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“I don’t know what has come to your cousin, my dear Alicia,” said my lady. “He is so absent-minded and eccentric as to be quite beyond my comprehension.”

“Indeed,” exclaimed Miss Audley; “and yet I should imagine, from the length of your tete-a-tete, that you had made some effort to understand him.”

“Oh, yes,” said Robert, quietly, “my lady and I understand each other very well; but as it is growing late I will wish you good-evening, ladies. I shall sleep to-night at Mount Stanning, as I have some business to attend to up there, and I will come down and see my uncle to-morrow.”

“What, Robert,” cried Alicia, “you surely won’t go away without seeing papa?”

“Yes, my dear,” answered the young man. “I am a little disturbed by some disagreeable business in which I am very much concerned, and I would rather not see my uncle. Good-night, Alicia. I will come or write to-morrow.”

He pressed his cousin’s hand, bowed to Lady Audley, and walked away under the black shadows of the archway, and out into the quiet avenue beyond the Court.

My lady and Alicia stood watching him until he was out of sight.

“What in goodness’ name is the matter with my Cousin Robert?” exclaimed Miss Audley, impatiently, as the barrister disappeared. “What does he mean by these absurd goings-on? Some disagreeable business that disturbs him, indeed! I suppose the unhappy creature has had a brief forced upon him by some evil-starred attorney, and is sinking into a state of imbecility from a dim consciousness of his own incompetence.”

“Have you ever studied your cousin’s character, Alicia?” asked my lady, very seriously, after a pause.

“Studied his character! No, Lady Audley. Why should I study his character?” said Alicia. “There is very little study required to convince anybody that he is a lazy, selfish Sybarite, who cares for nothing in the world except his own ease and comfort.”

“But have you never thought him eccentric?”

“Eccentric!” repeated Alicia, pursing up her red lips and shrugging up her shoulders. “Well, yes—I believe that is the excuse generally made for such people. I suppose Bob is eccentric.”

“I have never heard you speak of his father and mother,” said my lady, thoughtfully. “Do you remember them?”

“I never saw his mother. She was a Miss Dalrymple, a very dashing girl, who ran away with my uncle, and lost a very handsome fortune in consequence. She died at Nice when poor Bob was five years old.”

“Did you ever hear anything particular about her?”

“How do you mean ‘particular?'” asked Alicia.

“Did you ever hear that she was eccentric—what people call ‘odd?'”

“Oh, no,” said Alicia, laughing. “My aunt was a very reasonable woman, I believe, though she did marry for love. But you must remember that she died before I was born, and I have not, therefore, felt very much curiosity about her.”

“But you recollect your uncle, I suppose.”

“My Uncle Robert?” said Alicia. “Oh, yes, I remember him very well, indeed.”

“Was he eccentric—I mean to say, peculiar in his habits, like your cousin?”

“Yes, I believe Robert inherits all his absurdities from his father. My uncle expressed the same indifference for his fellow-creatures as my cousin, but as he was a good husband, an affectionate father, and a kind master, nobody ever challenged his opinions.”

“But he was eccentric?”

“Yes; I suppose he was generally thought a little eccentric.”

“Ah,” said my lady, gravely, “I thought as much. Do you know, Alicia, that madness is more often transmitted from father to daughter, and from mother to daughter than from mother to son? Your cousin, Robert Audley, is a very handsome young man, and I believe, a very good-hearted young man, but he must be watched, Alicia, for he is mad!”

“Mad!” cried Miss Audley, indignantly; “you are dreaming, my lady, or—or—you are trying to frighten me,” added the young lady, with considerable alarm.

“I only wish to put you on your guard, Alicia,” answered my lady. “Mr. Audley may be as you say, merely eccentric; but he has talked to me this evening in a manner that has filled me with absolute terror, and I believe that he is going mad? I shall speak very seriously to Sir Michael this very night.”