Malcolm! never had she looked more beautiful to him: the
black velvet gown suited her to perfection, and the antique Roman
necklace she wore just fitted the full white throat. This was not the
rustic owner of the white sun-bonnet, but a grand, imperial-looking
Elizabeth. Malcolm felt as though he were fast losing self-control: his
forehead grew clammy, and though he tried to speak--to break the
embarrassing silence--no words would come; but Elizabeth, lost in her
own sad thoughts, was oblivious of his emotion.

"Dinah will be here directly," she observed presently; "she is engaged
just now with a woman from the village, but she will not be long, I
hope. I trust"--and here she looked at him anxiously--"that you have no
bad news for us."

"I am afraid it is not good," he replied evasively.

"It has something to do with those odious Jacobis?" Again Malcolm bowed
his head.

"Cedric seems infatuated about them," she returned, with something of
her old impetuosity, the words tripping each other up in the usual
Elizabethan way. "We thought the man detestable--even Dinah could not
tolerate him. Oh," interrupting herself, "what am I thinking about? you
have come all this distance on our account, and I have never thought of
your comfort--you have not dined, of course;" and Elizabeth's hand was
on the bell, but he stopped her.

"I have just had supper at the 'King's Arms,' where I have taken a bed;
I want nothing, I assure you."

"At the King's Arms'!" exclaimed Elizabeth. Then she suddenly flushed
and bit her lip. She had forgotten--how could she suppose that anything
would induce him to sleep under their roof again! Malcolm's manner, his
painful air of consciousness, the deep melancholy in his eyes, told her
plainly that his trouble was as fresh as ever.

Elizabeth began to feel nervous; it was a relief to both of them when
Mullins entered the room with the coffee. "At least, you will have a
cup of coffee," she said with a little effort. "Mullins, will you put
the tray down, and tell my sister that Mr. Herrick has come down to
speak to us on business, and ask her not to keep him waiting."

Malcolm did not refuse the coffee. As he took the cup in his hand he
said in a low voice, "I hope Mr. Carlyon is well."

"Thank you, he is far from well," she returned gravely. "Mr.
Charrington has been away for the last six weeks, and he has had far
too much to do; he has taken a bad cold, and his cough is troublesome.
I have been