"I'll walk along with you, doctor, at least as far as our road is one," said he, rising. "Good company makes short miles." "I came in the saddle," answered Doctor Remy, "but we can be companions as far as the gate, if you like." Nevertheless, the pair did not separate at the gate. Their conversation had become too interesting, apparently, to both; and Dick Causton continued to walk on by the side of the doctor's horse. It was late when he reached his cabin, that night. Very suggestively, too, he reeled across the threshold, and, missing the bed, deposited himself heavily on the floor. "_Tidt meder man ei did som man vil skyde_, A man does not always aim at what he means to hit,"--he muttered, resignedly, merely changing his position for a more comfortable one, and dozing off to sleep. Somewhere, on the way--or out of it--apparently, he had found a supplementary brandy bottle, and had not left it until it was as empty as the Major's. It was late, too, when Doctor Remy laid his head on his pillow, that night. And, perhaps, in all Berganton, there was no wearier nor sadder man than he. One apparently well-constructed plan had just gone to pieces in his hands, without note of warning. Another was now to be built up out of the fragments, pitilessly rejecting whatever had been an element of weakness in the first. Already, its outline had begun to shape itself dimly against his mental horizon. Yet he did not allow himself to linger upon it to-night. With the rigid self-control which he habitually exercised, he put aside disappointment, care, and hope, and soon slept as soundly as if no anxiety rested on his mind, no stain on his conscience. He was early astir. With the morning light came quickness and clearness of thought. His scheme began to look more distinct and feasible. By way of getting it in hand at once, he tapped lightly at the door of Astra's studio. He was somewhat surprised to find her before an easel, palette and brushes in hand. She smiled and blushed at his approach. "I know what you would say," she began, apologetically,--"'A Jack at all trades,' _et caetera_, but I really wanted color for _this_ subject." She pointed to her canvas. "Do you recognize it?" "I can see that those are Miss Bergan's eyes," replied Doctor Remy;--"all else is delightfully vague and suggestive." "And what eyes they are!" exclaimed Astra, admiringly,---not without a pleasant perception, too, that she had succeeded wonderfully well in putting them on canvas. Doctor Remy did not answer immediately. He was regarding the portrait with a gravity that Astra could not understand,--unless, indeed, his thoughts were elsewhere. Nevertheless, when he spoke, it was sufficiently to the point. "Yes, they are very fine eyes," said he. "And Miss Bergan is altogether very pretty,--in an uncommon style, too. It is surprising that she has remained heartfree so long."