“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Ogilvie, “I understand that; for if other people make fools of themselves it is of no particular consequence; but when it’s your own it’s a different matter. But Miss Doris, I suppose, has just taken a notion into her head, and she does not care what it costs to carry it out. Effie, now, really we must go. It is getting quite dark, the days are so short. No, I thank you, we’ll not take any tea; for Mr. Ogilvie has taken a habit of coming in for his cup of tea, and he just cannot bear us to be away. When a man takes a notion of that kind, the ladies of his family just have to give in to it. Good-bye, young ladies, good-bye. But I hope you’ll not be disappointed to find that there’s no Great Smash coming; for I don’t think that I should relish it at all if it was me.” They had a silent drive home. Effie had so many thoughts at that moment that she was always glad, when she could, to return into them. She thought no more of the Great Smash than of any other of the nonsensical utterances which it might have pleased Doris to make. Indeed, the Great Smash, even if it had been certain, would not have affected her mind much, so entirely unconscious was she what its meaning might be. She retired into her own thoughts, which were many, without having received any impression from this new subject. But it vaguely surprised her that her stepmother should be so silent. She was so accustomed to that lively monologue which served as a background to all manner of thoughts, that Effie was more or less disturbed by its failure, without knowing why. Mrs. Ogilvie scarcely said a word all the way home. It was incredible, but it was true. Her friends would scarcely have believed it--they would have perceived that matters must have been very serious indeed, before she could be reduced to such silence. But Effie was heedless, and did not ask herself what the reason was. This was the evening that Ronald had been invited “to his dinner,” an invitation which had called forth a protest from Mrs. Ogilvie; but, notwithstanding, she was very kind to Ronald. It was Effie, not she, who kept him at a distance, who avoided any conversation except the vaguest, and, indeed, sat almost silent all the evening, as if her lover being absent she had no attention to bestow upon another. That was not the real state of Effie’s mind; but a delicate instinct drew her away, and gave her a refuge in the silence which looked like indifference. Mrs. Ogilvie, however, showed no indifference to Ronald. She questioned him about his house, and with all the freedom which old family connection permitted, about the fortune which he had “come into,” about what he meant to do, and many other subjects. Ronald gave her, with much gravity, the information she asked. He told her no--that he did not mean to remain--that he was going back to his regiment. Why should he stay, there was nothing for him to do at Haythorne?