But Laura seemed to exult in it. If it had not been for the curb of Mrs. Fountain's weakness she could not have kept still at all as the evening drew on, and the roar of the water became continuously audible even in this high room. And yet every now and then it might perhaps have been thought that she was troubled or annoyed by the sound--that it prevented her from hearing something else. Mrs. Fountain did not know how to read her. Once, when they were alone, she tried to reopen the subject of the night before. But Laura would not even allow it to be approached. To-day she had the lightest, softest ways of resistance. But they were enough. Mrs. Fountain could only sigh and yield. Towards seven o'clock she began to fidget about her brother. "He certainly meant to be home for dinner," she said several times, with increasing peevishness. "I am going to have dinner here!" said Laura, smiling. "Why?" said Augustina, astonished. "Oh! let me, dear. Mr. Helbeck is sure to be late. And Sister Rosa will look after him. Teaching Fricka has made me as hungry as that!"--and she opened her hands wide, as a child measures. Augustina looked at her sadly, but said nothing. She remembered that the night before, too, Laura, would not go downstairs. The little meal went gayly. Just as it was over, and while Laura was still chattering to her stepmother as she had not chattered for months, a step was heard in the passage. "Ah! there is Alan!" cried Mrs. Fountain. The Squire came in tired and mud-stained. Even his hair shone with rain, and his clothes were wet through. "I must not come too near you," he said, standing beside the door. Mrs. Fountain bade him dress, get some dinner, and come back to her. As she spoke, she saw him peering through the shadows of the room. She too looked round. Laura was gone. "At the first sound of his step!" thought Augustina. And she wept a little, but so secretly that even Sister Rosa did not discover it. Her ambition--her poor ambition--was for herself alone. What chance had it?--alas! Never since Stephen's death surely had Augustina seen Laura shed such tears as she had shed the night before. But no words, no promises--nothing! And where, now, was any sign of it? She drew out her beads for comfort. And so, sighing and praying, she fell asleep. * * * * * After supper Helbeck was in the hall smoking. He was half abashed that he should find so much comfort in his pipe, and that he should dread so much the prospect of giving it up. His thoughts, however, were black enough--black as the windy darkness outside. A step on the stairs--at which his breath leapt. Miss Fountain, in her white evening dress, was descending. "May I speak to you, Mr. Helbeck?" He flung down his pipe and approached her. She stood a little above him on one of the lower steps; and instantly he felt that she came in gentleness.