Mr. Landholm bowed.

“And had you heard of it before?”

“No, I had not.”

“And is it a good match?  She is a fine girl, isn’t she?”

“I know really nothing of the matter, Mrs. Nettley —­ I have never seen the gentleman.”

“Really!  Haven’t you? —­ then it was news,” said the lady.  “I thought you were accustomed to see them so often —­ I didn’t think I was telling you anything.  George and I —­ you must forgive us, Mr. Winthrop, people will have such thoughts; they will come in, and you cannot help it —­ I don’t know what’s to keep ’em out, unless one could put bars and gates upon one’s minds, and you can’t well do that; —­ but George and I used to have suspicions of you, Mr. Landholm.  Well, I have interrupted you long enough.  Dear! what windows!  I’m ashamed.  I’ll send the girl up, the first chance you are out of the house.  I told her to come up too; but she is heedless.  I haven’t been to see ’em myself in I don’t know how many days; but you’re always so terribly busy —­ and now I’ve staid twice too long!” —­

And away she hurried, softly closing the door after her.

Mr. Landholm’s quiet study was remarkably quiet for a good while after she went out.  No leaf of his book rustled over; not a foot of his chair grated on the floor, —­ for though the floor did boast a bit of carpet, it lay not where he sat, by the window; and the coals and firebrands fell noiselessly down into the ashes and nobody was reminded that the fire would burn itself out in time if it was let alone.  The morning light grew stronger, and the sunbeams that never got there till between nine and ten o’clock, walked into the room; and they found Winthrop Landholm with his elbow on the table and his head in his hand, where they often were; but with his eyes where they not often were —­ on the floor.  The sunbeams said very softly that it was time to be at the office, but they said it very softly, and Winthrop did not hear them.

He heard however presently a footstep on the stair, in the next story at first, and then mounting the uppermost flight that led to the attic.  A heavy brisk energetic footstep, —­ not Mrs. Nettley’s soft and slow tread, nor the more deliberate one of her brother.  Winthrop listened a moment, and then as the last impatient creak of the boot stopped at his threshold he knew who would open the door.  It was Rufus.

“Here you are.  Why I expected to find you at the office!” was the first cheery exclamation, after the brothers had clasped hands.

“What did you come here to find, then?” said Winthrop.

“Room for my carpet-bag, in the first place; and a pair of slippers, and comfort.  It’s stinging weather, Governor!”

“I know it.  I came down the river the night before last.”

“I shouldn’t think you knew it, for you’ve let your fire go down confoundedly.  Why Winthrop! there’s hardly a spark here!  What have you been thinking about?”