'She could not help it, brought into contact with such a nature as Marsden's; that fellow gives one the impression of perfect mental and bodily health. Dr. John told me it was quite refreshing to look at him.' 'Chriss amuses me, she will have it he is so noisy.' 'He has a loud laugh certainly, and his voice is not exactly low-pitched, but he is a splendid fellow. Roy keeps up a steady correspondence with him. By the bye, I have not shown you my last letter from Rome;' and Richard, who had regained his tranquillity and ordinary manner, pulled the thin, foreign-looking envelope from his breast-pocket and entertained Mildred for the remainder of the way with an amusing account of some of Roy's Roman adventures. That night, as Richard sat alone with his father in the study, Mr. Lambert placed his hand affectionately on his son's broad shoulder with a look that was rather more scrutinising than usual. 'So the last cloud has cleared away; that is right, Cardie.' 'I do not understand you, father;' but the young man faltered a little under his father's quiet glance. 'Nay, it is for you to explain; only last night you seemed as though you had some trouble on your mind, you were anxious and absorbed, and this evening the oppression seems removed.' For a moment Richard hesitated, and the old boyish flush came to his face, and then his determination was taken. 'Father,' he said, speaking in a quick, resolute tone, and tossing back his wave of dark hair as he spoke, always a trick of his when agitated, 'there shall be no half-confidence between us; yesterday I was heavy at heart because I thought Ethel Trelawny would marry Sir Robert Ferrers; to-day I hear she has refused him and the weight is gone.' Mr. Lambert gave a low, dismayed exclamation, and his hand dropped from his son's shoulder. 'Ah, is it so, my poor boy?' he said at last, and there was no mistaking the sorrowful tone. 'Yes, it is so, father,' he returned firmly; 'you may call me a fool for my pains--I do not know, perhaps I am one--but it is too late to help it now; the mischief is of too long standing.' In spite of his very real sympathy a smile crossed his father's lips, and yet as he looked at Richard it somehow died away. Youthful as he was, barely one-and-twenty, there was a set determination, a staid manliness, in his whole mien that added five years at least to his age. Even to a disinterested eye he seemed a son of whom any father might be proud; not tall--the massive, thick-set figure seemed made for strength more than grace--but the face was pre-eminently handsome, the dark eyes beamed with intelligence, the forehead was broad and benevolent, the lips still closed with the old inflexibility, but the hard lines had relaxed: firm and dominant, yet ruled by the single eye of integral principle; there was no fear that Richard Lambert would ever overstep the boundaries of a clearly-defined right.