In Mrs Barclay's all meals were served in the dining-room, and it was customary for the ladies to retire to the drawing-room after breakfast, dinner, or tea. At tea that evening nothing was spoken of but the most general subjects. Marie and Kate did not speak beyond the words necessary in reply to commonplace questions from commonplace people. Mrs Barclay rallied Osborne on his recent irregular behaviour, and cautioned him that no doubt such vagaries might be expected from a bachelor, but very different conduct would be exacted from a married man. At this there was a general smile, and a sly look from his to Marie's face. All else that passed at the table was of the most ordinary and every-day character. Tea took forty minutes, and at about a quarter to seven the ladies retired to the drawing-room. Between seven and eleven was the quietest time of the day at Mrs Barclay's, for men and women staying at the house went out between those hours, either to theatres or other places of amusement, or to visit friends whom their business occupations in the day prevented them calling upon. When George Osborne entered the drawing-room he found no one in it but Marie and Kate. He felt refreshed and brightened by the meal. Tea always had an exquisitely cheering effect upon him. He walked first to Marie, took her gently by the hand, and said,-- 'I was not able to explain to you--do not move, Kate; what I am saying is intended for both of you--I was not able to explain what must have seemed extraordinary in my conduct during the past few days. I cannot yet tell you explicitly what it is, but in a few days I hope to be able to satisfy you. Both must have faith in me till then. You must believe that I have got a terrible shock, with which neither of you has anything to do. I am at present in a state of great mental anxiety, and you must try to be indulgent to me. No matter how odd I may seem to you, I ask you not to judge me hastily. Give me time, and I will tell you both all. Give me time. Will you, Marie--a few days?' 'Yes.' 'Will you Kate--a few days?' 'Yes.' The two girls were more terrified by this quiet, collected confession of trouble than by the most erratic thing he had yet done. Marie thought, 'Oh, my George, my love, my noble, simple-hearted gentleman, why will you not tell your Marie what troubles you? Why will you not let her share your anxiety? She would bear all the anxiety of this world rather than not share his secret pain. Oh, my love, why are you so white? What will become of me if anything happen to my love--if anything happen to thee--if anything happen to my love?' Kate was too terrified to think; she only prayed--prayed against evil to him, against evil to any of them. The affair between Nevill and herself could not have caused any such dreadful result as this. He spoke again,--