“I know, Uncle John,” cried Sophy; “he is the gentleman who was staying at the Red Lion in the village, don’t you remember, before we left Highcourt. Rosalind knew him directly, and so did I.” “Yes,” said Rosalind, faltering a little. “You remember I met you once when he had done me a little service; that,” she said, with a sense that she was making herself his advocate, and a deprecating, conciliatory smile, “seems to be his specialty, to do people services.” “The gentleman who was at the Red Lion!” cried John Trevanion with a start. “The fellow who----” and then he stopped short and cast upon his guileless sister a look which made Mrs. Lennox tremble. “Oh, dear, dear, what have I done?” Aunt Sophy cried. “Nothing; it is of no consequence,” said he; but he got up, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, and walked about from one window to another, and stared gloomily forth, without adding any more. “But he is very nice now,” said Sophy; “he is much more nicely dressed, and I think he is handsome--rather. He is like Johnny a little. It was nice of him, don’t you think, Uncle John, to save the children? They weren’t anything to him, you know, and yet he went plunging into the water with his clothes on--for, of course, he could not stop to take off his clothes, and he couldn’t have done it either before Rosalind--and had to walk all the way home in his wet trousers, all for the sake of these little things. Everybody would not have done it,” said Sophy, with importance, speaking as one who knew human nature. “It was very nice, don’t you think, of Mr. Everard.” “Everard! Was that the name?” said Uncle John, incoherently; and he did not sit down again, but kept walking up and down the long room in a way some men have, to the great annoyance of Mrs. Lennox, who did not like to see people, as she said, roving about like wild beasts. A certain uneasiness had got into the atmosphere somehow, no one could tell why, and when the children were called out for their walk Rosalind too disappeared, with a consciousness, that wounded her and yet seemed somehow a fault in herself, that the elders would be more at ease without her presence. When they were all gone John turned upon his sister. “Sophy,” he said, “I remember how you took me to task for bringing Rivers, a man of character and talent, to the house, because his parentage was somewhat obscure. Have you ever asked yourself what your own meaning was in allowing a young adventurer, whose very character, I fear, will not bear looking into, to make himself agreeable to Rosalind?” “John!” cried Mrs. Lennox, with a sudden scream, sitting up very upright in her chair, and in her fright taking off her spectacles to see him the better. “Yes,” cried John Trevanion, “I mean what I say. He has managed to make himself agreeable to Rosalind. She takes his part already. She is troubled when he puts himself in a false position.”