Now and then, on a summer's day, the air is suddenly filled with minute, swarming² insects of the genus ephemera. They come unnoticed and unheralded; the air is thick with them ere one is aware; ears, mouths, and nostrils³ are filled with them, despite all efforts to the contrary; they are variously regarded from the scientific, the poetic⁴, and the moral point of view, or merely as nuisances; by and by, they are gone as they came.

In just such wise, a swarm¹ of rumors⁶ prejudicial to the reputation of Bergan Arling suddenly filled the air of Berganton; coming no one knew whence, but quickly circulating everywhere, to be variously met with surprise, doubt, belief, regret, anger, and indifference⁷. It was averred⁸ that he had gone home deeply in debt, at least to his good friend Doctor Remy, who certainly deserved better treatment at his hands. It was alleged⁹ that he was hopelessly the victim of a depraved appetite for strong drink, although, by the help of the same good friend, he had managed, thus far, to save himself from public exposure. It was affirmed that he had persuaded Astra Lyte into a secret engagement, perhaps for the sake of mere⁵ pastime, perhaps with a view to the ultimate possession of the roof which had so long sheltered him, or to the union of his own with Astra's chances for the future ownership of Bergan Hall. Finally, it was shrewdly suspected that, having grown weary alike of the debts, the engagement, and the measure of constraint¹⁰ which he had hitherto exercised over himself, he had suddenly broken away from all three, with the trumped-up excuse of his mother's illness, and taken himself off, not to return.

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