re at night, the slightest
noises startle me."

There was another interval of silence. It was past nine o'clock when
they heard the back door opened and closed again. Turlington came
hurriedly into the drawing-room, as if he had some reason for wishing to
rejoin the ladies as soon as possible. To the surprise of both of them,
he sat down abruptly in the corner, with his face to the wall, and took
up the newspaper, without casting a look at them or uttering a word.

"Is Joseph safe at the vicarage?" asked Miss Lavinia.

"All right." He gave the answer in a short, surly tone, still without
looking round.

Miss Lavinia tried him again. "Did you hear a whistle while you were
out? It quite startled Natalie in the stillness of this place."

He turned half-way round. "My shepherd, I suppose," he said after
a pause--"whistling for his dog." He turned back again and immersed
himself in his newspaper.

Miss Lavinia beckoned to her niece and pointed significantly to
Turlington. After one reluctant look at him, Natalie laid her head
wearily on her aunt's shoulder. "Sleepy, my dear?" whispered the old
lady. "Uneasy, aunt--I don't know why," Natalie whispered back. "I would
give the world to be in London, and to hear the carriages going by, and
the people talking in the street."

Turlington suddenly dropped his newspaper. "What's the secret between
you two?" he called out roughly. "What are you whispering about?"

"We wish not to disturb you over your reading, that is all," said Miss
Lavinia, coldly. "Has anything happened to vex you, Richard?"

"What the devil makes you think that?"

The old lady was offended, and showed it by saying nothing more. Natalie
nestled closer to her aunt. One after another the clock ticked off
the minutes with painful distinctness in the stillness of the room.
Turlington suddenly threw aside the newspaper and left his corner.
"Let's be good friends!" he burst out, with a clumsy assumption of
gayety. "This isn't keeping Christmas-eve. Let's talk and be sociable.
Dearest Natalie!" He threw his arm roughly round Natalie, and drew her
by main force away from her aunt. She turned deadly pale, and struggled
to release herself. "I am suffering--I am ill--let me go!" He was deaf
to her entreaties. "What! your husband that is to be, treated in this
way? Mustn't I have a kiss?--I will!" He held her closer with one hand,
and, seizing her head with the other, tried to turn her lips to him. She
resisted wi