At that moment Dr. Davenal's carriage was heard coming up the side lane, Roger's head and shoulders just visible over the garden wall. Dr. Davenal gave the man a nod as he passed, as much as to say he should be out immediately, and retreated into the room. It had broken the thread of the discourse. "You came down in answer to Lady Oswald's message?" he observed. "She said she had sent for you." "Not in answer to the message. I came away before it reached London: at any rate before it reached me." "Lady Oswald's in a fine way. I suppose nothing can be done?" "Nothing at all. It is unfortunate that her grounds abut just on that part of the line." "She will never stop in the house." "You see, the worst is, that she has just entered upon the third term of her lease. She took it for seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years. I am not sure, however, that Mr. Low, under the circumstances, could oppose her depart"-- "Uncle Richard, the carriage is come round to the door. How are you, Mr. Oswald Cray?" The interruption came from the boys. Both had rushed in without any regard to noise; or rather to the avoidance of it. Mr. Oswald Cray shook hands with them, and the doctor turned to shake hands with _him_. "I have to see a patient or two tonight. A poor countrywoman's son is ill, and I promised her to go over this evening if possible. Perhaps you'll be here when I return. Bettina and the girls will give you some tea." He hurried out; and the boys after him, clamorously enough. During their holidays, Dr. Davenal could rarely get into his carriage without those two dancing attendance round it, like a bodyguard of jumping savages. Mr. Oswald Cray turned to Sara, who had risen also, and stood before her. "Just one moment, Sara, for a single question. Did _you_ fall into the misapprehension that I was growing attached to your cousin?" Her manner grew shrinkingly timid; her eyelashes were never raised from her hot cheeks. It seemed that she would have spoken, for her lips parted; but there came no sound from them. "Nay, but you must answer me," he rejoined, some agitation distinguishable in his tone. "Did you do me the injustice to suppose I had any thought of Caroline?" "No. O no." He drew a deep breath, as if the words relieved him, took her hand in his, and laid his other hand upon it, very seriously. "It was well to ask: but I did not think you could so have mistaken me. Sara! I am not an imprudent man, as I fear Mark is; I could not, in justice to the woman whom I wish to make my wife, ask her to leave her home of comfort until I can surround her with one somewhat equivalent to it. I think--I hope--that another year may accomplish this. Meanwhile--you will not misunderstand me, or the motives of my silence?" She lifted her eyes to his face to speak: they were swimming in tears: lifted them in her earnestness. "I shall never misunderstand you, Oswald."