'But when you interrupted me I was about to explain to you that I owed my legs to my shoes and stockings. Common gratitude, sir, would not allow me to treat my shoes and stockings in that way. You must know that on the coast just there you find an extraordinary quick growth of all kinds of marine creatures. Well, while I was occupied reading my book, barnacles and mussels began to settle on my boots and stockings, and when I tried to raise my feet out of the water they felt as heavy as lead; and when I succeeded, in getting them into view, they looked exactly like two spars which had been floating about the Mediterranean for a couple of years!' The door opened once more, and Osborne entered. By this time the first breakfast was over. Osborne had dressed, and now looked much brighter than he had half-an-hour before. His manner was more subdued than ever, and he spoke little during the meal. Breakfast was a long irregular meal. Some guests came down punctually at the hour appointed; some were an hour late. A few lingered at the table, and now and then there was a fresh arrival from upstairs. Osborne and his sister sat at the left-hand side of the table; Nevill and Miss Gordon at the right. Opposite Nevill sat Miss Osborne; opposite Osborne Miss Gordon. Her eyes rested in wonder upon him. What had happened to him? Look at his eyes; they were changed. They did not look at her in the old way. Their old way had been constant and tender. Now his glances were sharp, quick, abrupt. And this, too, when he had sat up all night over those wretched books. Her king, her noble lord. Her simple-hearted, great-minded master. Her lord. Strangest of all, there was in his eyes a look of question, if not reproach. What could that look mean? She had done nothing which could give cause for such a look. When they parted last night they had been most cordial. He had, in fact, been compassionately affectionate. What could have happened to him since? One would think sitting up all night would make a man dull and languid; and now, for the first time, she saw him quick, excited. Could it be he was troubled in his mind about anything? Could it be he had had an unpleasant letter that morning--some bad news? She hoped not. He had too good and noble a nature to be troubled with petty trials. It would be her pleasure and her pride to save him all worry and trouble by-and-by. What could his sister see in that Mr Nevill's talk to smile at? Kate had told her no man ever frightened her more than Mr Nevill. She was now smiling at his talk. How uncertain of their own minds women were! How could Kate Osborne smile so and enjoy the flippant gabble of that man, while her brother wore such a look?