearing. No doubt Mr. Arnold felt that something ought to be done; but I presume he could never make up his mind what that something ought to be. Whether any reasons for not prosecuting the inquiry had occurred to him upon further reflection, I am unable to tell. One thing is certain; that from this time he ceased to behave to Hugh with that growing cordiality which he had shown him for weeks past. It was no great loss to Hugh; but he felt it; and all the more, because he could not help associating it with that look of suspicion, the remains of which were still discernible on Mr. Arnold’s face. Although he could not determine the exact direction of Mr. Arnold’s suspicions, he felt that they bore upon something associated with the crystal ring, and the story of the phantom lady. Consequently, there was little more of comfort for him at Arnstead. Mr. Arnold, however, did not reveal his change of feeling so much by neglect as by ceremony, which, sooner than anything else, builds a wall of separation between those who meet every day. For the oftener they meet, the thicker and the faster are the bricks and mortar of cold politeness, evidently avoided insults, and subjected manifestations of dislike, laid together. CHAPTER XXVIII. A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW. O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight, I wot the wild-fowls are boding day; Give me my faith and troth again, And let me fare me on my way. Sae painfully she clam the wa’, She clam the wa’ up after him; Hosen nor shoon upon her feet, She hadna time to put them on. Scotch Ballad.—Clerk Saunders.