Innocent stood bewildered with the sudden shock--for at the moment that Batty’s voice became audible, Frederick, with an instinctive movement, cast her off from his arm. To her who knew no wrong, who thought no evil, this movement was simply incomprehensible. He was angry, that could be the only reason; but why, or with whom? She stood turning her wandering looks towards Batty, towards the house, with its lighted windows, the moonbeams pouring over her, lighting up her raised face, with its wistful gaze. Frederick, as an expression of his feeling, tossed away the end of his cigar. “We were coming in,” he said. “Innocent, perhaps you had better go first, and let me know if I’m wanted. I am tired. Tell Amanda I have got some letters to write, office work which I was obliged to bring with me. Batty, suppose you order some coffee, and let me get to work,” he added, carelessly leading the way into the house. He left Innocent to follow as she might, and to deal with Batty as she might. He had put up with him long enough; he saw no reason for exerting himself further now. “Confound his impudence!” said Batty. “Now, Miss, come along. You’d best stay with ’Manda, if you’ll take my advice, while you are here.” “If you please,” said Innocent, with a sigh. “Oh, if _I_ please--you’d rather be with _him_, eh? Pleasanter ain’t it?” said Batty, with a grin of airy raillery. “Yes,” said simple Innocent. “I know Frederick, and I don’t know you.” A courteous instinct which she could not have explained kept her from adding that she did not like Mrs. Frederick, which was her usually unconcealed sentiment. She added quite gravely, altogether unaware that his laugh had anything to do with her, “if I am to go to Frederick’s wife, will you show me the way?” Batty led the way without another word--he was curiously impressed by her gravity, by a certain solemn simplicity about the pale creature, who stood there facing him in the moonlight impervious to his gibes. He took her to his daughter’s room, and looked in, giving Amanda a word of warning. “Keep your temper, ’Manda,” he said; I do not know that he could have explained why. This was what Amanda was little inclined to do. She assailed Innocent with a storm of questions; what had she been doing? where had she been? “I have been in the garden with Frederick,” said the girl, with that serious and quiet calm, which already had so much impressed Mrs. Frederick’s father.