cion a rest!" Ah! if only the other
fellow would!

Lionel had been told to suspect, and at first found the task no harder
than you or I should find it. But apart from the strong inducement to
forego suspicion--viz., the physical and mental attractions of Miss
Arkwright--every day made it more difficult to sustain the suspicious
attitude. The early surprises--the "out of bounds" rule, the dumb
servants, the seclusion of his hostess and the like--gave him plenty to
wonder at, rich food for a seeker of garbage. But usage made the odd
seem ordinary, and Miss Arkwright always had an explanation. The
servants had already been accounted for; the prohibition of the village
might be a whim (though of course he was not satisfied with this), her
own seclusion he guessed, from a hint here and there, was due to a
disappointment in early youth. But it was really custom that staled the
infinite variety of the first surprises; he had to accept the routine of
The Quiet House, and could not be expected to whip up a daily supply of
suspicions. One can imagine, perhaps, a Jew in a medieval baron's
dungeon waking peacefully and asking his jailer, "What is it to-day,
Cedric? A tooth out, the strappado, or the rack? Just a tooth? Good."

The analogy is anything but exact, for Lionel did not get a succession
of thrills. The daily wonder as to _why_ she forbade him the village;
_why_ she did not receive any local god, parson, squire, or doctor;
_why_ she did this or that, dwindled imperceptibly. He did not
consciously relax: he had to adjust himself to the new conditions; but
the effort at adjustment grew less laborious, and soon was in some
danger of ceasing altogether.

Not that he abandoned his vigilance. Beatrice had enjoined him with
unnecessary and vain repetition to watch her sister. He gladly obeyed.
The English language is susceptible of many interpretations, and who
could dogmatize on the precise value to be attached to the word
"watch!"? Lionel "watched" all the time, but his watching at the end of
a fortnight was very different from the early vigils. He learned nothing
from watching, save that Winifred Arkwright was a delightful creature,
with hair of such and such a color and softness--eyes of such and such a
sweetness, and so forth. Things, you observe, of no importance from
Lukos' point of view, though a chronicler is bound to state them,
however briefly.

They became good friends. There was no hint of boredom on either side,