Hubert Stone's services were retained, at any rate for the present. He had had the management of the farm property and other matters for so long, that Miss Winter could not well have done without him. Neither had she any wish to dismiss him; he was an efficient steward, and she of course had no suspicion of his attachment to herself. She put him on a different footing, assigning to him a handsome salary, and decreeing that he should live away from the Hall, though a room in it would still be occupied by him as an office for his account-books and papers. It was supposed that he would take suitable apartments at Nullington; he might have had the best there; or perhaps set up a pretty home for himself with a man and maid to wait on him. Hubert did neither. To the intense surprise of the community he made an arrangement with John Tilney to enter on his spare bedroom and sitting-room--for the lodge was a commodious dwelling--and took up his abode there, Mrs. Tilney waiting on him as on any other gentleman. Hubert had to see his young mistress almost daily about one matter of business or another, but he was careful to maintain towards her a suitable reserve. Nothing could be better than his manner. It would never do to betray the smallest sign of the volcano of passion that was surging within him. Very little had been said between Ella and her aunt respecting the fright the latter got on the night of the Squire's funeral. The topic was an unpleasant one; and they ignored it by mutual consent. The only person spoken to about it was Dr. Spreckley: and it may be said that that arose from inadvertence. A week or two subsequent to the Squire's death, one of the maids, Eliza, took a sore throat; it threatened to be a bad one, and Miss Winter sent for the good old doctor. Dr. Jago's attendance at the Hall had ceased with the Squire's death. Dr. Spreckley got the message late in the day, and it was evening when he started for Heron Dyke, glad and proud enough to be once more summoned there in his medical capacity. Leaving his gig in the yard, he entered the house by the side-door, ignoring ceremony as of old, and went at once to Miss Winter. She and Mrs. Carlyon had just finished dinner, and were sitting at dessert. Hearing what was the matter the Doctor went off to see Eliza, promising to return to them and report. "It is rather severe," said he, when he came back, "but there's nothing dangerous about it. I'll come up again in the morning." "Sit down, Doctor," said Ella, "and take a glass of wine." He drew a chair to the fire; the evening was damp and chilly, and a fire had been lighted for dinner. Ella and Mrs. Carlyon turned from the table to sit with him, and they talked of this and that as he sipped the wine. "As you are here, Dr. Spreckley, I think I will ask you to give me a little medicine; an alterative, or something of that kind," observed Mrs. Carlyon presently, in a pause of the conversation. "Ah!" cried the Doctor. "What's amiss?"