At four o'clock refreshments were served in the schoolrooms to tenants, retainers, and so many of the neighbours of whatsoever degree as chose to partake. There were few on these occasions who did not choose to partake. It had always been a day in which high and low mingled together in the happiest possible manner. Generally the Squire was there among them, going from one to another, chatting with landowner, farmer, tradesman, cottager, exchanging kind and cordial words with each in turn, knowing everybody, forgetting nothing. To-day, for once, Katherine alone received guests, overlooked arrangements; and at half-past four he was still absent. "Rather odd, isn't it?" Mrs. Brutt said in mysterious and suggestive tones. She had by this time told a good many acquaintances—in the strictest confidence—about Doris and the young surgeon; and, as she intended, people were beginning to talk. Mrs. Brutt had come across Dick Maurice himself that morning, and had passed him with the curtest of nods. She made a good deal of capital out of this encounter. Doris, a winsome figure in white frock and shady hat, kept studiously in the background. She did not wish to come into contact with either Hamilton or Mrs. Brutt; and the latter seemed to pervade the place. Wherever the girl went, she was sure to see the agreeable widow bearing importantly down upon her. Towards five o'clock, in common with many others, she found herself in the garden, outside the west front of the house. A general impression prevailed—how or whence, nobody knew—that Mr. Stirling was about to make his appearance here; and a surging movement hitherward took place. The terrace was soon crowded; the lawn and side-walks below were full. People pressed quietly together, closing their ranks, and drawing as near as might be to the bay-window of the great library, with an air of expectation. Expectation soon to be fulfilled. Doris, having retreated to a quiet corner, glanced carelessly up—and saw something which took away her breath. Mr. Stirling had at last shown himself. He stood at the opened window, looking down upon them all—pale, haggard, weary, unlike his ordinary self. A buzz of welcome broke out at the sight, quickly checked, for he made no response; and there was that in his look which portended that something was about to happen. But it was not his face that startled and stirred Doris. It was the vision of another behind the Squire, following him closely, standing motionless when he stopped—a slim, broad-shouldered muscular man, with head well up, and clear, dark-grey eyes surveying the scene—eyes that searched till they found Doris, and rested there. Dick—with Mr. Stirling! What could have happened? The girl's heart was beating furiously.