--had the clinging, the intensity of
passion.

They were the expression of all that had lain vibrating at the man's
inmost heart during the dark drive, while he had been chatting with his
two companions.

"My darling! I hope not. Would you rather not see strangers? Shall I
send Hallin and young Leven away? They would understand at once."

"Oh, no! Mr. Wharton is here anyway--staying. Where is Mr. Hallin? I
had forgotten him."

Aldous turned and called. Mr. Hallin and young Frank Leven, divining
something unusual, were looking at the pictures in the hall.

Edward Hallin came up and took Marcella's offered hand. Each looked at
the other with a special attention and interest. "She holds my friend's
life in her hands--is she worthy of it?" was naturally the question
hanging suspended in the man's judgment. The girl's manner was proud and
shy, the manner of one anxious to please, yet already, perhaps, on the
defensive.

Aldous explained the position of affairs, and Hallin expressed his
sympathy. He had a singularly attractive voice, the voice indeed of the
orator, which can adapt itself with equal charm and strength to the most
various needs and to any pitch. As he spoke, Marcella was conscious of a
sudden impression that she already knew him and could be herself with
him at once.

"Oh, I say," broke in young Leven, who was standing behind; "don't you
be bothered with us, Miss Boyce. Just send us back at once. I'm awfully
sorry!"

"No; you are to come in!" she said, smiling through her pallor, which
was beginning to pass away, and putting out her hand to him--the young
Eton and Oxford athlete, just home for his Christmas vacation, was a
great favourite with her--"You must come and have tea and cheer me up by
telling me all the things you have killed this week. Is there anything
left alive? You had come down to the fieldfares, you know, last
Tuesday."

He followed her, laughing and protesting, and she led the way to the
drawing-room. But as her fingers were on the handle she once more caught
sight of the maid, Deacon, standing on the stairs, and ran to speak to
her.

"He is better," she said, coming back with a face of glad relief. "The
attack seems to be passing off. Mamma can't come down, but she begs that
we will all enjoy ourselves."

"We'll endeavour," said young Leven, rubbing his hands, "by the help of
tea. Miss Boyce, will you please tell Aldous and Mr. Hallin not to talk
politics when they're taking m