against my only having one evening. I shall do my best!


_Thursday night._


I was down in the library, innocently reading a book, when Mr. Carruthers
came in. He looked even better in evening dress, but he appeared
ill-tempered, and no doubt found the situation unpleasant.

"Is not this a beautiful house?" I said, in a velvet voice, to break the
awkward silence, and show him I did not share his unease. "You had not
seen it before, for ages, had you?"

"Not since I was a boy," he answered, trying to be polite. "My aunt
quarrelled with my father--she was the direct heiress of all this--and
married her cousin, my father's younger brother--but you know the family
history, of course----"

"Yes."

"They hated each other, she and my father."

"Mrs. Carruthers hated all her relations," I said, demurely.

"Myself among them?"

"Yes," I said, slowly, and bent forward so that the lamplight should fall
upon my hair. "She said you were too much like herself in character for
you ever to be friends."