'What a heavenly evening!' said a low, sweet voice, but with something insidious in it, close at his shoulder. With a start, Rachel glanced back, and saw the pale, peculiar face of her brother. His yellow eyes for a moment gleamed into hers, and then on the vicar, and, with his accustomed smile, he extended his hand. 'How do you do?--better, I hope, Radie? How are you, William?' Rachel grew deadly pale, and then flushed, and then was pale again. 'I thought, Stanley, you were in London.' 'So I was; but I arrived here this morning; I'm staying for a few days at the Lodge--Larkin's house; you're going home, I suppose, Radie?' 'Yes--oh, yes--but I don't know that I'll go this way. You say you must return to Gylingden now, Mr. Wylder; I think I'll turn also, and go home that way.' 'Nothing would give me greater pleasure,' said the vicar, truly as well as kindly, for he had grown interested in their conversation; 'but I fear you are tired'--he looked very kindly on her pale face--'and you know it will cost you a walk of more than two miles.' 'I forgot--yes--I believe I _am_ a _little_ tired; I'm afraid I have led _you_, too, farther than you intended.' She fancied that her sudden change of plan on meeting her brother would appear odd. 'I'll see you a little bit on your way home, Radie,' said Stanley. It was just what she wished to escape. She was more nervous, though not less courageous than formerly. But the old, fierce, defiant spirit awoke. Why should she fear Stanley, or what could it be to her whether he was beside her in her homeward walk? So the vicar made his adieux there, and began, at a brisker pace, to retrace his steps toward Gylingden; and she and Stanley, side by side, walked on toward Redman's Dell. 'What a charming park! and what delightful air, Radie; and the weather so very delicious. They talk of Italian evenings; but there is a pleasant sharpness in English evenings quite peculiar. Is not there just a little suspicion of frost--don't you think so--not actually cold, but crisp and sharp--unspeakably exhilarating; now really, this evening is quite celestial.' 'I've just been listening to a good man's conversation, and I wish to reflect upon it,' said Rachel, very coldly. 'Quite so; that is, of course, when you are alone,' answered Stanley, serenely. 'William was always a very clever fellow to talk--very well read in theology--is not he?--yes, he does talk very sweetly and nobly on religion; it is a pity he is not quite straight, or at least more punctual, in his money affairs.' 'He is distressed for money? William Wylder is distressed for money! Do you mean _that_?' said Rachel, turning a tone of sudden surprise and energy, almost horror, turning full upon him, and stopping short. 'Oh, dear! no--not the least distressed that I ever heard of,' laughed Stanley coldly--'only just a little bit roguish, maybe.' 'That's so like you, Stanley,' said the young lady, with a quiet scorn, resuming her onward walk.