And then, suddenly a queer feeling of intense relief swept over him.  Whether a sentient being or not had appeared to Helen Brabazon, there could be no doubt that what had just happened would make the course of Varick’s wooing more arduous.  He was ashamed to find that this conviction made him suddenly feel oddly light-hearted—­almost, so he told himself, a young man again!

CHAPTER XIV

As he walked into his bedroom, which was pleasantly warm—­for there was a good fire, and the curtains across the three windows were closely drawn—­Dr. Panton told himself that he was indeed beginning the New Year very well.

Half-an-hour ago the whole party, with the exception of Miss Burnaby, who had gone to bed at her usual time, had stood outside the front door under the starry sky while the many clocks of Wyndfell Hall rang out the twelve strokes which said farewell to the Old Year, and brought the New Year in.  Then they had all crowded back again into the hall, and, hand in hand, sung “Auld Lang Syne.”

As everyone had shaken hands and wished each other a Happy New Year, many and sincere had been the good wishes felt and expressed.  Even James Tapster had looked genial and happy for once.  He was beginning to feel as if he would, after all, throw the handkerchief to Bubbles (his own secret, graceful paraphrase for making an offer of marriage).  But as yet Dr. Panton knew nothing of this little under-current in the broad stream which seemed to be flowing so pleasantly before him.  Had he done so, he would have been startled and distressed, for he had already, with a shrewd medical man’s judgment, “sized up” his fellow guest, and found him very much wanting.

Thus not knowing or divining anything of the various human under-currents, save, perhaps, that he guessed Donnington to be in love with Bubbles, Dr. Panton went off to bed in a very cheerful and contented state of mind.  So contented was he that as, with leisurely fingers, he lit the candles on his dressing-table, he incidentally told himself that Wyndfell Hall was the only house in which he had ever stayed which, lacking any other luminant but lamps and candles, yet had amply enough of both!

Lighting a pipe—­for he didn’t feel in the least sleepy—­he drew forward a deep, comfortable armchair close to the fire, and took up a book.  But soon he put it down again, and, staring at the dancing flames, his mind dwelt with retrospective pleasure on the last few hours.

Seated between Helen Brabazon and Bubbles Dunster, he had thoroughly enjoyed the delicious New Year’s Eve dinner composed by Varick’s chef.  Miss Brabazon had admitted to having a headache this evening, and she certainly looked very far from well—­less well than he had thought her to be when they had first seen one another again, after so long an absence, this afternoon.