‘You will excuse us a moment, Mr. Heywood,’ and then gave his attention to the remarks which his niece, in a low tone, made to him. It was with a kind of shock that Myles soon perceived the man’s lower limbs must be paralysed. That was what Adrienne meant when she spoke of his being unable to come to the library. That was why he was so shy and reserved, that he must be prepared for the visit of a stranger. Myles understood it all now, and, from his experience of Edmund, knew what it meant, only that this was far worse, far more of a living death than that in which Edmund lived. The writing and reporting over, Adrienne left the room. Myles and the strange-looking, corpse-like man were left alone; and now Mr. Blisset turned to him and said, still in the same cold, measured voice, ‘You rendered a very kind service to my niece last night, and I am much obliged to you.’ ‘Pray don’t mention it. No one could have sat still and seen a young lady annoyed by a fellow like Frederick Spenceley.’ ‘Spenceley--surely I have heard the name!’ ‘Very likely. His father is the richest man in Thanshope.’ ‘Oh--ah! Naturally I have heard of him then. So that was the name of the individual who insulted her?’ ‘That is his name,’ said Myles, concisely, ‘and it’s another name for a cad and a blackguard.’ ‘Oh, is it? You know something about him?’ ‘There are few people in Thanshope who don’t. He is a born ruffian--Spenceley. Some day the ruffianism will come out through the veneering, and, once out, it will never be polished over again.’ Mr. Blisset assented half-inquiringly, surveying Myles all the time from his impassive eyes, and then he said, ‘I am sorry my niece should have to go to the reading-room. She tells me that one evening more will finish what she has to do, otherwise I should not permit it. But I should think you have frightened the fellow away for a time?’ ‘Oh yes! He won’t trouble her again,’ said Myles, with contemptuous indifference, forgetting that beaten-off insects, with or without stings, have a habit of returning with blundering persistency to the attack. ‘But couldn’t she go in the daytime?’ he asked suddenly. Mr. Blisset shrugged his shoulders. ‘There is so much work to be done in the daytime,’ said he--‘correspondence, and reading, and manuscript to copy. But I spare her as much as I can. I never ask or wish her to work after she returns in the evening. The rest of her time is her own.’ ‘I should hope so!--from nine o’clock!’ thought Myles, a little surprised. ‘She must be ready to go to bed at ten, after such a day as that. I wonder at what time it begins. Why, I am better off than that.’