'What does he want at this time of night?' he demanded, darting a suspicious glance at Ethel, whose quick ears had recognised the footsteps; her bright flush of pleasure faded away at that wrathful look; she heaved a little petulant sigh as her father left the room, closing the door sharply after him. 'It is like everything else,' she murmured. 'It used to be so pleasant his dropping in of an evening, but everything seems spoiled somehow.' 'I do not understand. I thought Dr. Heriot was so intimate here,' returned Richard, astonished and shocked at this new aspect of things. Mr. Trelawny's look of angry annoyance had not been lost on him--what had come to him? would he quarrel with them all? 'I do not understand; I have been away so long, you know,' and unconsciously his voice took its softest tone. 'There is nothing to understand,' replied Ethel, wearily; 'only papa and he are not such good friends now; they have disagreed in politics--gentlemen will, you know--and lately Dr. Heriot has vexed him by insisting on some sanitary reforms in some of the cottages. Papa hates any interference with his tenants, and it is not easy to silence Dr. Heriot when he thinks it is his duty to speak.' 'And sanitary reform is Dr. John's special hobby. Yes, I see; it is a grievous pity,' assented Richard, and then he resumed the old topic. It was not that he was unsympathising, but he could not forget the happiness of being alone with Ethel; the opportunity had come for which he had longed all last night. As he talked on calmly and rapidly his temples beat and ached with excitement. Once or twice he stole a furtive glance as she sat somewhat absently beside him. Could he venture it? would not his lips close if he essayed a subject at once so sweet and perilous? As he talked he noted every trick, every gesture; the quaint fashion of her dress, made of some soft, clinging material; it had a Huguenot sleeve, he remembered--for she had told him it was designed from a French picture--and was trimmed with old Venetian point; an oddly-shaped mosaic ring gleamed on one of her long taper fingers and was her only ornament. He had never seen her look so picturesque and yet so sweet as she did that night, but as he looked the last particle of courage seemed to desert him. Ethel listened only absently as he talked; she was straining her ears to catch some sound from the adjoining room. For once Richard's talk wearied her. How loudly the birds were chirping their good-night--would he come in and wish her good-bye as he used to do, and then linger for an hour or so over his cup of coffee? Hark! that was his voice. Was he going? And, oh! surely that was not her father's answering him. 'Hush! oh, please hush!' she exclaimed, holding out a hand as though to silence him, and moving towards the door. 'Oh, Richard, what shall we do? I knew it would come to this.'