th's nature. It stilled him like a note of music.

Martin had a keen sense of his personality; he felt it right and
sensible that the girl should discriminate him from his brothers. Like
his father, he hated ceremony. It was acceptable to hear a lady address
him as "Martin," and not Mr. Martin or Master Martin, which form would
have lost her his good graces for ever. Worse, if possible, than
ceremony was the other extreme of slipshod familiarity. The slight tone
of bashfulness, the scarcely perceptible hesitation, was considered
perfectly in place.

"I am Martin," he said.

"Are your father and mother well?" (it was lucky she did not say _papa_
and _mamma_; that would have undone all); "and Rose and Jessie?"

"I suppose so."

"My cousin Hortense is still at Briarmains?"

"Oh yes."

Martin gave a comic half-smile and demi-groan. The half-smile was
responded to by the lady, who could guess in what sort of odour Hortense
was likely to be held by the young Yorkes.

"Does your mother like her?"

"They suit so well about the servants they can't help liking each
other."

"It is cold to-night."

"Why are you out so late?"

"I lost my way in this wood."

Now, indeed, Martin allowed himself a refreshing laugh of scorn.

"Lost your way in the mighty forest of Briarmains! You deserve never
more to find it."

"I never was here before, and I believe I am trespassing now. You might
inform against me if you chose, Martin, and have me fined. It is your
father's wood."

"I should think I knew that. But since you are so simple as to lose your
way, I will guide you out."

"You need not. I have got into the track now. I shall be right. Martin"
(a little quickly), "how is Mr. Moore?"

Martin had heard certain rumours; it struck him that it might be amusing
to make an experiment.

"Going to die. Nothing can save him. All hope flung overboard!"

She put her veil aside. She looked into his eyes, and said, "To die!"

"To die. All along of the women, my mother and the rest. They did
something about his bandages that finished everything. He would have got
better but for them. I am sure they should be arrested, cribbed, tried,
and brought in for Botany Bay, at the very least."

The questioner, perhaps, did nor hear this judgment. She stood
motionless. In two minutes, without another word, she moved forwards; no
good-night, no further inquiry. This was not amusing, nor what Martin
had calculated on. He expected somethin