Charles shivered and set his teeth. High on the hill among the trees the
distant lights of Slumberleigh shone like glowworms through the mist. He
looked at them with wild eyes. She was there, the woman who loved him,
and whom he passionately loved. He could stretch forth his hand to take
her if he would. His breath came hard and thick. A hand seemed clutching
and tearing at his heart. And close at his ear the whisper came:

_"There is no one to tell if you don't."_

CHAPTER XXVIII.

It was close on dressing-time when Charles came into the drawing-room,
where Evelyn and Molly were building castles on the hearth-rug in the
ruddy firelight. After changing his damp clothes, he had gone to the
smoking-room, but he had found Dare sitting there in a vast
dressing-gown of Ralph's, in a state of such utter dejection, with his
head in his hands, that he had silently retreated again before he had
been perceived. He did not want to see Dare just now. He wished he were
not in the house.

Quite oblivious of the fact that he was not in Evelyn's good graces, he
went and sat by the drawing-room fire, and absently watched Molly
playing with her bricks. Presently, when the dressing-bell rang, Evelyn
went away to dress, and Molly, tired of her castles, suggested that she
might sit on his knee.

He let her climb up and wriggle and finally settle herself as it seemed
good to her, but he did not speak; and so they sat in the firelight
together, Molly's hand lovingly stroking his black velvet coat. But her
talents lay in conversation, not in silence, and she soon broke it.

"You do look beautiful to-night, Uncle Charles."

"Do I?" without elation.

"Do you know, Uncle Charles, Ninny's sister with the wart on her cheek
has been to tea? She's in the nursery now. Ninny says she's to have a
bite of supper before she goes."

"You don't say so?"

"And we had buttered toast to tea, and she said you were the most
splendid gentleman she ever saw."

Charles did not answer. He did not even seem to have heard this
interesting tribute to his personal appearance. Molly felt that
something must be gravely amiss, and, laying her soft cheek against his,
she whispered, confidentially:

"Uncle Charles, are you uncomferable inside?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes, Molly," at last, pressing her to him.

"Is it there?" said Molly, sympathetically, laying her hand on the front
portion of her amber sash.

"No, Molly; I only wish it were."