Mr. Brick rose to respond.  Elizabeth rose too then, and faced about upon her companions, giving them this silent notice, for she deigned no word, that she was willing Rose’s pleasure should take its course.  Mr. Satterthwaite was quite ready, and they went home; Elizabeth changed to an automaton again.

But when she got into her own room she sat down, without taking off her bonnet, to think.

“This is that farmer’s boy that father wouldn’t help —­ and that he has managed to separate from himself —­ and from me!  What did I go there for to-day?  Not for my own happiness —­ And now perhaps I shall never see him again.  But I am glad I did go; —­ if that is the last.”

And spring months and summer months succeeded each other; and she did not see him again.

CHAPTER VII

Since he doth lack
Of going back
Little, whose will
Doth urge him to run wrong, or to stand still. 
BEN JONSON.

One of the warm evenings in that summer, when the windows were all open of Winthrop’s attic and the candles flared in the soft breeze from the sea, Rufus came in.  Winthrop only gave him a look and a smile from his papers as he appeared; and Rufus flung himself, or rather dropped down, upon the empty couch where Winnie used to lie.  Perhaps the thought of her came to him, for he looked exceedingly sober; only he had done that ever since he shewed his face at the door.  For some minutes he sat in absorbed contemplation of Winthrop, or of somewhat else; he was certainly looking at him.  Winthrop looked at nothing but his papers; and the rustling of them was all that was heard, beside the soft rush of the wind.

“Always at work?” said Rufus, in a dismal tone, half desponding and wholly disconsolate.

“Try to be. —­”

“Why don’t you snuff those candles?” was the next question, given with a good deal more life.

“I didn’t know you wanted more light,” said Winthrop, stopping to put in order the unruly wicks his brother referred to.

“What are you at there?”

“A long answer in chancery.”

“Ryle’s?”

“No —­ Mr. Eversham’s case.”

“How does Ryle’s business get on?”

“Very satisfactorily.  I’ve got light upon that now.”

“What’s the last thing done?”

“The last thing I did was to file a replication, bringing the cause to an issue for proofs; and proofs are now taking before an Examiner.”

“You have succeeded in every step in that cause?”

“In every step.”

“The steps must have been well taken.”

Winthrop was silent, going on with his ‘answer.’

“How much do you expect you’ll get from them?”

“Can’t tell yet.  I somewhat expect to recover a very large sum.”

“Winthrop —­ I wish I was a lawyer —­” Rufus said presently with a sigh.

“Why?” said his brother calmly.