"It is quite uncertain, Ethel. If things turn out as--as they ought to turn, I should then settle in England. Probably somewhere in this neighbourhood." Their eyes met: Ethel looking up, he down. With the yearning love, that sat in each gaze, was mingled an expression of deep sadness. "Circumstances at present are so very doubtful," resumed Mr. North. "They may turn out well; or very ill----" "Very ill!" involuntarily interrupted Ethel. "Yes, they may." The answer was given in a marked, decisive tone. For the doubt that ran through his mind--that had run through it much lately--was this: If it should indeed prove that the Master of Greylands had dealt ill with Anthony, George North could scarcely bring himself to marry one so closely connected with Greylands' Rest as Ethel. "And--in that case?" she continued after a pause, during which he seemed to have been lost in thought. "In that case? Oh, I should become a wandering Arab again roaming the world at large." "And settle eventually in France?" "Very likely--if I settled anywhere. It is all so uncertain, Ethel, that I scarcely like to glance at it. I may hold property in England some time: and that might necessitate my living on it." "Do you mean an estate? Such as this?" "Yes, such as this," he answered with a passing, curious smile. "Meanwhile I am so happy in the present time, in my idle life--transferring some of the beauties of your country to enrich my portfolio, with the hospitable Dolphin roof over my head, and the grand, ever-moving sea before me like a glorious panorama--that I fear I am too willing to forget the future care which may come." Not another word did either speak: the silence, with its pleasure and its pain, was all too eloquent. The sketch-book was held between them still: and, in turning over its pages to look at former sketches, their hands could not help--or, rather, did not help--coming in contact. What bliss it was! "Why, you are quite in the dark, my dear! Why--dear me! who is it?" They turned at the voice--that of Madame Guise. She had just left Miss Flora. "Not in the dark, but in the moonlight," said Mr. North, holding out his hand. "I did not know that you were here," she answered. "It is late." "Very late: I hope you will forgive me. But I have been here some little time. I was taking a sketch by moonlight not far off, and came on, Madame Guise, to say Bon jour, thinking you were alone." "It is Bon soir, I think," returned Madame, with a pleasant laugh, as she rang for lights. "Will you take a chair?" "Thank you no," he replied, putting the sketch-book into the portfolio. "I will take my departure instead, and call again to-morrow at a more seasonable hour. Goodnight to you Miss Ethel." Ethel put her hand into his and returned the goodnight in a low tone. When he should have left, the sunshine of the evening would have left with him. Madame Guise, as she often did, stepped across the threshold to walk to the gate with him.