He began to think after awhile that Dorothy had paid a flying visit just for a day, and had gone away again, and that consequently any hope he ever had of winning her was more remote than ever. This view received confirmation from the fact that he never heard her name mentioned. Ruth had evidently not heard that she had been in St. Goram. Apparently she had come and gone without anyone seeing her but himself--come and gone like a gleam of sunshine on a stormy day--come and gone leaving him more disconsolate than he had ever been before. For two days he kept close to his work, and never went beyond the bounds of Great St. Goram Mine. For the moment he had been checkmated, but he was not in despair. London was only a few hours away, and he had frequently to go there on business. He should meet her again some time, and if God meant him to win her he should win. It was in this hopeful spirit that he returned late from the mine. Ruth brewed a fresh pot of tea for him, and put several dainties on the table to tempt his appetite, for it had recently occurred to her that he was not looking his best. "What do you think, Ralph?" she said at length. He looked up at her with a questioning light in his eyes, but did not reply. "Dorothy Hamblyn is at the Manor." "Indeed," he said, in a tone of apparent indifference. "Who told you that?" "She has been there a fortnight!" "A fortnight?" "Dr. Barrow told William. He has been attending her." "She is ill, then?" "She has been. Caught a chill or something of the kind, and was a good deal run down to start with, but she is nearly all right again now. I wonder if she will come to see me here as she used to do at the cottage?" "Possibly." "I hope she will. It would be so nice to see her again. Her father may be a tyrant, but she is an angel." Ralph gave a short, dry laugh. "You do not seem very much interested," Ruth continued. "Why should I be?" he questioned, looking up with a smile. "I thought you used to like her very much." "Oh, well, I did for that matter. But--but that's scarcely to the point, is it?" "Well, no, perhaps it isn't. Only--only----" "Yes?" "Well, I sometimes wonder if you will ever do what William has done." "Oh, I fell in love with my sister long before he did." "Your own sister doesn't count." "She does with William--counts too much, I'm afraid. He's no eyes for anything else." "Oh, go along!" "Not till I've had my tea. Remember, I'm hungry." Then a knock came to the door, and William entered. He was still thin and pale, but there was a light in his eyes and a glow on his cheeks such as no one ever saw in the old days.