'Negligent, indeed,' added Roland, his brow darkening. 'Yet I read your letter--or telegram was it?--to Mr. Sharpe.' 'You read my letter to--Mr. Sharpe?' 'At least that portion of it referring to your return.' 'Mr.--what's his name?--Sharpe had better act up to his cognomen while I have to do with him. I am accustomed to be obeyed.' 'Like the Centurion in the Scriptures--dear me!' 'Exactly,' said Roland, feeling that there was mockery in her tone or thoughts. 'If not?' 'We are accustomed to obedience in barracks, and enforce it. We have the guard-house to begin with.' 'An institution unknown in Earlshaugh,' said she, with a curl on her lips. 'I have a number of friends coming here to knock over the birds after the 1st--you will please to order arrangements to be made for them.' 'A houseful--I have heard from Maude.' 'Not at all--only Elliot of ours, Skene of Dunnimarle, and one or two more. My cousin Hester and Miss Drummond come too.' 'Must you do this--must I entertain them all?' said she with something like dismay. 'You? Not at all! Let them alone--they will amuse themselves as people in a country house always do. Young fellows and pleasant girls generally contrive to cut out their own amusements.' 'I see so few people now that I shall be quite scared.' 'Let Maude act hostess then,' said Roland sharply, with a tone that seemed to indicate he thought it more her place. 'Maude is but a little child in my eyes--and none can take my position in Earlshaugh!' said Mrs. Lindsay firmly and pointedly; and Roland, tired of an interview, the whole tenor of which provoked him, and in which an undefined and ill-disguised hostility to himself was manifested, looked at his watch and asked: 'Any chance of lunch, do you think?' 'Lunch?' 'Yes. When a fellow has travelled nearly forty miles in a morning, and crossed the Firth, he wants something to pick him up.' 'Lunch is past already,' said Mrs. Lindsay stiffly; 'but ring the bell, please.' She made no attempt with effusive hospitality to rise from her seat. That would have implied kindness, attention, and, more than all, it would have involved exertion; and she was contriving now to be one of those imperturbable creatures who never allow themselves to be influenced or bored; and when Roland withdrew to the familiar dining-room to partake of the meal, and where he was welcomed by jolly old Simon Funnell, his father's rubicund butler, with shining face and outstretched hands, she did not accompany him; nor did he observe, when he left her, how her pale face expressed by turns dread, defiance, hatred, and more!