"No," replied her sister; "we did not go near the village."
"We went," said Minnie, raising her head boldly, "with Mr. Skaife, to see a poor girl he saved from drowning herself yesterday." As she spoke, somehow her eye fixed itself on the squire; her thought in doing so was, to show him, at all events, no distaste on her part to the society of another, however she might avoid him. Was it annoyance at this decision of manner which made him turn so pale, and his voice tremble slightly, as he inquired, "May I ask where?"
"It was poor Widow Burns's daughter," answered Dorcas; "it is a sad affair, but, thank Heaven, Mr. Skaife saved the poor girl's life!"
"Shot! Shot!" called Burton, quitting the window on which he had been leaning, and turning to seek his dog; "here, sir; come here; lie there!" and the animal howled beneath the lash of his master's whip. When he returned to the window he was calm as usual, cold and sinister in appearance.
"Won't you come in, Burton?" asked Juvenal, going to the window, which looked over the wide-spreading lawn, with its old, majestic trees in clusters, and the cattle browsing beneath them; "won't you come in?"
"No, I thank you," he replied carelessly. "I merely strolled this way to inquire about Miss Dalzell's health in person, as I have so seldom the pleasure of finding her at home. Charity, that cold dame, has much to answer for, in depriving us, as she does, of her society."
"You would scarcely term her cold," answered Minnie, "had you witnessed the gratitude of Mary Burns to-day, towards Mr. Skaife."
"'Pon my word!" rejoined he, in a cold, cynical tone, "your parson, Formby (he addressed himself to Juvenal), is a preux chevalier; something new in the colour of his cloth!"
"Is humanity new?—or his act unbecoming his calling?" quietly asked Dorcas.
"I am scarcely competent to answer you. I have a great dislike to display: things quietly done, in my opinion, look most meritorious."