"Perfectly, sir," replies the old butler, with his eyes on the ground. And as I watch him, I know how perfectly indeed he understands, not only what is being said, but also what is not being said. 'Duke weary of lying, draws his hand across his forehead. "You will please let the other servants know of our movements. Although my absence may be more prolonged than I think, I shall wish them all to remain as they now are so that the house may be in readiness to receive us at any moment. But," turning his gaze for the first time fully upon Tynon and speaking very sternly, "I will have no whispering or gossiping about things that don't concern them: mind that. I leave you in charge, Tynon, and I desire that all such conduct be punished with instant dismissal. You hear?" "Yes, sir; you may be sure there shall be no gossiping or whispering going on in this house." "I hope not." Then, having noticed the quavering voice and depressed air of this old servitor, who has known him from his youth up, he adds more gently, "you may go now. I know I can trust you. I do not think I have any more directions to give you at present." Tynon bows in a shaky, dispirited way, and leaves the room. Outside in the dusk of the corridor, I can see him put his hand to his eyes. But he is staunch, and even now compels himself to turn and say, with deference and with a praiseworthy show of ignorance of what the preceding conversation may mean:--- "I hope you will excuse my mentioning it, sir, but if there is one thing beyond another that raises Mrs. Cook's irritableness, and makes her perverse towards the rest of the household, it is to hear the soup was allowed to grow cold." "All right, Tynon: Mrs. Harrison's nerves shall not be upset this evening. We will go down now," says 'Duke, with a smile--a very impoverished specimen of its kind, I must own, but still a smile. I rush into the next room--my dressing-room is off my boudoir--and having bathed my poor eyes and hastily brushed my hair and given myself a general air of prosperity make for the dining-room. On the stairs we encounter mother, looking so pale and wan, and almost terrified, that I take my hand off Marmaduke's arm and slip it round her waist. It will never do for her to present such a woful countenance to the criticism of servants. "Try to look a little more cheerful, darling," I whisper, eagerly; "it will not be for long: as it has to be gone through, let us be brave in the doing of it." She looks at me with a relieved astonishment; and truly the strength of will that bears me through this interminable evening amazes no one so much as myself. --- Hazelton down by the sea, I have gained your shelter at last. Only yesterday, Marmaduke and I finished our miserable journey here, and took a long, a last, farewell of each other.