lowed him into the hall. As she opened the
door for him, the rush of raw, damp air came full in their faces.

"It is a regular November evening," she observed, with a little shiver.
"It is the month I like least--the month of decay and--" then she
checked herself abruptly. "Mr. Herrick, there is a question I wanted to
ask, and that I did not wish Dinah to hear. You are going back to town
this evening, are you not, because you expect that Cedric will come to
Cheyne Walk?"

"I think he will be here," he returned reluctantly, for he had not
wished to hint at this; in his own mind he was prepared for a stormy
interview.

"I feel sure of it," she continued. "He is very unbalanced and
passionate--he will say things that he does not mean, and that he will
repent afterwards. You will bear with him--you will be patient, will
you not?"

"Do you think you need ask me that?" Malcolm's voice was so full of
reproach and meaning that a sudden flush crossed Elizabeth's face.
"Have you forgotten already?" his expression seemed to say--"is he not
your brother, and am I not your devoted and humble servant?" Then his
manner changed.

"I will deal with him as gently as possible, you may be sure of that,"
he said kindly. But Elizabeth gave him her hand rather timidly and
without looking at him.

This time there was no backward glance as Malcolm and his lantern
disappeared into the dark woodlands; but Elizabeth stood so long in the
porch that the dead leaves swirled round her feet and even blew across
the hall.

"I wish I had not said that," she thought; "I might have trusted him.
He will be firm, but he will be gentle too." And then she went back to
Dinah, and they talked together of all that should be done on the
morrow.

It was not long past eleven when Malcolm let himself into the house in
Cheyne Walk with his latch-key, but Verity was evidently on the watch
for him.

"Mr. Templeton is here," she said, and he detected a trace of anxiety
in her manner. "He has been here quite two hours. Amias wanted him to
come into the studio, but he preferred going to your room. I am afraid
he is not well, or something is troubling him; he does nothing but walk
about."

"I will go up to him," rejoined Malcolm. "I suppose there is a fire?"
Verity nodded, and wished him goodnight.

The fire was burning cheerily; nevertheless, as Malcolm opened the
door, the room felt as cold as a vault. The window opening on to the
balcony had been flung u