And so it was all through the remainder of his residence in Ayresford. His relations with his father continued their old undemonstrative course. To please him, he assumed his wonted cheerfulness and spoke of matters political and parochial. And by degrees the old man forgot the cloud he had seen hanging over him and only thought of his approaching departure. Dorothy came to live at Woodlands, so as to grow accustomed to the change, said Sylvester, and he only saw her on his rare visits. He forced himself to be kind and take notice of her as formerly. But the sight of her was a great pain.
Ella he avoided as much as possible, never seeing her alone. One day she was standing by the porch as he came up.
“Is my father in?” he asked.
“He hasn't yet come back from the office.”
“I will go and meet him there,” he replied, and went away forthwith.
“Have you and Syl quarrelled?” asked Miss Lanyon, who had observed the scene from indoors.
Ella laughed; not a happy laugh.
“You are behind the times, Aunt Agatha. Nowadays unceremoniousness is a proof of friendship.”
“I should call it rudeness, my dear,” said Miss Lanyon.
“That's a proof of affection,” said Ella.