ive or six years
seemed to promise stability.

Immediately after luncheon the young man set forth, and did not
reappear until the evening of the next day. His spirits had not
benefited by the excursion; at dinner he was noticeably silent, and
instead of going to the drawing-room afterwards he betook himself to
the studio up on the roof, and smoked in solitude. There, towards ten
o'clock, Sidwell sought him. Heavy rain was beating upon the glass, and
a high wind blended its bluster with the cheerless sound.

'Don't you find it rather cold here?' she asked, after observing her
brother's countenance of gloom.

'Yes; I'm coming down.--Why don't you keep up your painting?'

'I have lost interest in it, I'm afraid.'

'That's very weak, you know. It seems to me that nothing interests you
permanently.'

Sidwell thought it better to make no reply.

'The characteristic of women,' Buckland pursued, with some asperity,
throwing away the stump of his cigar. 'It comes, I suppose, of their
ridiculous education--their minds are never trained to fixity of
purpose. They never understand themselves, and scarcely ever make an
effort to understand any one else. Their life is a succession of
inconsistencies.'

'This generalising is so easy,' said Sidwell, with a laugh, 'and so
worthless. I wonder you should be so far behind the times.'

'What light have the times thrown on the subject?'

'There's no longer such a thing as _woman_ in the abstract. We are
individuals.'

'Don't imagine it! That may come to pass three or four generations
hence, but as yet the best of you can only vary the type in unimportant
particulars. By the way, what is Peak's address?'

'Longbrook Street; but I don't know the number. Father can give it you,
I think.'

'I shall have to drop him a note. I must get back to town early in the
morning.'

'Really? We hoped to have you for a week.'

'Longer next time.'

They descended together. Now that Louis no longer abode here (he had
decided at length for medicine, and was at work in London), the family
as a rule spent very quiet evenings. By ten o'clock Mrs Warricombe and
Fanny had retired, and Sidwell was left either to talk with her father,
or to pursue the calm meditations which seemed to make her independent
of companionship as often as she chose.

'Are they all gone?' Buckland asked, finding a vacant room.

'Father is no doubt in the study.'

'It occurs to me--. Do you feel satisfied with this de