One pleasant evening, when the chill of winter had passed away, and the few ragged trees in the square garden, washed less sooty than usual by the cold rains, were asserting that there was truth in the genial, soft breaths of air that came floating from the west, and that it really was spring, Mrs Hallam, Julia, and Sir Gordon were seated at tea in the little parlour with the window open, and the sound of the footsteps without coming in regular beats. From time to time Julia walked to the window to look out, turning her head aside to lay her cheek against the pane and gaze as far up the side of the square as she could, giving Sir Gordon a picture to watch of which he seemed never to tire, as he sat with half-closed eyes. Then the girl returned to seat herself at the piano and softly play a few notes. "That must be he," she said, suddenly, and Sir Gordon's face twitched. "No, my dear," said Mrs Hallam, quietly; "that is not his step." Sir Gordon's hair seemed to move suddenly down towards his eyebrows, and his lips tightened, so did his eyelids, as he gave a sharp glance at mother and daughter. Then his conscience gave him a twinge, and he made a brave effort to master his unpleasant thoughts. "Bayle is uncommonly late to-night, is he not?" he said. "He is late like this sometimes," said Mrs Hallam. "He works very hard amongst the people, and attends parish meetings, where there may be long discussions." "Humph, yes, so I suppose. I hope he does some good." "Some good?" cried Julia excitedly. "Oh, you don't know how much!" "And you do, I suppose," said Sir Gordon in rather a constrained tone of voice. "Oh, not a hundredth part!" cried Julia naively, "Oh, Sir Gordon, I wish you were half so good a man!" "Julia!" exclaimed Mrs Hallam. "Upon my word, young--bless my soul! I!--tut, tut!--hush! hush! Mrs Hallam." Sir Gordon began angrily, but his testiness was of a few moments' duration, and he laughed at first in a forced, half-irritable manner, then more heartily, and ended by becoming quite overcome with mirth, and wiping the tears from his eyes while mother and daughter exchanged glances. "And here have I been deferential, and treating you, Miss Julie, like a grown-up young lady, while all the time you are only one of those innocent little maidens who say unpleasant truths before elderly people." "Oh, Sir Gordon," cried Julia, colouring deeply, "I am so sorry!" "Oh, sorrow is no good after such a charge as that!" said Sir Gordon with mock severity. "So you and your mamma have determined that I am a very wicked old man, eh?" "Sir Gordon!" cried Julia, taking his hand. "Indeed, indeed, I only meant that Mr Bayle was the best and kindest of friends." "While I was the most testy, exacting, and--" "Indeed, no," cried Julia, with spirit; "and I will not have you condemn yourself. Next to Mr Bayle, mamma and I like you better than any one we know."