Everything, I say, seemed to go on in its old routine. Thomas Godolphin came to business; not every day, but frequently. George gave his dinner-parties, and rode as much as ever with Charlotte Pain. What Charlotte had done with her husband, was her affair. He no longer disturbed the night stillness of the Dark Plain, or of Lady Godolphin's Folly; and not a suspicion of his unwelcome revival from the dead had transpired beyond George Godolphin. Charlotte casually said one day to George that Rodolf was in London. Perhaps he was. Yes, gay as ever, in the day, was George Godolphin. If he had care, he kept it to himself, and no one saw or suspected it. George was persuadable as a child; seeing little farther than his own nose; and Mr. Verrall had contrived to lull the suspicions awakened by the words of Rodolf Pain. Mr. Verrall had not remained long at Lady Godolphin's Folly: he was soon away again, and Charlotte had it to herself, queen regnant. George had not forgotten to pay his evening visits there. There or elsewhere, he was out most evenings. And when he came in, he would go into the Bank, and remain alone in the manager's room, often for hours. One evening--it was the greatest wonder in the world--he had not gone out. At eight o'clock he had gone into the Bank and shut himself in. An hour afterwards Maria knocked, and he admitted her. George was at a large table; it was covered with account-books. Hard at work he appeared to be, making entries with his pen, by the light of his shaded lamp. "How busy you are, George!" she cried. "Ay," said he, pleasantly. "Let no one call me idle again." "But why need you do it, George? You used not to work at night." "More work falls to my score, now Thomas does not take his full share of it," observed George. "Does it? I fancied neither you nor Thomas had much actual work to do. I thought you left it to the clerks. Isaac laughed at me one day, a long time ago, when I said something about your keeping the bank accounts. He asked me what I thought clerks were paid for." "Never mind Isaac. What have you come in for? To tell me you are dull?--as you did last night." "No. But I do get to feel very dull in an evening. You are scarcely ever with me now, George." "Business must be attended to," responded George. "You should get some visitors in." "They would not be you," was Maria's answer, simply spoken. "I came to tell you now that papa is here. Have you time to come and see him?" George knitted his brow. The prospect of entertaining the Reverend Mr. Hastings did not appear to have charms for him. Not that he allowed Maria to see the frown. She continued: "Papa has been talking about the Chisholm property. The money is paid over, and he has brought it here for safety." "Brought it to-night?" echoed George. "Yes. He said it might be an unprofessional mode of doing business, but he supposed you would receive it," she added, laughing.