* * * * * In a few minutes Helbeck came downstairs again, and stood absently before the fire on the hearth. After a while, he sat down beside it in his accustomed chair--a carved chair of black Westmoreland oak--and began to read from the book which he had been carrying in his pocket out of doors. He read with his head bent closely over the pages, because of short sight; and, as a rule, reading absorbed him so completely that he was conscious of nothing external while it lasted. To-night, however, he several times looked up to listen to the sounds overhead, unwonted sounds in this house, over which, as it often seemed to him, a quiet of centuries had settled down, like a fine dust or deposit, muffling all its steps and voices. But there was nothing muffled in the voice overhead which he caught every now and then, through an open door, escaping, eager and alive, into the silence; or in the occasional sharp bark of the dog. "Horrid little wretch!" thought Helbeck. "Denton will loathe it. Augustina should really have warned me. What shall we do if she and Denton don't get on? It will never answer if she tries meddling in the kitchen--I must tell her." Presently, however, his inner anxieties grew upon him so much that his book fell on his knee, and he lost himself in a multitude of small scruples and torments, such as beset all persons who live alone. Were all his days now to be made difficult, because he had followed his conscience, and asked his widowed sister to come and live with him? "Augustina and I could have done well enough. But this girl--well, we must put up with it--we must, Bruno!" He laid his hand as he spoke on the neck of a collie that had just lounged into the hall, and come to lay its nose upon his master's knee. Suddenly a bark from overhead made the dog start back and prick its ears. "Come here, Bruno--be quiet. You're to treat that little brute with proper contempt--do you hear? Listen to all that scuffling and talking upstairs--that's the new young woman getting her way with old Denton. Well, it won't do Denton any harm. We're put upon sometimes, too, aren't we?" And he caressed the dog, his haughty face alive with something half bitter, half humorous. At that moment the old clock in the hall struck a quarter past seven. Helbeck sprang up. "Am I to dress?" he said to himself in some perplexity. He considered for a moment or two, looking at his shabby serge suit, then sat down again resolutely. "No! She'll have to live our life. Besides, I don't know what Denton would think."