"Ah! You mean you put the screw on him? I'm glad your plot seems to have failed." "So am I," said Robert. "I'll confess that I was disappointed at first and suspected Wannop of interfering. As you know, he's lax in his views." "It's unfortunate the laxity you complain of isn't more common." Andrew broke into a smile. "No doubt Wannop was too clever for you; but I don't bear you any grudge. I believe you meant well, and good intentions seem to excuse a good deal of harshness." "I did what I thought was my duty," Robert said with dignity, and moved away. Shortly afterward Andrew entered the drawing-room, where he was surprised to see Robert talking to Mrs. Olcott. The clergyman looked unusually solemn and Mrs. Olcott's expression was resigned. Hilda, joining her brother, glanced toward the other two. "Isn't he amusing?" she said with a soft laugh. "He's doing penance and feeling as awkward as he deserves. No doubt Mrs. Olcott feels horribly bored." "What do you know about the matter?" Andrew asked sharply. "More than you think. Robert believes he's making full amends by countenancing Mrs. Olcott as he's doing. After this, of course, nobody need fight shy of her." Andrew knew that reproof would be useless; Hilda would laugh at him. "Well," he said, "I've a higher opinion of Robert now than I've had for some time." "He's pompous and silly," Hilda declared. "Sometimes I feel sorry for him, sometimes he makes me positively wicked; but after all he has his good points. For one thing, he's not afraid." She went away when Andrew joined his elder sisters, and the evening passed pleasantly. When the party broke up Andrew strolled out to the terrace and leaned on the low wall. There was no moon, but the night was clear and mild. Bare trees rose in shadowy masses across the dark stretch of lawn; the ghyll beyond it was filled with mist, out of which there rose the gurgle of running water. In the distance a ridge of moor cut darkly against the sky. The lights in the house went out one by one; the stillness was soothing and Andrew became lost in thought. He knew and loved every wood and field in the dim countryside he looked out upon. He had spent happy, healthful days on the purple moors when the grouse came flitting across the heather; among the turnips and yellow stubble in the valley where the partridge coveys lay; and by deep pools in the ghyll where the silver sea-trout gleamed through the brown peat water. It was a harmless life he had led there, but he felt that it had been a wasted one. Its peaceful sounds had dulled his ears to the clamor of the busy world where the work he had neglected badly needed doing. He was not a prig and felt no call to be a general reformer, but the Allinson honor was tainted and it was his business to remove the stain. He might fail, but he must concentrate upon the task all the power he possessed.