The household had retired to their rooms, but that gentleman was sitting up, looking over some accounts. The fact of Rupert's absence was known to him, and he experienced a grim satisfaction in reflecting that he was locked out for the night. It is impossible for me to explain to you why this should have gratified the mind of Mr. Chattaway; there are things in this world not easily accounted for, and you must be contented with the simple fact that it was so. But Mrs. Chattaway? She had gone to her chamber sick and trembling, feeling that the old trouble was about to be renewed to-night. If the lad was not allowed to come in, where could he go? where find a shelter? Could _she_ let him in, was the thought that hovered in her mind. She would, if she could accomplish it without the knowledge of her husband. And that might be practicable to-night, for he was shut up and absorbed by those accounts of his. Gently opening her dressing-room window, she watched for Rupert: watched until her heart failed her. You know how long the time seems in this sort of waiting. It appeared to her that he was never coming--as it had recently appeared to Mr. Daw, with regard to the train. The distant clocks were beginning to chime eleven when he arrived. He saw his aunt; saw the signs she made to him, and contrived to hear and understand her whispered words. "Creep round to the back-door, and I will let you in." So Rupert crept softly round; walking on the grass: and Mrs. Chattaway crept softly down the stairs without a light, undid the bolt silently, and admitted Rupert. "Thank you, dear Aunt Edith. I could not well help being late. The train----" "Not a word, not a breath!" she interrupted, in a terrified whisper. "Take off your boots, and go up to bed without noise." Rupert obeyed in silence. They stole upstairs, one after the other. Mrs. Chattaway turned into her room, and Rupert went on to his. And the master of Trevlyn Hold, bending over his account-books, knew nothing of the disobedience enacted towards him, but sat expecting and expecting to hear Rupert's ring echoing through the house. Better, far better that he had heard it! CHAPTER XXXIV THE NEXT MORNING The full light of day had not come, and the autumn night's gentle frost lingered yet upon the grass, when the master of Trevlyn Hold rose from his uneasy couch. Things were troubling him; and when the mind is uneasy, the night's rest is apt to be disturbed. That business of the mine explosion was not over, neither were its consequences to Mr. Chattaway's pocket. The old far regarding the succession, which for some days had been comparatively quiet, had broken out again in his mind, he could not tell why or wherefore; and the disobedience of Rupert, not only in remaining out too late the previous night, but in not coming in at all, angered him beyond measure. Altogether, his bed had not been an easy one, and he arose with the dawn unrefreshed.