l, not quarrelled exactly; but there was a good deal of talking,
don't you know. He kept her up late, and bothered her, and then she got
a headache. "But Cedric forbore to tell his friend that he had been so
perturbed by the sound of Saul Jacobi's angry voice that he had stolen
down the stairs to the passage below. How long he stood there
transfixed with fear and pity it was impossible to say. No words
reached him--only the harsh, vibrant tones of Saul Jacobi's voice and
Leah's low, piteous sobbing.

He might have stood there until morning, but the door suddenly
unlatched, and he had only just time to steal away; but before he could
enter his room a few words did reach him.

"Oh, Saul, please do not leave me like this. Don't I always do as you
wish; only--only I thought you approved; that--that--" but here sobs
choked her voice.

"What is the use of turning on the waterworks like this?" muttered her
brother angrily. "What fools you women are! A boy like that too!"

"But, Saul, Saul--"

"Yes, I know," sulkily. "I have not changed my mind, but I mean to have
my way about to-morrow all the same. If you had been sensible I would
have told you my reasons; but you chose to aggravate me, and I said a
precious lot more than I meant. There, go to sleep and forget
it"--evidently a rough attempt to be conciliatory; but Leah's sad and
weary face told its own tale the next morning.

Malcolm did not ask any more questions, and after a few more casual
remarks Cedric went off in search of the Kestons, and Malcolm sauntered
across the lawn, looking at the various groups in the hope of seeing
Elizabeth's tall figure.

Presently he came upon Mr. Jacobi. He was standing by the sun-dial,
looking smart and well-groomed in his frock-coat, and a rare orchid in
his button-hole. He was contemplating the house with fixed attention. A
sudden impulse made Malcolm join him. Mr. Jacobi greeted him with his
usual affability, and then, as though by mutual consent, they strolled
together in the direction of the rustic bridge.

"Nice sleepy old place this," observed Mr. Jacobi condescendingly.
"Seems as though it had been in existence for a hundred years at least.
Do you know how long it has belonged to the Templetons?"

"No, I have no idea," returned Malcolm stiffly, for he resented the
question. "What a perfect day it is! I am sorry to hear from Templeton
that your sister is indisposed."

Mr. Jacobi's eyes narrowed a little; he looked rathe