Yes; but Cousin William had been more than a protector; he had been a companion as well, and there was something in his talk and manner neither Mrs. Grant nor Mr. Grey possessed. She was always content with what Mrs. Grant said, or what Mr. Grey said. Their words always exhausted the topic; but when he had spoken she felt led on to wonder what lay behind and beyond what he had said. She had told Mrs. Grant truly he had interested her; and although he always had spoken to her as though there could be no question of the supremacy of his will over hers, she liked that. When Mrs. Grant told her to do a certain thing, the doing of it was dry and uninteresting. When Cousin William had told her to do a thing, she always did it with the sound of his voice in her ears; or she had thought what mystery of Egypt he had before his eyes when he gave her the command; or she had tried to fathom his mind as to the manner in which he would best like to see the thing done. But now all was cold and monotonous and dull. Really the place had got so quiet of late that she found her chief delight in her old books of Egypt, and in the geography of that country, and in following on the map the overland route he had taken to Africa. CHAPTER IV. BETWEEN THE LIGHTS. The day Henry Walter Grey bade good-bye to the young baronet he went home to the Manor House in the best spirits. That latest stroke of his had proved marvellously successful. In fact, the result completely astonished him. Sir William had been civil, polite, conciliatory to him up to that last interview. During it the young man had thrown aside all reserve and rushed into his arms with enthusiasm. This young man, of whom he had stood in dread a few days ago, had been not only neutralised, but converted into a friend. And at what cost? The voluntary promise that he, Grey, would take no steps about the will until the return of the head of the house. What a transcendent joke! There was nothing like it on the stage. Nothing approaching it. He had won the young man by undertaking not to invest money already stolen and made away with! And how had he done it? Not by worrying and sneaking and shivering and anticipating all kinds of evils; not by thinking and attending to his own fears and hopes connected with matters which had been done and could not be undone. No; but by thinking of what other people might do adverse to him, and trying to out-manoeuvre them. The general who, upon hearing the enemy is advancing, does nothing but contemplate the horrors of defeat, will inevitably be defeated. It is with matters of business as with a general in the field--to provide against nothing but defeat is to ensure defeat and final disaster. To dread a disease is to open the door for its reception.