She had asked the coachman for news of his mistress, and had been told that Mrs. Winstanley was pretty much the same. The answer was in some measure reassuring: yet Violet's spirits began to sink as she drew nearer home, and must so soon find herself face to face with the truth. There was a sadness too in that quiet evening hour; and the shadowy distances seemed full of gloom, after the dancing waves, and the gay morning light. The dusk was creeping slowly on as the carriage passed the lodge, and drove between green walls of rhododendron to the house. Captain Winstanley was smoking his cigar in the porch, leaning against the Gothic masonry, in the attitude Vixen knew so well of old. "If my mother were lying in her coffin I daresay he would be just the same," she thought bitterly. The Captain came down to open the carriage-door. Vixen's first glance at his face showed her that he looked worn and anxious. "Is mamma very ill?" she asked tremulously. "Very ill," he answered, in a low voice. "Mind, you are to do or say nothing that can agitate her. You must be quiet and cheerful. If you see a change you must take care to say nothing about it." "Why did you leave me so long in ignorance of her illness? Why did you not send for me sooner?" "Your mother has only been seriously ill within the past few days. I sent for you directly I saw any occasion for your presence," the Captain answered coldly. He now for the first time became aware of Mr. Vawdrey, who had got out of the brougham on the other side and came round to assist in the unshipment of Violet's belongings. "Good evening, Mr. Vawdrey. Where in Heaven's name did you spring from?" he inquired, with a vexed air. "I have had the honour of escorting Miss Tempest from Jersey, where I happened to be when she received your telegram." "Wasn't that rather an odd proceeding, and likely to cause scandal?" "I think not; for before people can hear that Miss Tempest and I crossed in the same boat I hope they will have heard that Miss Tempest and I are going to be married." "I see," cried the Captain, with a short laugh of exceeding bitterness; "being off with the old love you have made haste to be on with the new." "I beg your pardon. It is no new love, but a love as old as my boyhood," answered Rorie. "In one weak moment of my life I was foolish enough to let my mother choose a wife for me, though I had made my own choice, unconsciously, years before." "May I go to mamma at once?" asked Vixen.