Still Ellen felt aggrieved, foreseeing the possibility of being found out and placed in awkward positions. Oh, what fools they were, and how angry she was with both of them—with Emma for her school-girlish sentiment, and with Henry for his idiotic pride and his headstrong obstinacy! Surely the man must be mad to wish to fling away such a girl as Emma and her fortune, to say nothing of the romantic devotion that she cherished for him, little as he deserved it a devotion which Ellen imagined would have been flattering to the self-conceit of any male. It was hard on her that she should be obliged to struggle against such rank and wrong-headed stupidity, and even driven to condescend to plots and falsehoods. After all, it was not for her own benefit that she did this, or only remotely so, since she was well provided for; though it was true that, should she become involved in an immediate financial scandal, her matrimonial prospects might be affected. No, it was for the benefit of her family, the interests of which to do her justice, Ellen had more at heart than any other earthly thing, her own welfare of course excepted. Should this marriage fall through, ruin must overtake their house, and their name would be lost, in all probability never to be heard again. It seemed impossible to her that her brother should wish to reject the salvation which was so freely proffered to him; and yet, maddening as the thought might be, she could not deny that she saw signs of such a desire. Well, she would not give up the game; tired as she was of it, she would fight to the last ditch. Were she to draw back now, she felt that she should fail in her most sacred duty. As Ellen came to this determination she saw Mr. Levinger walking towards her. He was leaning on his stick, as usual, and looked particularly refined in his summer suit and grey wide-awake hat. “How do you do, Miss Graves?” he said, in his gentle voice: “I heard that you were here, but did not come out because I thought you might wish to have a chat with Emma. Where has she gone?” “I don’t know,” Ellen answered, as they shook hands. “Well, I dare say that she will be back presently. How hot it is here! Would you like to come and sit in my study till luncheon is ready?” And he led the way to a French window that opened on to the lawn. Mr. Levinger’s study was a very comfortable room, and its walls were lined with books almost to the ceiling. Books also lay about on the desk. Evidently he had risen from reading one of them, and Ellen noticed with surprise that it was Jeremy Taylor’s “Holy Living.” “How is your brother to-day?” he asked, when they were seated. Ellen reflected a moment, and determined to take advantage of the opportunity to unbosom herself. “He is doing as well as possible, thank you. Still I am anxious about him.” “Why? I thought that he was clear of all complications except the chance of a limp like mine.”