“What was it?” he asked, as Mr. Churchouse walked beside him homeward.  “Something is altered.  It’s more his manner than his appearance.  Of course, he looks played out after his shock, but it’s not that.  Estelle thinks it’s his black clothes.”

“Stress of mind and anxiety, no doubt.  I spoke to him; but he was rather distant.  Not unfriendly—­he called me ‘Uncle Ernest’ as usual—­but distant.  His mind is entirely preoccupied with business.”

“What about Sabina?”

“I asked him.  He’s writing to her.  She wasn’t at the funeral.  She and her mother kept away at my advice.  But I certainly thought he would come and see them afterwards.  However, the idea hadn’t apparently occurred to him.  His mind is full of other things.  There was a suggestion of strength—­of power—­something new.”

“He must be very strong now,” said Estelle.  “He will have to be strong, because the Mill is all his and everything depends upon him.  Doesn’t Sabina feel she must be strong, too, Mr. Churchouse?”

“Sabina is naturally excited.  But she is also puzzled, because it seems strange that anything should come between her and Raymond at a time like this—­even the terrible death of dear Daniel.  She has been counting on hearing from him, and to-day she felt quite sure he would see her.”

“Is the wedding put off then?”

“I trust not.  She is to hear from him to-morrow.”

* * * * *

Raymond kept his word and before the end of the following day Sabina received a letter.  She had alternated, since Daniel’s sudden death, between fits of depression and elation.  She was cast down, because no communication of any kind had reached her since Raymond hurried off on the day of the accident; and she was elated, because the future must certainly be much more splendid for Raymond now.

She explained his silence easily enough, for much work devolved upon him; but when he did not come to see her on the day of the funeral, she was seriously perturbed and grew excited, unstrung and full of forebodings.  Her mother heard from those who had seen him that Raymond appeared to be abstracted and ‘kept himself to himself’ entirely; which led to anxiety on her part also.  The letter defined the position.

“My dearest Sabina,—­A thing like the death of my brother, with all that it means to me, cannot happen without having very far-reaching results.  You may have noticed for some time before this occurred that I felt uneasy about the future—­not only for your sake, but my own—­and I had long felt that we were doing a very doubtful thing to marry.  However, as circumstances were such then, that I should have been in the gutter if I did not marry, I was going to do so.  There seemed to be no choice, though I felt all the time that I was not doing the fair thing to you, or myself.

“Now the case is altered and I can do the fair thing to you and myself, because circumstances make it possible.  I have got tons of money now, and it is not too much to say that I want you to share it.  But not on the old understanding.  I hate and loathe matrimony and everything to do with it, and now that it is possible to avoid the institution, I intend to do so.