Langford lies under the brow of Broadbury, looking over the tossing sea-like expanse of hill and dale. It lies at a very considerable elevation, nearly a thousand feet above the sea, and to protect it from the weather is covered with slate, as though mail-clad. Few trees stand about it affording shelter. Honor walked through the yard to the door and thrice knocked. Very tardy was the reply. Mrs. Veale opened the door, and stood holding it with one hand, barring the entrance with her body and the other hand. She was in a light cotton dress, from which the colours had been washed. Her face, her eyes, her hair had the same bleached appearance. Her eyelashes were white, overhanging faded eyes, to which they gave a blinking uncertain look. ’What do you want?’ asked the housekeeper, looking at her with surprise and with flickering eyes. ’I have come to see Mr. Langford,’ answered Honor; ’is your master at home?’ ’My _master_, oh yes!’ with a sneer, ’my master is at home—my mistress not yet. Oh no! not yet.’ ’I want to see him.’ ’You do? Come, this is sharp, quick work. You follow one on another as April on March.’ Honor did not understand her. She thought the woman was out of her mind. She made no reply, but looking firmly at her, said, ’I will go into the kitchen and sit down till your master is disengaged. Is he in the house now?’ ’You know he is, and you know who is with him.’ Honor drew her brother after her, and entered. She was too proud to give the woman words. ’What do you want? Where are you going?’ asked the housekeeper, standing aside to let Honor pass, but casting at her a look so full of malevolence, that Honor turned down her thumb in her palm instinctively to counteract the evil eye. Honor took a kitchen chair and seated herself. ’I will wait here,’ she said, ’till Mr. Langford can see me.’ Mrs. Veale stood, still holding the door, looking at her, her white face quivering, her eyes flickering. The child, startled, crept close to his sister, and clung to her. Mrs. Veale came forward, without removing her eyes from the girl. ’Take care!’ she said in a husky voice. ’Take care! you are not here yet.’ Then Honor laughed. ’Not here, Mrs. Veale? What do you mean? I am here.’ Before the housekeeper could speak again men’s voices were audible in the passage, and, to her astonishment, Honor recognised that of her father. She rose at once, and confronted him and Taverner Langford as they entered the kitchen. ’What—you here?’ exclaimed Oliver Luxmore with undisguised astonishment. ’Why, Honor, what in the world has drawn you to Langford? I did not know that you and Mrs. Veale were friends.’ ’I have come to speak to Mr. Langford,’ was her reply, spoken quietly; ’but I am glad, father, that you are here, as I should prefer to speak before you. May we go into the parlour?’ She looked at Mrs. Veale, as much as to say that she did not care to speak before witnesses.