For Violet, in startling confirmation of the last words, had suddenly rushed forward and launched herself on the neck of a young man in brown tweed, who was coming up the steps of the verandah. "Cuth, Cuth! Oh, how lovely! Oh, did you know we were here?" "I have known long enough to mitigate my alarm at your greeting. Your letters were at the post-office. Yes--here we are. How do you do, Miss Vyner?" "I shall believe in brain-waves in future," said Constancy, as she gave him her hand. "I had just recalled a conversation with you and Mr Waynflete, and I see you coming. Is he with you?" "Yes, at last. His brother thought him overworked, and very sensibly wrote to me to come and carry him off. There he is." Constancy had not seen Guy for more than nine months, her last remembrance of him was among the dancers at the Kirkton Hall garden-party, and she realised at once, as he came along the verandah, that the slight youth with his pathetic eyes had grown into a very remarkable person. "Why--he looks like a mystic, or a martyr!" she thought. "No wonder people turn and look at him. It's a startling face." Guy's greeting was, however, simple enough. He was cordial, but he smiled his little reserved smile as he said-- "Yes, it was very good of Staunton to wait for me. I couldn't get away before. When I go back, I hope Godfrey will go to Scotland and get some shooting." "And Rawdie? Is he thriving? And have you seen my aunt and Florella? Are they quite settled at Waynflete?" Guy answered appropriately, and presently took his letters, and went away to study them. He was still sitting in a quiet corner of the verandah, when Staunton, who had remained to exchange news and plans with his sisters, came in search of him. "The girls are getting coffee," he said, "and then they are going to stroll out and see the bridges. Will you come?" "Better not. I walk so slowly. I'll come and meet you." "Come now," said Cuthbert. "This trip isn't quite answering for you. What is it? You must tell me just what you like." "Well--new places and so many changing people worry me. _He_--it looks uncommonly grim and grotesque in new combinations. It spoils the look of the world. It's a little queer, you know, and tiring. I'm much stronger, really; I can do what I've got to do. But I expect that's about all. It's months since the real trouble touched me; but I think there's something more to come--some day." "Suppose we find some more out-of-the-way place, and stay there quietly. What you really want is rest." "No. I like this place, and everything is really going on well with us. Godfrey shall get out of his hole yet. Oh no, I'm not beaten. We're not going to the dogs ourselves, nor is Waynflete. And as for other things--well--the world goes wrong with others." He glanced at Cuthbert for a moment, then sat upright, and said--