P.S. ’47 port A1, and two or three brands of the old aunt’s champagne exceptional, Barton says; we can sample them. Shall send this up by express, you will get it in time for the 4 train. (The above letter from Mr. Carruthers came into Evangeline’s possession later, and which she put into her journal at this place.--Editor’s note.) BRANCHES, _Friday night, November 4th._ THIS morning Mr. Carruthers had his coffee alone. Mr. Barton and I breakfasted quite early, before 9 o’clock, and just as I was calling the dogs in the hall for a run, with my outdoor things already on, Mr. Carruthers came down the great stairs with a frown on his face. “Up so early!” he said. “Are you not going to pour out my tea for me, then?” “I thought you said coffee! No, I am going out,” and I went on down the corridor, the wolf-hounds following me. “You are not a kind hostess!” he called after me. “I am not a hostess at all,” I answered back, “only a guest.” He followed me. “Then you are a very casual guest, not consulting the pleasure of your host.” I said nothing; I only looked at him over my shoulder, as I went down the marble steps--looked at him, and laughed as on the night before. He turned back into the house without a word, and I did not see him again until just before luncheon. There is something unpleasant about saying good-bye to a place, and I found I had all sorts of sensations rising in my throat at various points in my walk. However, all that is ridiculous, and must be forgotten. As I was coming round the corner of the terrace, a great gust of wind nearly blew me into Mr. Carruthers’ arms. Odious weather we are having this autumn. “Where have you been all the morning?” he said, when we had recovered ourselves a little. “I have searched for you all over the place.” “You do not know it all yet, or you would have found me,” I said, pretending to walk on. “No, you shall not go now,” he exclaimed, pacing beside me. “Why won’t you be amiable and make me feel at home.” “I do apologize if I have been unamiable,” I said, with great frankness. “Mrs. Carruthers always brought me up to have such good manners.” After that he talked to me for half an hour about the place. He seemed to have forgotten his vehemence of the night before. He asked all sorts of questions, and showed a sentiment and a delicacy I should not have expected from his hard face. I was quite sorry when the gong sounded for luncheon and we went in. I have no settled plan in my head--I seem to be drifting,--tasting for the first time some power over another human being. It gave me delicious thrills to see his eagerness when contrasted with the dry refusal of my hand only the day before. At lunch I addressed myself to Mr. Barton; he was too flattered at my attention, and continued to chatter garrulously.