A slight rustling in the branches behind caught Rivers’ attention. All his senses were very keen, and he had the power, of great advantage in his profession, of seeing and hearing without appearing to do so. He turned his eyes, but not his head, in the direction of that faint sound, and saw with great wonder the lady whom he had been watching, an almost imperceptible figure against the opaque background of the high shrubs, standing behind Hamerton. Her head was a little thrust forward in the attitude of listening, and the moon just caught her face. He was too well disciplined to suffer the cry of recognition which came to his lips to escape from them, but in spite of himself expressed his excitement in a slight movement--a start which made the rustic chair on which he was seated quiver, and displaced the gravel under his feet. Hamerton did not so much as notice that he had moved at all, but the lady’s head was drawn back, and the thick foliage behind once more moved as by a breath, and all was still. Rivers was very much absorbed in one pursuit and one idea, which made him selfish; but yet his heart was kind. He conquered his antipathy to the young fellow who was his rival, whom (on that ground) he despised, yet feared, and forced himself to ask a question, to draw him on. “What has happened to the children,” he said; “are they ill?” There was a faint breeze in the tree-tops, but none down here in the solid foliage of the great bushes; yet there was a stir in the laurel as of a bird in its nest. “They are not ill, but yet something has happened. I believe the little things have been seeing ghosts. They sent for this woman, Russell, you know--confound her--” “Why confound her?” “Oh, it’s a long story--confound her all the same! There are some women that it is very hard for a man not to wish to knock down. But I suppose they think she’s good for the children. That is all they think of, it appears to me,” Roland said, dejectedly. “The children--always the children--one cannot get in a word. And as for anything else--anything that is natural--” This moved Rivers on his own account. Sweet hope was high in his heart. It might very well be that this young fellow could not get in a word. Who could tell that the excuse of the children might not be made use of to silence an undesired suitor, to leave the way free for-- His soul melted with a delicious softness and sense of secret exultation. “Let us hope their anxiety may not last,” he said, restraining himself, keeping as well as he could the triumph out of his voice. Hamerton looked at him quickly, keenly; he felt that there was exultation--something exasperating--a tone of triumph in it.