“Why singular? What is remarkable? That a man should be delayed some time on a business matter, particularly when there was no urgency to repair elsewhere?” “Nothing more common, sir; only that Mr. Cashel said positively he should be here at five. He had ordered the cob pony to be ready for him,--a sign that he was going to pay a visit at the cottage.” Linton made no reply, but his lips curled into a smile of dark and ominous meaning. “Leave me, Phillis,” said he, at length; “I shall be late with all this cumbrous finery I am to wear.” “Shall I send your man, sir?” said Phillis, slyly eying him as he spoke. “Yes--no, Phillis--not yet I 'll ring for him later.” And with these words Linton seated himself in a large chair, apparently unconscious of the other's presence. Mr. Phillis withdrew noiselessly--but not far; for after advancing a few steps along the corridor, he cautiously returned, and listened at the door. Linton sat for a few seconds, as if listening to the other's retreating footsteps; and then, noiselessly arising from his chair, he approached the door of the chamber, at which, with bent-down head, Phillis watched. With a sudden jerk of the handle Linton threw open the door, and stood before the terrified menial. “I was afraid you were ill, sir. I thought your manner was strange.” “Not half so strange as this conduct, Mr. Phillis,” said Linton, slowly, as he folded his arms composedly on his breast. “Come in.” He pointed, as he spoke, to the room; but Phillis seemed reluctant to enter, and made a gesture of excuse. “Come in, sir,” said Linton, peremptorily; and he obeyed. Linton immediately locked the door, and placed the key upon the chimney-piece; then deliberately seating himself full in front of the other, he stared at him long and fixedly. “So, sir,” said he, at length, “you have thought fit to become a spy upon my actions. Now, there is but one _amende_ you can make for such treachery,--which is, to confess frankly and openly what it is you want to know, and what small mystery is puzzling your puny intelligence, and making your nights sleepless. Tell me this candidly, and I'll answer as freely.” “I have really nothing to confess, sir. I was fearful lest you were unwell. I thought--it was mere fancy, perhaps--that you were flurried and peculiar this morning; and this impression distressed me so, that--that--”