than usual at his dogs on the way home, and they
squalled oftener and louder.

Now, for some reason or other, Dangerfield had watched the growing
intimacy between Mervyn and Miss Gertrude Chattesworth with an evil eye.
He certainly did know something about this Mr. Mervyn, with his
beautiful sketches, and his talk about Italy, and his fine music. And
his own spectacles had carefully surveyed Miss Chattesworth, and she had
passed the ordeal satisfactorily. And Dangerfield thought, 'These people
can't possibly suspect the actual state of the case, and who and what
this gentleman is _to my certain knowledge_; and 'tis a pity so fine a
young lady should be sacrificed for want of a word spoken in season.'
And when he had decided upon a point, it was not easy to make him stop
or swerve.

CHAPTER XXII.

TELLING HOW MR. MERVYN FARED AT BELMONT, AND OF A PLEASANT LITTLE
DEJEUNER BY THE MARGIN OF THE LIFFEY.

Now it happened that on the very same day, the fashion of Dr.
Walsingham's and of Aunt Rebecca's countenances were one and both
changed towards Mr. Mervyn, much to his chagrin and puzzle. The doctor,
who met him near his own house on the bridge, was something distant in
manner, and looked him in the face with very grave eyes, and seemed sad,
and as if he had something on his mind, and laid his hand upon the young
man's arm, and addressed himself to speak; but glancing round his
shoulder, and seeing people astir, and that they were under observation,
he reserved himself.

That both the ladies of Belmont looked as if they had heard some strange
story, each in her own way. Aunt Rebecca received the young man without
a smile, and was unaccountably upon her high horse, and said some dry
and sharp things, and looked as if she could say more, and coloured
menacingly, and, in short, was odd, and very nearly impertinent. And
Gertrude, though very gentle and kind, seemed also much graver, and
looked pale, and her eyes larger and more excited, and altogether like a
brave young lady who had fought a battle without crying. And Mervyn saw
all this and pondered on it, and went away soon; the iron entered into
his soul.

Aunt Rebecca was so occupied with her dogs, squirrels, parrots, old
women, and convicts, that her eyes being off the cards, she saw little
of the game; and when a friendly whisper turned her thoughts that way,
and it flashed upon her that tricks and honours were pretty far gone,
she never remembered that she