The moment he entered the door of that respectable inn, he regretted having done so; for, behind the neat little bar, there sat, to his infinite surprise, the young girl whose black eyes had looked at him so reproachfully in church, and whom he had left weeping in the wood. However, he felt that he must make the best of it; and he therefore advanced, boldly and smilingly, and gave her greeting. The girl was evidently disturbed in her mind by his appearance—yet not unhappily so; she blushed prettily, and rose, with some nervousness, to fulfil his demands. And, just at the moment when, as she was bending to pour out the liquor he had ordered, and, as he lounged on the bar, his own head was necessarily somewhat close to hers, the door swung open, and Harry came in. The situation was, of course, ridiculous; for, whatever the methods of the late Dandy Chater might have been, Philip had a natural personal objection to drinking in public with his own servant. But, however he might have been disposed to resent it, the sight of the young man’s face gave him pause. It had been white when they drove together in the dog-cart; it was white now—but with a different sort of whiteness. Then, his face had borne the expression of deep emotion—of a struggle to repress something—almost of a deadly fear; now, it was set into a look of stern and ill-suppressed anger. Moreover, he made no attempt to give his master any salutation, respectful or otherwise. Desiring, at least for the sake of appearances, to assert his position, and being, at the same time, unwilling to wound the lad more than could be avoided, Philip stepped quietly up to him, and, with his back towards the girl, said, in a low voice—“I don’t desire that you should be seen here, at this hour of the day. When your duties at the Hall are ended, you can, of course, please yourself—but I can’t have you drinking here now.” The once respectful Harry looked at him steadily for a moment, and returned a remarkable answer—speaking in the same suppressed voice as his master. “I’ll please myself now, Master Dandy—and I’m not drinking. I’m here for a purpose.” The nature of the elder man was too strong to be put off, even with such a rebuff as this; his manner changed, and his voice, when he spoke again, had in it the sternness of command. “You forget yourself,” he said; “return at once to the Hall.” The young man, without changing his attitude in the least, shook his head doggedly. “No, Master Dandy,” he replied—“I’m going to stay here.” His eyes wandered, for a moment, towards the girl with the black eyes behind the little bar. “Very good. Then you understand that you leave my service from this hour. Is that clear?”