Mrs. Temple took her old husband’s arm without a word, and went straight home. He had not himself been at the service, but met her at the door; where he too saw the bride in her blue silk. The old Captain did nothing but shake his head. He could not trust himself to speak. “What are things coming to?” he said at last, as they got within their own door. “When that young fellow was made a Chevalier, I said nothing could come of it but mischief to the community.” Captain Despard, being only fifty, was a young fellow to this veteran. “Never mind the community,” said Mrs. Temple, which was a bold thing to say. It was getting late in the October afternoon, and within the little sitting-rooms of the Lodges it seemed dark, coming in even from the grey afternoon skies outside. Mrs. Temple rang for the lamp before she went upstairs to take off her bonnet. She was very full of thought, and sighed as she went. Her own girl, for whom she would so gladly have died, was gone, leaving father and mother desolate--and here was another poor girl who lived, but had no one to care for her. Strange are the decrees of Providence. Mrs. Temple sighed as she came downstairs again to where her old Captain sat gazing at the lamp with a sorrowful face. “Yes, my dear,” he said as she came in, “you were right to say never mind the community. After all, I suppose there is no community in the world that has not its black sheep. Nobody will be so foolish as to confound _us_ with such a fellow; but when I think of that poor girl----” “That is what I have been thinking of,” said Mrs. Temple; “but perhaps,” she added, still unwilling to betray her interest in Lottie, that interest which was half opposition, “perhaps she may not feel it so much as we suppose.” “Feel it! I have not liked to say very much about her, my dear. She reminds me so of our own----and I know you could not bear to talk of that,” said the good Captain, innocent of the fact that he had talked of little else for months past. “But if you only knew her better! There is something in her walk--in the turn of her head--that so reminds me--but I never liked to say much about it. You must not think she does not feel it. I met her and was talking with her just before I came for you. But for leaving you alone I should have taken her for a walk; it would have done her good. I believe she rushed off to the Slopes after all.” “I do not think she would get much good on the Slopes,” said Mrs. Temple, thinking of the little wind of gossip about Mr. Rollo Ridsdale which had begun to breathe about the Lodges. “She would get fresh air--and quiet; she likes that; she is a very thoughtful girl, my dear--very serious, just like our own poor----. You must forgive me if I am always seeing resemblances. Lottie is very fond of the twilight. I have gone with her so often I know her tastes. Many a time I have done the same with----. When I feel her little arm in mine, I could almost think sometimes that other days have come back.”