Our host had never liked him; Miss Churchill could not be expected to continue her favor, now that he took no pains to conceal what was the attraction for him at Rutledge; Grace had never cordially liked any one in her life, but Victor had been rather a favorite, till he had put down her sauciness, on one or two occasions, in such a manner as to make her as vehement in her dislike as her lazy nature rendered her capable of being; Ella Wynkar hated him--he laughed at her French, and never omitted an opportunity of turning her pretensions into ridicule; Ellerton had formerly been very much infatuated with the young Frenchman, who had carried all before him in society, and been so general a favorite, but Ellerton was too tempting a subject for Victor's humor, and he was very careless of his popularity; even with Phil and the captain he was growing indifferent and distant. Mrs. Churchill alone showed no change in her feeling toward him; he was only acting the part she meant him to act, and fulfilling the design she had in inviting him to accompany us. These feelings, and their causes, so apparent on a retrospective study of them, were, of course, by the restraints of good breeding, and the relative positions of all parties, studiously concealed, and only to be guessed at in unguarded moments. "You are not going to follow the dramatic corps, I hope," said Victor, with a curl of his lip, as the party moved off to the library, to look over some plays and consult about the proposed entertainment. "They would have asked me if they had wanted me, I suppose," I answered, reddening a little. "Then, is there any law to prevent our staying where we are?" he asked, throwing himself back in the deep window seat opposite me. And there we passed the live-long morning, Victor idly twisting the worsteds of my work, and idly gazing out upon the storm, or in upon my face, and idly talking in his low, rich voice, and holding me, against my will, enthralled. The portraits on the walls looked down upon us with a dumb intelligence, almost a warning sternness; the rain tried to weary us out; the old clock struck the passing hours distinctly; the sound of voices in the library, after a long while, died away, and then the party passed through the hall and into the parlor, and Josephine's voice, at the piano succeeded, and then a dance, but still we did not move. What was the spell that kept me there, I could not have told. Whatever it was, it was tightening the toils around me, and shutting me off more hopelessly than ever from all paths but the one I had almost involuntarily taken.