ouni; and
were also very eager to hear Gilbert's adventures in Australia, of which
he had given them only very brief accounts in his letters. There was
nothing said that night about Marian, and Gilbert was grateful for his
sister's forbearance.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CALLED TO ACCOUNT.

Gilbert walked over to Heatherly after luncheon next day, taking of
preference the way which led him past Captain Sedgewick's cottage and
through the leafless wood where he and Marian had walked together when
the foliage was in its summer glory. The leaves lay thick upon the mossy
ground now; and the gaunt bare branches of the trees had a weird awful
look in the utter silence of the place. His footsteps trampling upon the
fallen leaves had an echo; and he turned to look behind him more than
once, fancying he was followed.

The old house, with its long lines of windows, had a prison-like aspect
under the dull November day. Gilbert wondered how such a man as Sir David
Forster could endure his existence there, embittered as it was by the
memory of that calamity which had taken all the sunlight out of his life,
and left him a weary and purposeless hunter after pleasure. But Sir David
had been prostrate under the heavy hand of his hereditary foe, the gout,
for a long time past; and was fain to content himself with such company
as came to him at Heatherly, and such amusement as was to be found in the
society of men who were boon companions rather than friends. Gilbert
Fenton heard the familiar clash of the billiard-balls as he went into the
hall, where a couple of liver-coloured setters were dozing before a great
fire that roared half-way up the wide chimney. There was no other life in
the hall; and Mr. Fenton was conducted to the other end of the house, and
ushered into that tobacco-tainted snuggery in which he had last seen the
Baronet. His suspicions were on the alert this time; and he fancied he
could detect a look of something more than surprise in Sir David's face
when the servant announced him--an uneasy look, as of a man taken at a
disadvantage.

The Baronet was very gracious, however, and gave him a hearty welcome.

"I'm uncommonly glad to see you, my dear Fenton," he said, "Indeed, I
have been pleased to see worse fellows than you lately, since this
infernal gout has laid me up in this dreary old place. The house is
pretty full now, I am happy to say. I have friends who will come to shoot
my partridges, though they won't rem