rk mahogany panelled wall beyond, the
eyes of Phineas Duge seemed to be seeking that night something which
they failed to find. The last few weeks seemed in a way to have aged the
man. His lips had come closer together, there were faint lines on his
forehead and underneath his eyes. The butler from behind his chair
looked down upon his master's carefully parted and picturesque hair,
wondering why he sat so still, wondering what he saw that he looked so
steadily at that one particular spot in the panelled wall, and lingered
so unusually long over the last few drops of his wine. Phineas Duge
himself wondered still more what had come to him. For many years men and
women had come and gone, leaving him indifferent as to their coming and
going, their pains and their joys; and to-night, though there were many
matters with which his mind might well have been occupied, he found
himself in the curious position of indulging in vague and almost
regretful memories. The place at the other end of his table was empty,
as it had been for many nights; for during the period of his titanic
struggle with those men against whom he had declared war, he had shunned
all society, and lived a life of stern and absolute seclusion.

To-night that steady gaze which wandered over the drooping flowers was
really fixed upon that empty chair at the other end of the table. A man
of few fancies, he was never quite without imagination. His thoughts had
travelled easily back to a few weeks ago. He saw Virginia sitting there,
watched the delightful smile coming and going, the large grey eyes that
watched him so ceaselessly, the little ripple of pleasant conversation,
which he had never dreamed that he could ever miss. After all, what a
child! As a matter of justice, and he told himself that it was justice
only which had power to sway his judgment, what right had he to blame
her for what was really nothing but a freak of ill-fortune! Had he
punished himself in sending her away? Somehow, during these last few
nights, the room had seemed curiously cold and empty. He had missed her
little timidly offered ministrations, the touch of her fingers upon his
shoulder, the whole nameless delicacy which her presence had brought
into the cold, magnificent surroundings, which seemed to him now as
though they could never be quite the same again.

These thoughts had come to him before, but it was only to-night he had
suffered them to linger in his mind. Once or twice he had