her son had rushed along the village street, or road rather,
through the cold and darkness, the quarter of a mile to Colonel
Gainsborough's house. There he was told that the colonel had a bad
headache and was already gone to his room.

'Is Miss Esther up?'

'Oh yes, sir,' said Mrs. Barker doubtfully, but she did not invite the
visitor in.

'Can I see her for a moment?'

'I haven't no orders, but I suppose you can come in, Mr. Dallas. It is
Mr. Dallas, ain't it?'

'Yes, it's I, Mrs. Barker,' said Pitt, coming in and beginning at once
to throw off his greatcoat. 'In the usual room? Is the colonel less
well than common?'

'Well, no, sir, not to call less well, as I knows on. It's the time o'
year, sir, I make bold to imagine. He has a headache bad, that he has,
and he's gone off to bed; but Miss Esther's well--so as she can be.'

Pitt got out of his greatcoat and gloves, and waited for no more. He
had a certain vague expectation of the delight his appearance would
give, and was a little eager to see it. So he went in with a bright
face to surprise Esther.

The girl was sitting by the table reading a book she had laid close
under the lamp; reading with a very grave face, Pitt saw too, and it a
little sobered the brightness of his own. It was not the dulness of
stagnation or of sorrow this time; at least Esther was certainly busily
reading; but it was sober, steady business, not the absorption of happy
interest or excitement. She looked up carelessly as the door opened,
then half incredulously as she saw the entering figure, then she shut
her book and rose to meet him. But then she did not show the lively
pleasure he had expected; her face flushed a little, she hardly smiled,
she met him as if he were more or less a stranger,--with much more
dignity and less eagerness than he was accustomed to from her. Pitt was
astonished, and piqued, and curious. However, he followed her lead, in
a measure.

'How do you do, Queen Esther?' he said, holding out his hand.

'How do you do, Pitt?' she answered, taking it; but with the oddest
mingling of reserve and doubt in her manner; and the great grave eyes
were lifted to his face for a moment, with, it seemed to him, something
of inquiry or questioning in them.

'Are you not glad to see me?'

'Yes,' she said, with another glance.

'Then _why_ are you not glad to see me?' he asked impetuously.

'I am glad to see you, of course,' she said. 'Won't you sit down?'

'This won'