uch loophole of escape. Mr Roberts could only reply that he
entertained a similar hope. But whatever his hopes might be, his
expectations on that score were not extensive. Mr Roberts had the
nature of the ostrich, and imagined that if he shut his eyes to the
thing he wished to avoid seeing, he thereby annihilated its existence.
Deep down in his heart he held considerable doubts as concerned more
than one member of his family; but the doubts were uncomfortable: so he
put them to bed, drew the curtains, and told them to be good doubts and
go to sleep. When children are treated in this manner, mothers and
nurses know that sometimes they go to sleep. But sometimes they don't.
And doubts are very much like children in that respect. Occasionally
they consent to be smothered up and shelved aside; at other times they
break out and become provokingly noisy. A good deal depends on the
vitality of both the doubts and the children.

Mr Roberts's doubts and fears--for they went together--that all his
household were not in a conformable state of mind, had hitherto gone to
sleep at his bidding; but lately they had been more difficult to manage.
He was uneasy about his sister, Mrs Collenwood; and with no diminution
of his affection for her, was beginning to realise that his mind would
be relieved when she ended her visit and went home. He feared her
influence over Pandora. For Gertrude he had no fears. He knew, and so
did the priest, that Gertrude was not the sort of girl to indulge in
abstract speculations, religious or otherwise. So long as her new gown
was not made in last year's fashion, and her mantua-maker did not put
her off with Venice ribbon when she wanted Tours, it mattered nothing at
all to Gertrude whether she attended mass or went to the nearest
conventicle. Nor had the fears spread yet towards Mistress Grena, who
still appeared at mass on Sunday and holy-days, though with many inward
misgivings which she never spoke.

Perhaps the priest had sharper eyes than the easy-tempered master of
Primrose Croft. But his tongue had lost nothing of its softness when he
next inquired--

"And how long, my son, does your sister, Mistress Collenwood, abide with
you?"

"Not much longer now, Father," replied the unhappy Mr Roberts, with a
private resolution that his answer should be true if he could make it
so.

Mr Bastian left that unpleasant topic, and proceeded to carry his
queries into the servants' department, Mr Ro