She was standing close to him now, her face livid with rage, while the blue of her eyes seemed to have faded into a dull white, as she gave vent to her real feelings. But Everard did not answer her, and as the dinner-bell just then rang for the third time, she added sneeringly, “If you are through with your abuse I’ll end the interview by asking you to take me down to dinner. No? You do not wish for any dinner? Very well, I can go alone, so I wish you good evening, advising you not to fast too long. It is not good for you. Possibly you may find some cracker and tea in Miss Hastings’ room, with which to refresh the inner man.” And sweeping him a mocking courtesy she started to leave the room, but at the door she met her sister, and stopped a moment while she said: “Ah, Agnes, here is your brother, who, I hope, will be better pleased to see you than he was to see me. If I remember rightly you were always his favorite. _Au revoir_,” and kissing the tips of her fingers to Everard, she left the room, and he heard her warbling snatches of some old love song as she ran lightly down the stairs to the dining-room, where dinner had waited nearly an hour, and where Aunt Axie stood with her face blacker than its wont, giving off little angry snorts as she removed one after another the covers of the dishes, and pronounced the contents spoiled. “Whar’s Mars’r Everard? Isn’t he comin’?” Aunt Axie asked, as Josephine showed signs of commencing her dinner alone, Mrs. Markham, who ate by rule and on time, having had tea and cold chicken, and gone. “Mr. Forrest has lost his appetite and is not coming,” Josephine replied, with the utmost indifference, and as Agnes just then appeared, the sisters began their dinner alone. But few words had passed between Agnes and Everard. She had taken his hand in hers and held it there while she looked searchingly in his face, and said: “I didn’t want to come, but she would have it so, and I thought you knew and had sent for her. Maybe I can persuade her to go back.” “No, Aggie, let her do as she likes,—I deserve it all. But don’t feel badly, Aggie. I am glad to see _you_, at any rate, and I feel better because you are here; and now go to the dinner, which has waited so long.” Agnes was not deceived in the least, and her heart was very heavy as she went down to the dining-room and took her seat by her sister, who affected to be so gay and happy, and who tried to soften old Axie by praising everything immoderately.