week. Papa
starts for Bidport to-morrow."

This short and rather blunt exercise in Fine Shades was read impatiently
by Wilfrid. "Why doesn't she write plain to the sense?" he asked, with
the usual injustice of men, who demand a statement of facts, forgetting
how few there are to feed the post; and that indication and suggestion
are the only language for the multitude of facts unborn and possible.
Twilight best shows to the eye what may be.

"I suppose I must go down there," he said to himself, keeping a
meditative watch on the postscript, as if it possessed the capability of
slipping away and deceiving him. "Does she mean that Cornelia sees too
much of this man Barrett? or, what does she mean?" And now he saw
meanings in the simple passages, and none at all in the intricate ones;
and the double-meanings were monsters that ate one another up till
nothing remained of them. In the end, however, he made a wrathful guess
and came to a resolution, which brought him to the door of the house next
day at noon. He took some pains in noting the exact spot where he had
last seen Emilia half in moonlight, and then dismissed her image
peremptorily. The house was apparently empty. Gainsford, the footman,
gave information that he thought the ladies were upstairs, but did not
volunteer to send a maid to them. He stood in deferential footman's
attitude, with the aspect of a dog who would laugh if he could, but being
a footman out of his natural element, cannot.

"Here's a specimen of the new plan of treating servants!" thought
Wilfrid, turning away. "To act a farce for their benefit! That fellow
will explode when he gets downstairs. I see how it is. This woman, Chump,
is making them behave like schoolgirls."

He conceived the idea sharply, and forthwith, without any preparation, he
was ready to treat these high-aspiring ladies like schoolgirls. Nor was
there a lack of justification; for when they came down to his shouts in
the passage, they hushed, and held a finger aloft, and looked altogether
so unlike what they aimed at being, that Wilfrid's sense of mastery
became almost contempt.

"I know perfectly what you have to tell me," he said. "Mrs. Chump is
here, you have quarrelled with her, and she has shut her door, and you
have shut yours. It's quite intelligible and full of dignity. I really
can't smother my voice in consequence."

He laughed with unnecessary abandonment. The sensitive young women wanted
no other schooling to rec