hold looks of
expectation. All seem self-possessed, except Esther. While bewitchingly
trying to be very circumspect, Esther is consciously excited. Starting
up, checking the impulse, with forced composure slowly sitting down,
Esther steals glances at Alice and Charles, asks questions, answers to
which do not interest her in the least, then hugs the spoiled Bessie,
and quits the room.

Sir Donald drives alone to the station. Soon the train arrives. After
greetings, Oswald enters the carriage, and they slowly drive toward that
elegant home. Sir Donald notes Oswald's subdued responses. His intuition
suggests some recent sad revelation at the parental fireside. He
inquires about Oswald's home visit and the health of his parents. The
reply sounds like echo of requiem toll.

"Mother went away!"

Words of condolence would be incongruous. Silence is more expressive.
Without reference to past tragic happenings, these talk about current
matters of incidental interest, and are soon at the Northfield mansion.

Entering the family sitting-room, Charles is first presented. Then from
an obscure corner, with scared smile upon her face, advances Alice
Webster. Both look inquiringly as they extend their hands. Bessie gazes
with large, curious eyes, and all are seated.

Sir Donald has relieved the tense embarrassment by some casual comments,
when in the next room is heard timid, hesitating steps. Turning toward
the connecting arch, Oswald's eyes meet those of Esther Randolph.
Timidly advancing, Esther extends her hand, which soon trembles in his
own, but hints not at withdrawal. That palm's tremulous lingering is
most subtle, yet ingenuous assurance. Oswald's heart quickens at the
sign.

The evening is passed in refined conversation. Oswald's pensive musings
cannot last in such environment. There is no haste to talk over past
sorrows. Both Oswald and Charles recall having met on that "tramp"
steamer.

As if for Oswald's better assurance, Esther lingers near, never seeming
at ease except in his presence. At times she gazes upon that erratic
erstwhile suitor as if fearful he again may leave upon some strange
journey. Often to Esther it seems Oswald is unduly reserved, fearing
long looking into her eyes or lingering touches of that confiding hand
as useless toying with forbidden things. Her woman's intuition suggests
the cause. Upon the lake's wooded shore years ago did she not respond to
that eloquent avowal with stated consecratio