"Yes. Aunt went to the kitchen to see about something that was to be prepared for my uncle's supper--for she is fidgety over the cooking, and never will trust it to the servant. Martin Scott then began to tease as usual; saying how much he cared for me, and asking me to wait for him until he could get into practice." "Well?" questioned Adam impatiently as she stopped. "I told him that he had already had his answer from me and that he had no right to bring the matter up again; it was foolish besides, as it only set me more against him. Then I sat down to the piano and played the Chatelaine--he only likes rattling music--and sang a song, thinking it would pass the time in peace until aunt returned. By-and-by I heard my uncle's latch-key in the front door, and I was crossing the room to go out and meet him, when Martin Scott laid hold of my arm, and--and kissed me." Mr. Andinnian bit his lips almost to bleeding. His face was frightful in its anger. Rose shivered a little. "I am sorry I told you, Mr. Andinnian." "Now listen, Rose. If ever this Martin Scott does the like again, I'll shoot him." "Oh, Mr. Andinnian!" "I shall warn him. In the most unmistakable words; words that he cannot misconstrue; I will warn him of what I mean to do. Let him disregard it at his peril; if he does, I'll shoot him as I would shoot a dog." The very ferocity of the threat, its extreme nature, disarmed Miss Turner's belief in it. She smiled up in the speaker's face and shook her head, but was content to let the subject pass away in silence. Adam Andinnian, totally forgetting his mother's message, began talking of pleasanter things. Meanwhile, Mrs. Andinnian's patience was growing exhausted: she hated to keep other people's servants waiting her pleasure. Her fingers were on the bell to ring for Hewitt, when Karl entered the room, some sealed letters in his hand. A slender man of seven-and-twenty, slightly above the middle height, with pale, clearly-cut features and a remarkably nice expression of countenance. He had the deeply-set, beautiful grey eyes of his brother; but his hair, instead of being black and straight, was brown and wavy. An attractive looking man, this Karl Andinnian. "I am going out to post these letters," said Karl. "Can I do anything for you in the town, mother?" The voice was attractive too. Low-toned, clear, melodious, full of truth: a voice to be trusted all over the world. Adam's voice was inclined to be harsh, and he had rather a loud way of speaking. "Nothing in the town," replied Mrs. Andinnian: and, now that you notice it, _her_ voice was harsh too. "But you can go and ask your brother why he keeps me waiting. He is behind the shrubbery." Karl left his letters on the table, traversed the garden, and found Adam with Miss Turner. They turned to wait his approach. A half doubt, he knew not wherefore, dawned for the first time on his mind.