All through that day her aunt kept regarding her with wonder, for Dora had always been a creature of impulse, and now she was like a block of marble, so hard and cold; and she more than once found herself repeating these words of Thomas Hood: “Fair is she as the dreams young poets weave— Bright eyes, and dainty lips, and tresses curly— In outward loveliness a child of Eve, But cold as nymph of Lurley!” A slight commotion in the hall attracted their attention, toward the middle of the forenoon. There were steps going back and forth, and anxious, troubled whispers; then the voices grew to muttering, and then louder, till the ladies sitting so quietly in their room could hear quite plainly what was said, and Dora instantly recognized the voice of Mr. Ellerton; the other one she did not know. “It is the strangest thing,” she heard Robert’s father say, “I ever knew the boy to do! It doesn’t seem like Robert at all! He never was a coward about anything when he was at home, and I can’t understand his showing the white feather now. Besides, the letter doesn’t read like him; it is too precise and constrained.” “But you say the writing is his?” asked the other voice. “Yes, as near as I can tell. You know I have not seen much of it for the last six years. I will show it to you; you can judge better than I, as you have probably seen more of it.” There was a rustling, as if some one was unfolding a letter, then a moment of quiet, and the strange voice again said: “It certainly looks like his hand, though perhaps a little straggling, as if written in a hurry. But I cannot understand why he should do such a dishonorable thing. As you say, it is not in the least like him. I have always had the greatest respect for him, thinking him one of the most noble and manly young men I ever met with.” “Did you have any idea of his having formed another attachment in this place?” asked Mr. Ellerton, with a deep sigh. “No; and that is what puzzles me. But there is his own word for it in black and white; and can we doubt it? I am deeply disappointed—deeply!” and the unhappy father’s sigh was echoed from the breast of the other. “It is _very_ strange; for when he left home neither coaxing nor threats would move him an inch. He was thoroughly bewitched; and I did not think he was one that would change.” “Did I understand you to say that this same young lady was present yesterday to witness his honors?” “Yes; and I must say I as deeply regret the termination of this affair as I was opposed to it in the beginning.” “May I ask the young lady’s name?” “Miss Dora Dupont——” Dora waited to hear no more, but, with flashing eyes and form drawn haughtily erect, she walked proudly to the door and threw it open, and stood confronting the astonished gentlemen.