“I want to speak to you,” Mr. Babington said. “Will you jump up and come with me along the road, or will you offer me your hospitality and a bit of dinner? There is full moon to-night and I don’t mind being late. Oh, if it’s not convenient, never mind.” Edward’s pride had made him hesitate--his good breeding came to his aid, showing it to be inevitable that he should obey the hungry longing of his heart. “Certainly it is convenient, and I am too glad--drive on to my house, and I shall be with you in a moment.” Though he had felt it to be his only salvation to hold fast by his profession and present tenor of existence, Langton’s heart beat loud as he hurried on. Now, he said to himself, he should know what it meant, now he should have some light thrown upon the position at least which Winifred had assumed. Mr. Babington, however, ate his dinner, which was simple and not over-abundant, having been prepared for the doctor alone, with steady composure, and it was only when the meal was over that he opened out. Langton had apologised, as was inevitable, for the simple fare. “Don’t say a word,” said the lawyer, with a wave of his hand. “It was all excellent, and I’m glad to see you’ve such a good cook. You don’t know what a comfort it is to come out of a confused house like _that_, with lengthy fine dinners that nobody understands, to a comfortable chop which a man can enjoy and which it is a pleasure to see.” “Bedloe was not a confused house in former days,” said Langton, with a feeling that Winifred’s credit was somehow assailed. “Ah, nothing is as it was in former days,” said Mr. Babington, shaking his head; “everything is topsy-turvy now. I suppose you know all about the last turn the affair has taken. I wonder you were not there, though, to support poor Miss Winifred, poor thing, who has had a great deal to go through.” “You will be surprised,” said Langton, forcing a somewhat pale smile, “if I tell you that I don’t know anything about it. Miss Chester preferred that the question between her brothers and herself should be settled among themselves. And perhaps she was right.” “My dear Langton,” said Mr. Babington, laying his hand on the young man’s arm, “I hope there’s no coolness on this account between that poor girl and you?” “I see no reason why she should be called a poor girl,” Langton said quickly. “Ah, well, you have not seen her then during the last two or three days. Poor thing! between making the best of these fellows, and struggling to keep up a show of following her father’s directions--between acting false and meaning true”-- “Mr. Babington,” said Langton, with a dryness in his throat, “unhappily, as you say, there has been--no coolness, thank Heaven--but a little--a momentary silence between Miss Chester and me. Perhaps I have been to blame. I thought she--Tell me what has happened, and how everything is settled, for pity’s sake!”