He did not turn many leaves, but he sat with the book in his lap
until long after nightfall. The domestic drama apparently had a very
prosaic ending. Mr. Jocelyn and his family returned for a time to
their seats under the trees, but all except the little children
were apparently under some constraint. The latter soon grew sleepy,
and Mrs. Jocelyn took them in to bed. Belle was not long in following
them, darting an ireful glance at Roger in passing, to which he
responded by a rather mocking smile. "We were having a lovely time
till you came, you old marplot," she muttered under her breath.

Mr. Jocelyn grew more and more quiet until his head sank on
his breast, and it was with difficulty that Mildred aroused him
sufficiently to urge his retiring. At last he took his daughter's
arm and entered the house as if in a dream. The young girl's face
was downcast and averted. As they passed between the youth and the
still glowing west they cast a faint shadow upon him. Though by
no means imaginative, he noted the shadow and thought about it. It
seemed that it still rested on him after they were gone, and that
it might never pass away. His was not a dreamy, fanciful nature,
that could create a score of improbable contingencies, but his
shrewd, strong sense was quick to recognize traces of weakness and
untrustworthiness in those he met, and the impression grew upon him
that Mr. Jocelyn was not a well-balanced man. "If he fails her, I
will not," he murmured. Then with a short laugh he continued, "How
is it that I am ready to admit such a far-reaching claim from one
who repels and dislikes me? I don't know, and I don't care. She
has waked me up; she has the power of calling into action every
faculty I have. Already, I scarcely know myself. I never lived
before, and I feel that I can become a man--perhaps a great man--if