Luke Ross felt that the words were meant for him, and he tried to catch Sage's eye, but she would not raise her face, and he sat thinking that after all the farmer was right.

There was a dead silence in the room for some minutes, and then Dr Vinnicombe exclaimed--

"Come, Churchwarden, here are Michael Ross and I famishing for a game at whist."

"To be sure," cried the Churchwarden. "Now, girls, let's have the card-table. My word, what a night! It's a nipper indeed. Let's have another log on, old lady, and--What the d.i.c.kens is the matter with those dogs?"

For just then, as the flames and sparks were roaring up the chimney, the two dogs in the yard set up a furious barking, growing so excited, and tearing so at their chains, that the Churchwarden went out to the door, opened it, and a rush of cold, searching wind roared into the room as he shouted--

"Down, Don! Quiet, Rover! Who's there?"

"Port--lock, ahoy!" came in reply, and Rue turned pale, uttered a low moan, and clung to her sister, who trembled in turn as another voice shouted--

"Call off the dogs, Mr Portlock; it is only I."

"Sage," whispered Rue, with her face close to her sister's ear, "let us go away."

"Why, it must be Mr Frank Mallow," cried Mrs Portlock, excitedly, and she glanced in a frightened way at her nieces.

"Yes, that it is," she said, beneath her breath, as a tall, dark man with a heavy beard entered the room, closely followed by Cyril Mallow.

"Beg pardon," he said, in a curious, half-cynical way. "Didn't expect to see me, I suppose. Only got back this afternoon; thought I should like to see all old friends."

"Hearty glad to see you back again," said the Churchwarden, frankly.

"Sit down, Mr Cyril," he continued, as the new-comer shook hands.

"Take a chair, Mr Frank. It's like old times to see you here again."

"Hah! yes. How well you look, farmer, and you too, Mrs Portlock. Miss Sage, I presume? Why, what a change! Grown from a slip of a girl to a charming woman. And how is Miss Rue Portlock?" he said, with mock deference, as he fixed the pale, shrinking face with his dark eyes.

"I am quite well, Mr Frank," said Rue, making an effort to be composed, but not taking the visitor's extended hand. "John, dear," she continued, turning to her husband, "this is Mr Frank Mallow, of whom you have heard me speak."

"Ah! to be sure," said John Berry. "Glad to know my little wife's friends. How are you, sir--how are you?"

Frank Mallow's eyes closed slightly, and he gazed in a half-curious, contemptuous way at John Berry as he shook hands, and then turned to Luke Ross.

"And is this Miss Sage's husband?" he said, laughingly, but in a sarcastic way that turned Sage cold.

"Well, no; I am not Miss Portlock's husband, Mr Mallow," said Luke, smiling, and taking the extended hand, his tone saying plainly enough that he hoped soon to be.

"Ah, well, we all get married some time or other," said the visitor, in a careless, unpleasant way.

"Have you got married then, my lad?" said the Churchwarden, reaching a cigar-box from the fireplace cupboard.

"No, not yet," he replied, "not yet. Cyril and I are particular, eh, Cil, old man? I've come over to fetch myself a wife perhaps. Cigar?

Yes; thanks. Take one, Cil? Hah! how cosy this old room seems! I've spent some pleasant hours here."

"Ay, you've smoked many a pipe with me, Mr Frank. That was when you were in your farming days."

"Farming days?"

"Ay," chuckled the Churchwarden, "sowing thy wild oats, my lad."

"Ha, ha, ha! Why, Portlock, you're as fond of a joke as ever. Ladies, I hope you won't mind so much smoking," he said, puffing away vigorously all the same, while Luke Ross gazed uneasily from one brother to the other, till he caught Cyril looking at him in a haughty, offended manner, when in spite of himself his eyes fell.

"Old folks surprised to see you, eh, sir?" said the Churchwarden, to break the blank in the conversation.

"Yes, preciously," was the short reply.

"Humph!"

Frank Mallow, who was staring at Rue, while his brother was trying to catch her sister's eye, turned at this loud grunt and smiled.

"Oh, you're there!" he exclaimed. "And how is Doctor Vinnicombe?"

"Doctor Vinnicombe is in very good health, and in the best of spirits,"

said the doctor, sarcastically, "for one of his old patients has come back, evidently to pay a heavy bill that his father refused to acknowledge."

"Glad to hear it," said Frank Mallow.

"And how have you got on, Mr Frank?" said the Churchwarden. "I hope you've made a better hit of it than Mr Cyril there, and after all the teaching I gave him about sheep."

"Better hit? Well, I hope so. Nice fellow he was to come out to the other side of the world, and never call upon his brother."

"You took precious good care not to let us know your address," retorted Cyril.

"And what may you have been doing, Mr Frank?" said the Churchwarden, who was beginning to have an uneasy idea that the visitors were not adding to the harmony of the evening, and also recalling the ugly little affairs that had to do with Frank's departure.

"Doing?"

"Yes; sir; did you try tillage?"

"Not I, farmer," exclaimed Frank Mallow, staring hard at Rue, who kept her eyes fixed upon the carpet, or talked in a low voice to Sage, while bluff John Berry listened eagerly for what seemed likely to be an interesting narrative.

"Let's see, Mr Frank, you went to New Zealand?"

"Yes, but I did not stay there; I ran on to Australia, and tried the diggings."

"And did you get any gold, sir?" said John Berry, eagerly.

"Pretty well," replied Frank Mallow; "enough to buy and stock a good sheep farm; and now I'm as warm as some of them out there," he added, with a coa.r.s.e laugh, "and I've come back home for a wife to take care of the house I've built."

"That's right, sir," said John Berry, nodding his head, and smiling at Rue; "nothing like a good wife, sir, to keep you square."

"Then you are not going to stay?" said the Churchwarden.

"Stay! what here? No thanky; I had enough of England when I was here.

Other side of the world for me."