Sophy, having read the welcome telegram two or three times, as if to assure herself of its truth, replaced it under the paper-weight, and then left the room, going into the hall. Opposite her was a broad flight of shallow steps, and these she ascended. Going a little way along a corridor, she came to a door, which she softly opened. It led to a large bedroom with a wide window, which commanded a view of the greater part of London; this was the room which Hubert always occupied when he was at Grove House. With something that was not exactly a blush, Sophy moved noiselessly from the dressing-table to the writing-table, seeing that nothing had been omitted. Everything was in its place; everything was spotless and fragrant. There was nothing to be supplied, nothing to be altered; and yet the girl looked as if she must do something. She went back to the garden, picked a single red rose, and then, going up to the second floor, she visited her own bedroom, and took out of a closet a slender glass vase. It had been presented by her to Hubert long ago; boy-like, he had forgotten it, and, indeed, it was not a very suitable present for a lad. Sophy took the neglected vase, placed the rose in it, and carried it down to her cousin’s writing-table. She was leaving the room when she heard a querulous voice calling her, and she hastened to the end of the corridor, and entered Mr. Blake’s sitting-room. He was a thin, tremulous, dried-up looking old man, who looked as if he were in a state of perpetual anxiety. ‘Is that you, Sophy?’ ‘Yes, uncle.’ ‘Has Jackson gone with the brougham to meet Hubert?’ ‘Not yet, uncle.’ ‘Not yet! Why haven’t you sent him off?’ ‘The train is not due till 5.30.’ ‘Let him go at once!’ interrupted the old man. ‘I wouldn’t have him late on any account. I wonder, Sophy, you haven’t more consideration for Hubert, when he has been so long away, than let him run the risk of finding no one to meet him at the station.’ Sophy turned away to carry out her uncle’s wishes with a half-sad, half-contemptuous smile about her lips. The afternoon was a tiresome one, but it wore itself away at last; and the carriage made its appearance. Before it had time to stop, Hubert sprang out and grasped his uncle’s hand, while he held out his left to Sophy. Then, disengaging his right hand, he placed it upon hers, and bending down, kissed her cheek. ‘What a long time you have been away!’ exclaimed old Mr. Blake, as soon as the first greetings were over. ‘We thought we should never see you again.’ ‘Well, here I am, and I don’t intend to run away in a hurry.’ ‘How changed you are! You look older, and you have let your beard grow longer. I never approved of beards. I think they give a man a coarse, common appearance.’ Hubert laughed, and busied himself in carrying various packages into the house, while Sophy glanced shyly at her cousin, at moments when she was not likely to meet his eye.