in that walk seemed to Rose's excited sense an insult.

As the park gate swung behind them she felt a sick longing for
Catherine's shelter. Then all the pride in her rushed to the rescue and
held that swooning dismay at the heart of her in check. And forthwith
she capped Langham's minute account of the scale-method of a famous
Berlin pianist by some witty stories of the latest London prodigy, a
child-violinist, incredibly gifted, dirty, and greedy, whom she had made
friends with in town. The girl's voice ran out sharp and hard under the
trees. Where, in fortune's name, were the lights of the Rectory? Would
this nightmare never come to an end?

At the Rectory gate was Catherine waiting for them, her whole soul one
repentant alarm.

'Mr. Langham, Robert has gone to the study; will you go and smoke with
him?'

'By all means. Good-night, then, Mrs. Elsmere.'

Catherine gave him her hand. Rose was trying hard to fit the lock of the
gate into the hasp, and had no hand free. Besides, he did not approach
her.

'Good-night!' she said to him over her shoulder.

'Oh, and Mr. Langham!' Catherine called after him as he strode away,
'will you settle with Robert about the carriage?'

He turned, made a sound of assent, and went on.

'When?' asked Rose lightly.

'For the nine-o'clock train.'

'There should be a law against interfering with people's breakfast
hour,' said Rose; 'though, to, be sure, a guest may as well get himself
gone early and be done with it. How you and Robert raced, Cathie! We did
our best to catch you up, but the pace was too good.'

Was there a wild taunt, a spice of malice in the girl's reckless voice?
Catherine could not see her in the darkness, but the sister felt a
sudden trouble invade her.

'Rose darling, you are not tired?'

'Oh dear no! Good-night, sleep well. What a goose Mrs. Darcy is!'

And, barely submitting to be kissed, Rose ran up the steps and upstairs.

Langham and Robert smoked till midnight. Langham for the first time gave
Elsmere an outline of his plans for the future, and Robert, filled with
dismay at this final breach with Oxford and human society, and the
only form of practical life possible to such a man, threw himself into
protests more and more vigorous and affectionate. Langham listened
to them at first with sombre silence, then with an impatience which
gradually reduced Robert to a sore puffing at his pipe. There was a
long space during which they sat together, the as