The convent seemed all as he had left it earlier in the afternoon, as he came in sight of it again. The high chapel roof rose clear against the reddening sky, with the bell framed in its turret distinct as if carved out of cardboard against the splendour. He was admitted instantly when he rang on the bell, but the portress seemed to look at him with a strange air of expectancy, and stood looking after him as he went across the paved court to the door of the guest-house. There was a murmur of voices in the parlour as he paused in the entry, and he wondered who was within, but as his foot rang out the sound ceased. He opened the door and went in; and then stopped bewildered. In the dim light that passed through the window stood his father and Mary Maxwell, his sister. CHAPTER V FATHER AND SON None of the three spoke for a moment. Then Mary drew her breath sharply as she saw Ralph’s face, for it had hardened during that moment into a kind of blind obstinacy which she had only seen once or twice in her life before. As he stood there he seemed to stiffen into resistance. His eyelids drooped, and little lines showed themselves suddenly at either side of his thin mouth. His father saw it too, for the hand that he had lifted entreatingly sank again, and his voice was tremulous as he spoke. “Ralph--Ralph, my son!” he said. Still the man said nothing; but stood frozen, his face half-turned to the windows. “Ralph, my son,” said the other again, “you know why we have come.” “You have come to hinder my business.” His voice was thin and metallic, as rigid as steel. “We have come to hinder a great sin against God,” said Sir James. Ralph opened his eyes wide with a sort of fury, and thrust his chin out. “She should pack a thousand times more now than before,” he said. The father’s face too deepened into strength now, and he drew himself up. “Do you know what you are doing?” he said. “I do, sir.” There was an extraordinary insolence in his voice, and Mary took a step forward. “Oh! Ralph,” she said, “at least do it like a gentleman!” Ralph turned on her sharply, and the obstinacy vanished in anger. “I will not be pushed like this,” he snarled. “What right is it of yours to come between me and my work?” Sir James made a quick imperious gesture, and his air of entreaty fell from him like a cloak. “Sit down, sir,” he said, and his voice rang strongly. “We have a right in Margaret’s affairs. We will say what we wish.” Mary glanced at him: she had never seen her father like this before as he stood in three quarter profile, rigid with decision. When she looked at Ralph again, his face had tightened once more into obstinacy. He answered Sir James with a kind of silky deference. “Of course, I will sit down, sir, and you shall say what you will.”