He was in a unusually communicative mood to-night, and had been superintending the grooming of his horse, and talking to the underling who had waited up to receive him.
He was a little unsteady in his gait as he came into the parlour, and Ellen knew that he had drunk a good deal at Wyncomb.

It was no new thing for her to see him in this condition unhappily, and the shrinking shuddering sensation with which he inspired her to-night was painfully familiar.
"It's very late, father," she said gently, as the bailiff flung himself heavily into an arm-chair by the fire-place.

"If you don't want me for anything particular, I should be glad to go to bed." "Would you, my lass ?" he asked grimly.

"But, you see, I do want you for something particular, something uncommon particular; so there's no call for you to be in a hurry.

Sit down yonder," he added, pointing to the chair opposite his own.