ave liked to do. The return
of my uncle is so extraordinary that it ought to be told in a less
hurried way than this. He has been supposed dead by all of us for nearly
ten years--ever since the time we last heard from him.'

'For which I am to blame,' said Mr. Power, nodding to Paula's architect.
'Yet not I, but accident and a sluggish temperament. There are times,
Mr Somerset, when the human creature feels no interest in his kind,
and assumes that his kind feels no interest in him. The feeling is not
active enough to make him fly from their presence; but sufficient to
keep him silent if he happens to be away. I may not have described it
precisely; but this I know, that after my long illness, and the fancied
neglect of my letters--'

'For which my father was not to blame, since he did not receive them,'
said Paula.

'For which nobody was to blame--after that, I say, I wrote no more.'

'You have much pleasure in returning at last, no doubt,' said Somerset.

'Sir, as I remained away without particular pain, so I return without
particular joy. I speak the truth, and no compliments. I may add that
there is one exception to this absence of feeling from my heart, namely,
that I do derive great satisfaction from seeing how mightily this young
woman has grown and prevailed.'

This address, though delivered nominally to Somerset, was listened to by
Paula, Mrs. Goodman, and De Stancy also. After uttering it, the speaker
turned away, and continued his previous conversation with Captain
De Stancy. From this time till the group parted he never again spoke
directly to Somerset, paying him barely so much attention as he might
have expected as Paula's architect, and certainly less than he might
have supposed his due as her accepted lover.

The result of the appearance, as from the tomb, of this wintry man was
that the evening ended in a frigid and formal way which gave little
satisfaction to the sensitive Somerset, who was abstracted and
constrained by reason of thoughts on how this resuscitation of the uncle
would affect his relation with Paula. It was possibly also the thought
of two at least of the others. There had, in truth, scarcely yet been
time enough to adumbrate the possibilities opened up by this gentleman's
return.

The only private word exchanged by Somerset with any one that night was
with Mrs. Goodman, in whom he always recognized a friend to his cause,
though the fluidity of her character rendered her but a fee