“He always was young-looking,” said his mother.  “I am glad you saw him.  I wish he were not so far off.”

“Well then, mother, here’s an invitation from Mahomet to the mountain, which Mahomet is too shy to make in person.  That house which he and his sister bought at his English Sorrento has just been vacated by his married curate, and he wants you to come and keep it warm till he begins a convalescent home there next spring.”

“How very kind!”

“Oh! mother, you couldn’t,” burst out Armine in consternation.

“Would it be an expense or loss to him, Jock?” said his mother, considering.

“I should say not, unless he be an extremely accomplished dissembler.  If it eased your mind, no doubt he would consent to your paying the rates and taxes.”

“But, mother,” again implored Armine, “you said you would not force me to go to Madeira, with the Evelyns!”

“Are they going to Madeira?” exclaimed Jock, thunderstruck.

“Did you not hear it from Cecil?”

“He has been away on leave for the last week.  This is a sudden resolution.”

“Yes, Fordham goes on coughing, and Sydney has a bad cold, caught at the wedding.  Did you see her?”

“Oh yes, I saw her,” he mechanically answered, while his mother continued—-

“Mrs. Evelyn has been pressing me most kindly to let Armine go with them; but as Dr. Leslie assures me it is not essential, and he seems so much averse to it himself—-”

“You know, mother, how I wish to hold my poor neglected Woodside to the last,” cried Armine.  “Why is my health always to be made the excuse for deserting it?”

“You are not the only reason,” said his mother.  “It is hard to keep Esther in banishment all this time, and I am in constant fear of a row about the shooting with that Gilbert Gould.”

“Has he been at it again!” exclaimed Jock, fiercely.

“You are as bad as Rob,” she said.  “I fully expect a disturbance between them, and I had rather be no party to it.  Oh, I shall be very thankful to get away, I feel like a prisoner on parole.”

“And I feel,” said Armine, “as if all we could do here was too little to expiate past carelessness.”

“Mind, you are talking of mother!” said Jock, firing up.

“I thought she felt with me,” said Armine, meekly.

“So I do, my dear; I ought to have done much better for the place, but our staying on now does no good, and only leads to perplexity and distress.”

“And when can you come, mother?” said Jock.  “The house is at your service instanter.”

“I should like to go to-night, without telling any one or wishing any one good-bye.  No, you need not be afraid, Armie.  The time must depend on your brother’s plans.  St. Cradocke’s is too far off for much running backwards and forwards.  Have you any notion when you may have to leave us, Jock?  You don’t go with Sir Philip?”