After long, anxious thought, he made a rough calculation on a scrap of paper, and leaning back in his chair regarded it until something dim, like tears, came across his vision. “My poor Syl,” he said, “I have to rob you--for your own happiness.” And at that moment, just outside the door stood Sylvester and Ella bidding each other good-night. The full glow of the hall lamp shone down upon her radiant young face, as he held both her hands in his, and made a glinting aureole of her hair. Suddenly he laughed awkwardly and kissed her; with a half-mirthful, half-reproachful “Oh, you shouldn't!” she snatched away her hands and ran up the stairs. He stood and watched the last gleam of her skirts disappear and then entered his father's room. Matthew closed his ledger and looked up with one of his rare smiles. “Going, Syl?” “Yes. I 've been sent for, as usual. It's all very well for me to work at this ungodly hour. I'm a medical man, and I'm young. But I don't like to see you at it. You 're overdoing it, father.” “Nonsense!” replied Matthew, cheerily; “I'm as strong as a horse and younger than you are. Besides, I was only amusing myself, like the king in his counting-house, counting out my money.” He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and stretched himself contentedly in his chair. “Usher kept me a long time,” he continued, “telling me one of his interminable yarns--_a dormir debout_, as the French say.” “I can't think how you stand him,” said Sylvester. “Oh, you can stand a devil of a lot if you try,” said the old man, laughing. “Have some whisky before you go?” But Syl pleaded urgency, went out for hat and coat, and returned ready for departure. His father accompanied him to the front door. “By the way, Syl,” he said, “do you really think so hardly of the woman who sins, or was it only that Usher made you contradictious?” “I think a woman must be pure and chaste. If she falls, she falls for ever. Why do you ask?” “I only wanted to know if you were genuine.” “It is the most sacred of my convictions,” said Sylvester, gravely. The two men shook hands, and the door closed behind Sylvester. The father listened to his quick footsteps crunching the gravel until the sound died away. Then he turned and sighed. “My poor lad, God help you,” he said. CHAPTER III--SYLVESTER CONSULTS THE STARS Sylvester walked home from his case, along the undulating high-road patched with moonlight and shadow, swinging his stick. The night was crisp with a touch of frost, and the air smelt sweet. Now and then a workingman regaining his home after town convivialities, passed him by with a salute to which he replied with a cheerier good-night than usual. One he stopped, and discoursed with him at length on family ailments, much to the man's surprise; for Sylvester was renowned far and wide for his shy silence as well as for his skill. Once he began to whistle an air, wofully out of tune, and then broke into a short laugh.