WHEN Virginia first heard the gossip that linked Anna's name with that of Dr. Stillman's, it won from her a shocked and indignant denial; but a doubt was born in her mind; it troubled her not a little the more she thought of it; and she drove at once into town determined to learn if possible the whole truth. She found Anna at home. With her was a tall, dark man, a man with a narrow receding forehead, a sallow skin, and lean jaws. With much apparent solicitude she was hovering over this visitor whom she was regaling with afternoon tea. To Virginia she introduced him as Dr. Stillman, and in a single swift glance Virginia took stock of him as she acknowledged the introduction by a curtsey, that was palpably most disquieting to the missionary; indeed, her manner was so cold and distant that the smile which had relaxed his thin lips frittered itself away in the embarrassed silence that fell upon him. He was aware that he must reckon on the antagonism of this splendid beauty; for he had been quick to recognize that the antagonism was there. It shook his sleek self-approval, and he turned to Anna,—Anna with her soft ways and pretty flatteries which made him feel strong and masterful and thoroughly at ease in her parlour, with a pleasant proprietory interest in her and in all that belonged to her;—but he was at once made to understand that in this small family crisis he was to stand alone. He had heard the phrase, a great lady, and the younger Mrs. Landray lived up to the title in a most disquieting fashion. There was a subtle claim to superiority on her part that he weakly accepted without a challenge or the wish to assert himself. Anna's quite uncommon prettiness, too, paled beside Virginia's fuller beauty, which had never been complimentary to others of her sex. Virginia, meanwhile, had been indulging in certain frigid civilities that did not exactly include the doctor, yet did not actually ignore his presence; they were sufficiently restrained, however; and he eagerly availed himself of the first opening to beat a retreat, and backed awkwardly from the room. On the steps with the house door closed at his back, he paused, and an unhealthy glow suffused his cheeks. The memory of her manner toward him rankled and hurt his pride; then he recalled Anna's soft farewells, and clapped his tall beaver on his head with an air that was almost jaunty, while his dark eyes flashed with triumph. “So that is Dr. Stillman?” said Virginia, when the door had closed on the missionary; and as this did not seem to call for a reply, Anna was silent. “I have been hearing a good deal about him.” She shot Anna a swift searching glance. “Yes,” said Anna airily, “he is very much before the public.” “I don't mean in those ways,” said Virginia. “He doesn't seem a very cheerful person,” she added. “That depends on how you take him, and I must say, Virginia, you were almost rude to the man, I never saw him so ill at ease.” “Was I? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be.”