"I have great hopes of her, but she is very young. One cannot tell yet how she will develop. But she shows signs of——"
"Hush!" Clara interrupted him on the verge of his precious revelation. They heard footsteps. Was it the dark night and the rough road that caused their loud unevenness?
"I think you'd better go to bed now," she said quietly. "Good-night."
"Good-night," he said, and went up the unlighted stairs. As he reached the landing a bedroom door was opened, and Alexander showed himself in his nightshirt.
"Is he back?" he asked.
"He has just come. I think," he whispered—"I think your mother wished us to be quiet."
"Hush!" said Alexander, "he'll hear nothing," and he banged his door.
Downstairs a key was turned in a lock, and the ashes were raked together in the grate. A few indistinguishable words floated up, and after a long pause there came the violent creaking of the stairs. It was a long time before Edward Webb could sleep.