bosom, as she unplaited her hair and threw it back in one
great mass over her shoulders. "Fancy," she thought, "if he saw me now!"
She turned back to the table, and sighed again as she extinguished one
of the candles and took the other in her hand. "Midwinter?" she said, as
she passed through the folding-doors of the room to her bed-chamber. "I
don't believe in his name, to begin with!"

The night had advanced by more than an hour before Midwinter was back
again at the great house.

Twice, well as the homeward way was known to him, he had strayed out of
the right road. The events of the evening--the interview with Miss
Gwilt herself, after his fortnight's solitary thinking of her; the
extraordinary change that had taken place in her position since he had
seen her last; and the startling assertion of Allan's connection with
it--had all conspired to throw his mind into a state of ungovernable
confusion. The darkness of the cloudy night added to his bewilderment.
Even the familiar gates of Thorpe Ambrose seemed strange to him. When
he tried to think of it, it was a mystery to him how he had reached the
place.

The front of the house was dark, and closed for the night. Midwinter
went round to the back. The sound of men's voices, as he advanced,
caught his ear. They were soon distinguishable as the voices of the
first and second footman, and the subject of conversation between them
was their master.

"I'll bet you an even half-crown he's driven out of the neighborhood
before another week is over his head," said the first footman.

"Done!" said the second. "He isn't as easy driven as you think."

"Isn't he!" retorted the other. "He'll be mobbed if he stops here! I
tell you again, he's not satisfied with the mess he's got into already.
I know it for certain, he's having the governess watched."

At those words, Midwinter mechanically checked himself before he turned
the corner of the house. His first doubt of the result of his meditated
appeal to Allan ran through him like a sudden chill. The influence
exercised by the voice of public scandal is a force which acts in
opposition to the ordinary law of mechanics. It is strongest, not by
concentration, but by distribution. To the primary sound we may shut our
ears; but the reverberation of it in echoes is irresistible. On his way
back, Midwinter's one desire had been to find Allan up, and to speak to
him immediately. His one hope now was to gain time to contend with the