“I was inclined to think so at first, but I have heard strange things about him.  However, it is perhaps scarcely fair to talk about him thus.”

All this time we had stood looking out of the window upon the wintry landscape, and I, at least, was oblivious to all else but the fact that I was talking with the woman whose interest for me was paramount, when a lump of coal fell from the grate upon the fire-irons.

We both turned, and saw Herod Voltaire standing by a bookcase with an open volume in his hand.  A disinterested person might have fancied he had not heard a word of our conversation, but I was sure I saw a steely glitter in his eyes, and a cruel smile playing around his mouth.

“Then you go to church this morning?” I said, seeking to turn the conversation as naturally as I could.

“Yes, I always do on Christmas morning,” she replied, as if thankful I had given her an opportunity of speaking about other matters.

“Then I hope I shall have the pleasure of escorting you,” I replied.

Ordinarily I should not have dared to mention such a matter to a lady I had seen so little of, but the request slipped out unthinkingly; and she, no doubt confused by the presence of Voltaire, cheerfully assented.

Our embarrassment came to an end just then, for several others came into the room, and the conversation became general.

As the reader may guess, I was highly elated at the turn matters were taking, and in my heart I began to laugh at Voltaire’s idea of winning Gertrude Forrest.  Moreover, she had willingly consented to walk to church with me, and had expressed a dislike for the man I, in spite of myself, was beginning to fear.

Only a very few of the party found their way to the old time-honoured building to join in the Christmas service that morning.  Some were tired and remained in their rooms, while others enjoyed sitting around the cheerful fires.  I was not sorry, however, for I was thus enabled to enjoy more of Miss Forrest’s society.  Need I say that my morning was truly enjoyable?  I think not.  I found in my companion one who was in every way delightful.  Widely read, she was able to converse about books she loved, and possessing a mind that was untrammelled by society notions, it was refreshing to hear her talk.  Far removed from the giddy society girl, she was yet full of mirth and pleasantness.  Ready witted, she was quick at repartee; and possessing a keen sense of humour, she saw enjoyment in that which to many would be commonplace.

Only one thing marred my happiness.  That was the memory of a cruel look which rested on Voltaire’s face as we went away together.  From that moment I am sure he regarded me as his rival, and from that moment he sought to measure his strength with mine.  I could see in his face that he had guessed my secret, while I fancied I could see, beneath his somewhat cynical demeanour, indications of his love for Gertrude Forrest.