Whether the R. V. portmanteaus brought one or the other of these emotions to the tenants of the Dudley mansion, it might not be easy to settle.  Elsie professed to be pleased with the thought of having an adventurous young stranger, with stories to tell, an inmate of their quiet, not to say dull, family.  Under almost any other circumstances, her father would have been unwilling to take a young fellow of whom he knew so little under his roof; but this was his nephew, and anything that seemed like to amuse or please Elsie was agreeable to him.  He had grown almost desperate, and felt as if any change in the current of her life and feelings might save her from some strange paroxysm of dangerous mental exaltation or sullen perversion of disposition, from which some fearful calamity might come to herself or others.

Dick had been several weeks at the Dudley mansion.  A few days before, he had made a sudden dash for the nearest large city,—­and when the Doctor met him, he was just returning from his visit.

It had been a curious meeting between the two young persons, who had parted so young and after such strange relations with each other.  When Dick first presented himself at the mansion, not one in the house would have known him for the boy who had left them all so suddenly years ago.  He was so dark, partly from his descent, partly from long habits of exposure, that Elsie looked almost fair beside him.  He had something of the family beauty which belonged to his cousin, but his eye had a fierce passion in it, very unlike the cold glitter of Elsie’s.  Like many people of strong and imperious temper, he was soft-voiced and very gentle in his address, when he had no special reason for being otherwise.  He soon found reasons enough to be as amiable as he could force himself to be with his uncle and his cousin.  Elsie was to his fancy.  She had a strange attraction for him, quite unlike anything he had ever known in other women.  There was something, too, in early associations:  when those who parted as children meet as man and woman, there is always a renewal of that early experience which followed the taste of the forbidden fruit,—­a natural blush of consciousness, not without its charm.

Nothing could be more becoming than the behavior of “Richard Venner, Esquire, the guest of Dudley Venner, Esquire, at his noble mansion,” as he was announced in the Court column of the “Rockland Weekly Universe.”  He was pleased to find himself treated with kindness and attention as a relative.  He made himself very agreeable by abundant details concerning the religious, political, social, commercial, and educational progress of the South American cities and states.  He was himself much interested in everything that was going on about the Dudley mansion, walked all over it, noticed its valuable wood-lots with special approbation, was delighted with the grand old house and its furniture, and would not be easy until he had seen all the family silver and heard its history.  In return, he had much to tell of his father, now dead,—­the only one of the Venners, beside themselves, in whose fate his uncle was interested.  With Elsie, he was subdued and almost tender in his manner; with the few visitors whom they saw, shy and silent,—­perhaps a little watchful, if any young man happened to be among them.