“His way of talking about her—the expression of his face when he pronounces her name—the questions he asked me about her, showing the keenest interest in even the silliest details. What kind of a girl was she before she married, and how long had she known Sir Godfrey before they were engaged, and had their love been a grand passion full of romance and poetry, or only a humdrum kind of affection encouraged by their mutual relations? Idiotic questions of that kind could only be asked by a man who was in love. And then how eagerly he snapped at your suggestion that he should go with you to the Priory next Sunday.” “It may be as you think,” Theodore answered gravely. “I know his fervid temperament about most things; but I did not think he was the kind of man to fall in love—upon such very slight provocation.” “She may have given more encouragement than you suppose,” said Sophy. “He is the kind of man that a frivolous, half-educated girl would think attractive. _She_ would never find out the want of depth under that arrogant, self-assured manner. However, she has asked Janet and me for next Sunday, and I shall soon see how the land lies. You were always unobservant.” Theodore did not try to vindicate his character as an observer, albeit he knew no look or tone of his cousin’s was likely to escape him; that even sharp-eyed malevolence could never watch her more closely than love would watch out of his eyes. Yes; it was not unlikely that Cuthbert admired her too much for his own peace. He recalled words which had passed unnoticed when they were together. Poor Cuthbert! He felt he had done wrong in exposing his friend to such an ordeal. Who could know her and not love her? CHAPTER XXVIII. “For life must life, and blood must blood repay.” Cuthbert Ramsay arrived at Dorchester on Saturday just in time to dress for dinner, and he contrived to make himself so agreeable to all the family in the course of that friendly meal, that Janet and Sophia forgave him for his base desertion, and Harrington forgave him for being a great deal cleverer and happier than himself. He was in very high spirits—had been working hard in London—attending lectures—witnessing operations—and looking after those gratis patients in the slums who were his chief delight. “I love to find out what life means below the surface,” he said. “One only gets at realities when one comes face to face with the struggle for existence. The children—the poor pinched atomies whom one looks at with a shudder, remembering that _they_ are the men and women of the future! That is the terrible point—to think that in those little half-starved faces one sees the men who are to meet in Trafalgar Square and unmake our smooth, easy world—to think that in those wizened morsels of humanity we have all the elements of discord and destruction in the days to come. _That_ is the appalling thought.” “It is a thought that should teach us our duty to them,” said Janet.