Felix did not this time rush off to Mr. Kelly. He went to his work as usual, scarcely half-an-hour late, for the telegram had arrived early: and except that he looked pale and stern, no one would have supposed anything unusual to have occurred. It never so much as came into his mind to ask to remain away from work. Nothing could have been more distasteful than to sit still and think. The shock did not affect his health; it only caused a species of mental dizziness. Life seemed to wear vague aspect, with all its ordinary curves altered, like the changed slant of a landscape, looked upon from the position of one lying prone on a hill-side. Such disorganised glimpses came to him from time to time, through unbending attention to work; and waves of angry sorrow rose, when by sheer force of habit his mind reverted to its accustomed aim—that little future home, which Cecilia now would never need. Yet none of his accounts were wrong. A letter came from Prue next morning, containing many details. She spoke of the last meeting between the sisters, and she mentioned slightly Cecilia's agitation: but the direct message to Felix himself was through Lettice, and with that Prue would not meddle. The funeral was to be on Monday afternoon: and Dr. Bryant had telegraphed that he would be present. "Mr. Anderson of course would go also. Could he not stay at the Farm from Saturday till Tuesday or Wednesday?" "No: certainly not!" Felix decided this at once, with his unnecessary vehemence, crushing the sheet in his hand. Even for Lettice's sake, he would not be indebted to the Valentines further than was unavoidable. Things were bad enough already. If he had not feared to show disrespect to Cecilia's memory, he would have stayed away altogether. The thought of seeing Dr. Bryant would alone have been almost enough to deter him. But he knew what would be said: and a weak little pencil scrawl from Lettice implored him to go. Felix was pre-disposed to dislike the Valentines. He objected much to certain things in this letter of Prue's. What business had she to speak of Cecilia's "hope" and "trust," in terms which distinctly implied that they were new, the outcome of a recent experience? If Cecilia had not before been so ready for the great change impending, this would at once leave him where she had stood, would place him apart from her in a kind of outside category, as requiring still what Sissie had somehow found. Felix would accept no such view of the question. He "pished" over it indignantly. "A set of fanatics!" he declared, with the glib contempt of ignorance: and he flung the letter on the fire, careless that it contained a message to Mr. Kelly. He would not go in Mr. Kelly's way. Miss Valentine might write to Mr. Kelly herself, if she chose. Nor would he spend a long Sunday at the Farm, to be talked at and preached to. So he telegraphed that he would go on Monday; and he wrote a line to Lettice, making the excuse that he must wait for his mourning.