Ravenel, who
had spoken scarcely six words the whole time.

When he was gone the father and mother seemed both relieved.

"Truly, John, he has gained little by his visit, and I hope it may be
long before we see an earl in our quiet house again. Come in to
dinner, my children."

But his lordship had left an uncomfortable impression behind him. It
lasted even until that quiet hour--often the quietest and happiest of
our day--when, the children being all in bed, we elders closed in round
the fire.

Ursula and I sat there, longer alone than usual.

"John is late to-night," she said more than once; and I could see her
start, listening to every foot under the window, every touch at the
door-bell; not stirring, though: she knew his foot and his ring quite
well always.

"There he is!" we both said at once--much relieved; and John came in.

Brightness always came in with him. Whatever cares he had without--and
they were heavy enough, God knows--they always seemed to slip off the
moment he entered his own door; and whatever slight cares we had at
home, we put them aside; as they could not but be put aside, nay,
forgotten--at the sight of him.

"Well, Uncle Phineas! Children all right, my darling? A fire! I'm
glad of it. Truly to-night is as cold as November."

"John, if you have a weakness, it is for fire. You're a regular
salamander."

He laughed--warming his hands at the blaze. "Yes, I would rather be
hungry than cold, any day. Love, our one extravagance is certainly
coals. A grand fire this! I do like it so!"

She called him "foolish;" but smoothed down with a quiet kiss the
forehead he lifted up to her as she stood beside him, looking as if she
would any day have converted the whole house into fuel for his own
private and particular benefit.

"Little ones all in bed, of course?"

"Indeed, they would have lain awake half the night--those naughty
boys--talking of Longfield. You never saw children so delighted."

"Are they?" I thought the tone was rather sad, and that the father sat
listening with less interest than usual to the pleasant little
household chronicle, always wonderful and always new, which it was his
custom to ask for and have, night after night, when he came
home,--saying it was to him, after his day's toil, like a "babbling o'
green fields." Soon it stopped.

"John dear, you are very tired?"

"Rather."

"Have you been very busy all day?"

"Very busy."

I understood, almo