The door of the room was ajar. It was pushed open, more gently than might have been expected, by a tall lad, his face highly coloured by the still unsubdued flush of violent exercise. His countenance was of a milder, perhaps feebler, type than that of his sister, and his dress and manner were something between those of an assistant gentleman in a shop and a young clerk. His clothes were good enough, but not very well made or carefully kept. Rowland’s heart gave a leap, however, when this head looked in, for the boy had his mother’s eyes--kind, honest, well-meaning eyes, devoid of guile. They looked in with an inquiry in them, and then brightened up. The door opened wide, and the young man came in and went up to Rowland, holding out his hand: “If he’s from papa,” he said, a little broadly--(papaw would be nearer the sound, yet not so much as that), “he’s very welcome.” In the delightful revulsion the father felt unspeakably grateful, though there was little to call forth that sentiment. “I’ve been telling him,” said Marion, holding up her arm again in order that her bangles might drop back with a tinkle, which evidently was agreeable to her, “that we’re very disappointed that papa didn’t send for us to Ingia, and then we would have taken care of him and stopped this awful marriage, which will just be our destruction. And it would have been awful fun out there.” “You will think we’ve no business to speak of his marriage in that way. And neither we have,” said the youth. “He’s old enough to judge for himself.” “Old enough!” said Marion; “just so old that the parliament should stop people from making such fools of themselves. But there’s no fools like auld fools, as aunty says.” “I don’t go so far as that,” said Archie, with an air of impartiality, “but of course it was a great disappointment. We’ve been brought up to think everything would be ours; and then, as my aunt says, there will perhaps be a large young family, and everything spoiled for May and me.” A flush such as would not have misbecome a young lover--a glow of warmth and pleasure--came over Rowland. He scarcely noticed the boy’s reflection, for the curious shade of gratification which the last part of his speech gave him. A large young family;--not that perhaps: but the suggestion seemed to fill his veins with new life. It was at this moment that a sound was heard upon the stairs, announcing Mrs. Brown’s speedy appearance; a rustling of silk, and tinkle of ornaments, and some half-whispered remarks to the servant girl--“Ye tawpy! why did ye no show the gentleman into the drawing-room? He’s just in the parlour, and that’s not the place for visitors. When I give a ring to the bell, mind that ye’re ready wi’ the cake and wine.”