, too
ingenuous man, was compelled to return to the subject himself, and,
towards the end of the journey, rashly gave utterance to half a wish
that he had not left 'that young fool' behind. Mrs. Rossall, herself a
little too impetuous when triumph was no longer doubtful, made such
pointed remarks on the neglect of good advice that the ire which was
cooling shot forth flame in another direction. Brother and sister
arrived at Geneva in something less than perfect amity. Their real
affection for each other was quite capable of bearing not infrequently
the strain of irritability on both sides. A day of mutual causticities
had well prepared the ground for the return of good temper, when the
arrival of Wilfrid, by astonishing both, hastened their complete
reconciliation. Wilfrid was mysterious; for a week he kept his counsel,
and behaved as if nothing unusual had happened. By that time Mr. Athel's
patience had reached its limit; he requested to be told how matters
stood. Wilfrid, determined not to compromise his dignity by speaking
first, but glad enough when his father broached the topic, related the
story of his visit to Dunfield. Possibly he laid needless emphasis on
Emily's unselfish prudence.

'I fail to see the striking meritoriousness of all that,' Mr. Athel
observed, put into a good humour by the result, and consequently
allowing himself a little captiousness. 'It merely means that she
behaved as any woman who respected herself would under the
circumstances. Your own behaviour, on the other hand--well, let it
pass.'

'I don't see that I could have acted otherwise,' said Wilfrid, too
contented to care about arguing the point.

'You of course saw her parents?'

Wilfrid had given no detailed account of the way in which his interview
with Emily had been obtained. He mentioned it now, his father listening
with the frowning smile of a man who judges such puerilities from the
standpoint of comfortable middle age.

The tone between them returned before long to the friendliness never
previously interrupted. Mr. Athel shortly wrote a letter to Mr.
Baxendale of Dunfield, whom he only knew by name as Beatrice Redwing's
uncle, and begged for private information regarding Emily's family. He
received a courteous reply, the details not of course wholly palatable,
but confirmatory of the modest hopes he had entertained. This reply he
showed to his sister. Mrs. Rossall raised her eyebrows resignedly, and
returned the letter in s