stance had floated over the apparition of that bride. Was it a year
since he saw her and gnashed his teeth at the thought of his own folly,
or was it only last Sunday? The doctor could not tell. He put Nettie's
note in his pocket-book, and was at the hotel door punctually at one
o'clock. It was in the principal street of Carlingford, George Street,
where all the best shops, and indeed some of the best houses, were.
From the corner window of the hotel you could see down into the bowery
seclusion of Grange Lane, and Mr Wodehouse's famous apple-trees holding
tempting clusters over the high wall. The prospect was very different
from that which extended before Dr Rider's window. Instinctively he
marvelled within himself whether, if Dr Marjoribanks were to die--people
cannot live for ever even in Carlingford--whether it might not be a
disadvantage to a man to live so far out of the world. No doubt it
was a temptation of the Evil One. Happily the young man did not take
sufficient time to answer himself, but walked forward briskly through
the mazy old passages of the old inn, to a room from which sundry noises
issued. Dr Rider walked in with the natural confidence of a man who
has an appointment. The room was in undisturbed possession of three
children--three children making noise enough for six--all very small, very
precocious, with staring round eyes and the most complete independence of
speech and manners. The doctor confronted the little rabble thunderstruck;
they were his brother's children, unrecognisable little savages as they
were. One little fellow, in a linen pinafore, was mounted on the arm of a
sofa, spurring vigorously; another was pursuing his sister about the
room, trying to catch her feet with the tongs, and filling the air
with repeated loud snaps of disappointment. They intermitted their
occupations to stare at him. "Look here--here's a man," said the youngest,
meditatively, beholding his dismayed uncle with a philosophic eye.
"Can't some one go and tell Nettie?" said the little girl, gazing also
with calm equanimity. "If he wants Nettie he'll have to wait," said the
elder boy. A pause followed; the unhappy doctor stood transfixed by the
steady stare of their three pair of eyes. Suddenly the little girl burst
out of the room, and ran screaming along the passage. "Mamma, mamma,
here's a man come," cried the wonderful colonial child. A few minutes
afterwards their mother appeared, languid and faded as before. Perha