Suspense by Henry Seton Merriman — Read

In the course of a few hours Theodore Trist was quite at home at Wyl's Hall. These three people had lived together before, and knew each other's little ways. Mrs. Wylie, the personification of comfort -- Theo Trist, possessing no real comprehension of the word -- Brenda, midway between them, with a youthful faculty for adapting herself to either. The narrow limits of a ship soon break down the smaller social barriers, and the memory of life on board the Hermione knitted the inmates of Wyl's Hall in a close and pleasant familiarity. At times, indeed, the union of the three around the fireside or at table seemed to emphasize the absence of the fourth, to suggest the vacancy caused by the stillness of a pleasant voice, the absence of a fine old face. But this slight shadow was not unpleasant, because it had no great contrast to show it up. None of the three was hilarious, but there was a pleasant sociability, which for everyday use is superior to the most brilliant flashes of wit.

Very soon the old, semi-serious style of conversation found place again. Brenda fell into her former habit of listening (too silently, perhaps) to Mrs. Wylie and Theo, accusing them at times of cynicism and worldliness. Old questions came to life again -- unfinished discussions were renewed. Everything seemed to suggest the Hermione.