Even in my state of terror I had made my plan, and without giving myself a moment to recover my self-possession I knocked at the study door, and, at Mr. Hamilton's rather impatient 'Come in,' entered it with the same sort of feeling that one would enter an ark of refuge.

He laid down his pen in some surprise when he saw me, and then rose quickly from his seat.

'You are ill; you have come to tell me so,' in an anxious voice. 'Don't try to speak this moment: sit down—my—Miss Garston'; but I caught his arm nervously as he seemed about to leave me.

'Don't go away: I must speak to you. I am not ill: only I have had a turn. You may give me some water'; for there was a bottle and glass on the table. He obeyed me at once, and watched me as I tried to take it; but my hand trembled too much: the next moment he had put it to my lips, and had wiped the moisture gently from my forehead.

'It is only faintness; it will pass off directly,' he said quietly. 'I will not leave you; but I have some sal volatile in that cupboard, and I think you will be the better for it.' And he mixed me some, and stood by me without speaking until the colour came back to my face. 'You are better now, Ursula—I mean,' biting his lips—'well, never mind. Do you feel a little less shaky?'

'Yes, thank you. I did not mean to be so foolish, but it was dark, and I got frightened and nervous; and oh, Mr. Hamilton, I must not lose time, or they will be coming in.'

'Who will be coming in?' he asked, rather bewildered at this. 'There is no one out, is there?'

'Yes, Miss Darrell and Leah. I heard them talking in "Conspiracy Corner"; you know that seat in the asphalt walk?'

'Well?' regarding me with an astonished air.

'Mr. Hamilton, I am better now. I am not frightened any longer now I am with you. Will you please call Leah when she comes in from the garden? I want to speak to her in your presence. I have a most serious charge to make against her and against your cousin Miss Darrell. It relates,' and here I felt my lips getting white again,—'it relates to your brother Eric.'

He started, and an expression of pain crossed his face,—a sudden look of fear, as though he dreaded what I might have to tell him; but the next moment he was thinking only of me.

'You shall speak to Leah to-morrow,' he said gently; 'it is late now,—nearly ten o'clock,—and you are ill, and had better go to bed and rest yourself. I can wait until to-morrow,' taking my cold hand.

But I would not be silenced. I implored him earnestly to do this for me,—to summon Leah into the study, but not to let Miss Darrell know.

'I suppose you think you could not sleep until you had relieved your mind,' he said, looking at me attentively. 'Well, they are coming in now. Leah is fastening the door. Finish that sal volatile while I fetch her.'

I took it at a draught. But Mr. Hamilton's kindness had been my best restorative: I was no longer faint or miserable: he had cheered and comforted me.

I heard Leah's voice approaching the study door with perfect calmness.

'Miss Etta has gone up to bed, sir,' I heard her say; 'she has a headache: that is what makes her eyes so weak.'

'I should have said myself that she was crying,' returned Mr. Hamilton drily. 'Come in here a moment, Leah; I want to speak to you.'

She did not see me until the door was closed behind her, and then I saw her glance at me uneasily. Mr. Hamilton had evidently not prepared her for my presence in the study.

'Did you or Miss Garston wish to speak to me, sir?' she asked, with a veiled insolence of manner that she had shown to me lately; but I could see that no suspicion of the truth had dawned on her.

'It is I who wish to speak to you, Leah,' I returned severely; 'and I have asked your master to send for you that I might speak in his presence. Mr. Hamilton, I am going to repeat the conversation that I have just overheard between Leah and her mistress when they were in the seat in the asphalt walk: you shall hear it from my lips word for word.'

I never saw a countenance change as Leah's did that moment: her ordinary sallow complexion became a sort of dead-white; from insolence, her manner grew cringing, almost abject; the shock deprived her of all power of speech; only directly I began she caught hold of my gown with both hands, as though to implore me to stop; but Mr. Hamilton shook off her touch angrily, and asked her if it looked as though she were an honest woman to be so afraid of her own words. And then the sullen look came back to her face and never left it again.

I repeated every word. I do not believe I omitted a sentence, except that part that referred to Uncle Max. I could see Leah shrink and collapse as I mentioned her convict-brother, and such a gleam of fierce concentrated hatred shot from beneath her drooping lids that Mr. Hamilton instinctively moved to my side; but a low groan escaped him when I repeated Leah's words about the cheque. 'Good heavens! do you mean that Eric never took it?' he exclaimed, in a horror-stricken tone; but the woman merely raised her eyes and looked at him, and he was silent again until I had finished.

There was a moment's ominous silence after that: perhaps Mr. Hamilton was praying for self-control; he had grown frightfully pale, and yet he was a man who rarely changed colour: the veins on his forehead were swollen, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse with repressed passion.

'What have you to say for yourself, Leah? Do you know I could indict you for conspiracy and conniving at theft?'

'I know that very well,' returned the woman, trying to brave it out; but she could not meet his indignant look. 'But it is your own flesh and blood that is in fault here. Miss Etta is more to blame than I.'

Mr. Hamilton crossed the room and locked the door, putting the key coolly in his pocket; then he made me sit down,—for I had been standing all this time,—and, as though to enforce obedience, he kept his hand on my arm. I could see Leah looking about her as though she were caught in a trap: her light-coloured eyes had a scintillating look of fear in them.

'Now, Leah,' observed her master, in a terrible voice, 'if you are to expect any mercy at my hand you will make a clean breast; but first you will answer my question: Has Miss Garston repeated the conversation between you and Miss Etta correctly?'

'Yes, I believe so,' very sullenly.

'You saw Miss Etta take the cheque with your own eyes the night before Mr. Eric left home?'

'Yes.' Then, as though these questions tortured her, she said doggedly—

'Look here, sir; I am caught in a trap, and there is no getting out of it. I have lost my place and my character, thanks to Miss Garston,'—another vindictive look at me. 'If you will promise like a gentleman not to take advantage of my evidence, I will tell you all about it.'

'I will make no promises,' he returned, in the same stern voice; 'but if you do not speak I will send for the police at once, and have you up before a magistrate. You have connived at theft; that will be sufficient to criminate you.'

'I know all about that,' was the unflinching answer; 'and I know for the old mistress's sake you will be glad to hush it all up: it would not be pleasant to bring your own cousin before a magistrate, especially after promising the old mistress on her death-bed to be as good to Miss Etta as though she were your own sister.'

I saw the shadow of some sorrowful recollection cross his face as she said this. I had heard from Max how dearly he had loved his aunt Margaret: though her daughter had wrought such evil in his life, he would still seek to shield her. Leah knew this too, and took advantage of her knowledge in her crafty manner.

'It would be best to tell you all, for Mr. Eric's sake. I know Miss Etta will be safe with you. She has done a deal of mischief since she has been under your roof. Somehow crooked ways come natural to her: the old mistress knew that, for she once said to me towards the last, "Leah, I am afraid my poor child has got some twist or warp in her nature; but I hope my nephew will never find out her want of straightforwardness." And she begged me, with tears in her eyes, to watch over her and try to influence her, although I was only a servant; and for a little while I tried, only the devil tempted me, for the sake of poor Bob.'

'Bob is the name of your brother who is at Millbank?' asked Mr. Hamilton, in the same hard voice.

'Yes, sir; he got into a bit of trouble through mixing with bad companions. But there,'—with a sudden fierce light in her eyes that reminded me of a tigress protecting her young,—'I am not going to talk of Bob: lads will get into trouble sometimes. If Mr. Eric had not been so interfering at that time, ordering Bob off the premises whenever he caught sight of him, and calling him a good-for-nothing loafer and all sorts of hard names,—why, he gave Bob a black eye one day when he was doing nothing but shying stones at the birds in the kitchen-garden,—if it had not been for Mr. Eric's treatment of Bob I might have acted better by him.'

'Will you keep to the subject, Leah?' observed her master, in a warning voice. 'I wish to hear how that cheque was taken from my study that night.'

'Well, sir, if you must know,' returned Leah reluctantly, 'Miss Etta was in a bit of a worry about money just then: she had got the accounts wrong somehow, and there was a heavy butcher's bill to be paid. She had let it run on too long, and all the time you believed it was settled every week: it was partly your fault, because you so seldom looked at the accounts, and was always trusting her with large sums of money. Miss Etta did not mean to be dishonest, but she was extravagant, and sometimes her dressmaker refused to wait for the money, and sometimes her milliner threatened to dun her; but she would quiet them a bit with a five- or ten-pound note filched from the housekeeping, always meaning, as she said, to pay it back when she drew her quarterly allowance.

'I used to know of these doings of hers, for often and often she has sent me to pacify them with promises. I told her sometimes that she would do it once too often, but she always said it was for the last time.

'She got afraid to tell me at last, but I knew all about the butcher's bill, for Mr. Dryden had been up to the house asking to see you, as he wanted his account settled. You were out when he called, but I never saw Miss Etta in such a fright: she had a fit of hysterics in her own room after he had left the house, and I had trouble enough to pacify her. She said if you found out that Dryden's account had not been settled for three months that you would never trust her again; that she was afraid Mr. Eric suspected her, and that she did not feel safe with him, and a great deal more that I cannot remember.

'It ended with her making up her mind to pawn most of her jewellery, and we arranged that Bob should manage the business. He was up at the cottage for a night or two, though no one was aware of that fact, for he kept close, for fear Mr. Eric should spy upon him.

'He slept at the cottage the very night the cheque was stolen from the study'; but as Leah paused here Mr. Hamilton lifted his head from his hands and bade her impatiently go on with the history of that night.



CHAPTER XLIV

LEAH'S CONFESSION

'You know what happened that day, sir,' observed Leah, hesitating a moment, for even her hard nature felt some compunction at the look of suffering on her master's face. She had eaten his bread for years, and had deceived and duped him; but she must have felt remorse stirring in her as she saw him drop his head on his clasped hands again, as though he were compelling himself to listen without interruption.

'You had been talking to Mr. Eric a long time in the study, Miss Etta told me; he had been going on like mad about Mr. Edgar Brown, and having to go to Mr. Armstrong's office; but you had been very firm, and had refused to hear any more, and he had flung off to his own room in one of his passions. Miss Gladys had followed him, and I heard him telling her that he had forgotten himself and struck you, and that you had turned him out of the study, and that he was in difficulties and must have money, for Mr. Edgar had got him into some trouble.'

'You heard this by listening at Mr. Eric's door, for Miss Gladys saw you,' I observed, not willing to let this pass.

'What has that got to do with it?' she returned rudely. 'I am speaking to the master, not you': but she grew a shade paler as I spoke. 'You were up late that night, sir; I was waiting to speak to Miss Etta, and encountered you in the passage. I went back to my own room for a little while, and then I knocked at her door; but there was no answer. I could see the room was dark, but I could hardly believe she was asleep: so I went to the bed and called Miss Etta, but I very soon found she was not there: her gown was on the couch and her dressing-gown missing from its place.

'I had a notion that I might as well follow her, for somehow I guessed that she had gone to the study; but I was certainly not prepared to see Mr. Eric stooping over your desk. He had a letter in his hand, and had just put down his chamber candlestick. All at once it flashed upon my mind that Miss Etta had told me that you had received a large cheque that night, and that you were going up to London the next day to cash it, and she hoped Dryden would not call again before you went. She said it quite casually, and I am sure then she had not thought of helping herself. Then the thought must have come to her all of a sudden.

'I remembered the cheque, and for an instant I suspected Mr. Eric. But as I was watching him I saw the curtain of one of the windows move, and I had a glimpse of yellow embroidery that certainly belonged to Miss Etta's dressing-gown. In a moment I grasped the truth: she had taken the cheque to settle Dryden's bill. But I must make myself certain of the fact: so I asked Mr. Eric, rather roughly, what he was doing, and he retorted by bidding me mind my own business.

'He had laid his letter on the desk, but when he had gone I walked up straight to the window, and nearly frightened Miss Etta into a fit by asking her what she had done with the cheque. She was grovelling on her knees before me in a moment, calling me her dear Leah and imploring me to shield her. I was very fierce with her at first, and was for putting it back again, until she told me, trembling all over, that she had endorsed it. She had copied your writing, and only an expert could have told the difference.

'"It is too late, Leah," she kept saying; "we cannot hide it from Giles now, and I must have the money, and you must help me to get it." And then she whispered that I should have some of it for Bob.

'"It is a nasty bit of business, Miss Etta," I replied, for I did not want to spare her; "it is forgery, that is what they would call it in a court of law"; but she would not let me finish, but flung herself upon me with a suppressed scream, and I could not shake her off. She kept saying that she would destroy herself if I would not help her: so I turned it over in my mind. I wanted money for Bob, and—well, sir, the devil had a deal to do with that night's business. I had settled it all before an hour was over. Bob would go up to London with the cheque, and cash it at the bank: he was tall and fair, and a suit of Mr. Eric's old clothes would make him quite the gentleman, and no one would notice the scar; when he was safely off and you missed the cheque there would be little trouble in casting the blame on Mr. Eric. I had taken care to place the letter in the desk, and I had plenty of circumstantial evidence to offer.

'Well, you know the rest, sir,—how you called Miss Etta into your study, and how she begged you to send for me. I had my story all ready,—my fear of thieves, and how I saw Mr. Eric standing with his hand in your desk. Of course the cheque could not be found: no one believed the poor young gentleman's ravings, especially after his talk with Miss Gladys. We took care that the telegram should not be sent too soon. Bob was on his way back by then, and before evening Dryden had his money, and Bob was safe in Clerkenwell. What is the good of my repeating it all? I shielded Miss Etta at Mr. Eric's expense; and, though I was sorry enough to drive him away from his home, we had to look to our own safety, and Miss Etta was nearly out of her mind with remorse and terror.' But here Mr. Hamilton's voice interrupted her harshly.

'Wait a moment, woman: have you ever since that day heard anything of that unfortunate boy?'

To my surprise Leah hesitated. 'Miss Etta believes that he is dead, sir; but I can't help differing from her, though I never told her the reason; but I have fancied more than once,—indeed I am speaking the truth now, sir,' as he darted a meaning look at her, 'I have no motive to do otherwise.—I have fancied that I have seen some one very like Mr. Eric lurking about the road on a dark night. Once I was nearly sure it was Mr. Eric, though he wore a workman's dress as a disguise. He was looking at the windows; the blind was up in the study, and Miss Gladys was there with Mr. Cunliffe; he had made her laugh about something. It was a warm night, and rather wet, and the window was open; I was just shutting it when I caught sight of him, and nearly called out; but he turned away quickly, and hid himself in the shrubbery, and though I went out to look for him I was too late, for I could see him walking down the road.'

'You are sure it was Mr. Eric.' Oh, the look of intense relief on Mr. Hamilton's face! He must have believed him dead all this time.

'I am nearly sure, sir. I saw him again in town. I was passing the Albert Memorial when I looked up at one of the fine houses opposite, and saw a young workman on the balcony with a painter's brush in his hand: the sun was shining full on his face. I saw him plainly then.'

Mr. Hamilton started from his seat. 'If this be true!—my father's son gaining his bread as a house-painter!'

'It is true,' I whispered; 'for I saw him myself, and told Gladys.'

'You saw him!—you!' with an air of utter incredulity.

'Yes; and I tried to speak to him. He was so like the picture in Gladys's room, I thought it must be Eric. But he would not hear me, and in a moment he was gone. The men called him Jack Poynter, and said he was a gentleman, but no one knew where he lived. Oh, I have tried so hard to find him for you, but he will not be found.'

'And you did not tell me of this,' very reproachfully.

'Gladys would not let me tell you,' I returned: 'we could not be sure, and—' But he put up his hand to stop me.

'That will do,' in a tone of suppressed grief that went to my heart. 'I will not wrong you if I can help it; no doubt you did it for the best; you did not willingly deceive me.'

'Never! I have never deceived you, Mr. Hamilton.'

'Not intentionally. I will do you justice even now; but, oh,'—and here he clinched his right hand, and I saw the veins on it stand out like whip-cord,—'how I have been betrayed! Those I have trusted have brought trouble and confusion in my household; and, good God! they are women, and I cannot curse them.'

I saw Leah quail beneath this burst of most righteous indignation. The blinding tears rushed to my eyes as I heard him: in spite of his sternness, he had been so simple and so unsuspicious. He trusted people so fully, he was so generous in his confidence, and yet the woman he loved had played him false, and the pitiful creatures he had sheltered under his roof had hatched this conspiracy against his peace.

'You can leave me now,' he continued harshly, turning to Leah. 'I will not trust myself to say more to you. If you receive mercy and not justice at my hands, it is because your confederate is even more guilty than you. I cannot spare the one without letting the other go unpunished. To-morrow morning, before the household is up, you and everything belonging to you shall leave this house. If you ever set foot in Heathfield again it will be at your own peril. Go up to your own room now and pack your boxes; I shall take the precaution of turning the key in your door to prevent your holding communication with any member of my household.'

'I give you my word, sir—' began Leah, turning visibly pale at the idea of finding herself a prisoner.

'Your word!' was the disdainful reply; and then he pointed to the door. 'Go at once!' But she still lingered. There was a spark of good even in this woman. She was unwilling to quit our presence without knowing what was to become of her mistress.

'You will not be hard on Miss Etta, sir? She has done wrong, but she is a poor creature, and—' But Mr. Hamilton walked to the door and threw it open with a gesture that compelled obedience.

The next moment, however, he recoiled with a low exclamation of horror; for there, drawn up against the wall, in a strange half-crouching attitude, as though petrified with terror, was his miserable cousin.

I heard Leah's shocked 'Miss Etta! How could you be so mad?' And then Mr. Hamilton put out his hand, as though to forbid approach; but with a cry of despair Miss Darrell seemed to sink to the ground, and held him convulsively round the knees, so that he could not free himself.

'Get up, Etta!' he said indignantly. 'It is not to me you have to kneel'; for he thought her attitude one of supplication. But I knew better. She had not strength to stand or support herself, and I passed behind him quickly and went to her help.

'You cannot speak to him like that, Miss Darrell. He will not hear you.' But, though Leah assisted me, we had some difficulty in inducing her to relax her frantic grip. And even when we placed her in a chair she seemed as though she would sink again on the ground. She was trembling all over, her teeth chattering; the muscles of her face worked convulsively.

'Giles, Giles,' she screamed, as he seemed about to leave her, 'you may kill me if you like, but you shall not look at me like this.' But, without vouchsafing her any answer, he turned to me.

'Will you wait with my cousin a moment? I will be back directly.' I nodded assent. I knew he wished to see Leah safely in her room, but as he closed the door Miss Darrell clutched my arm. She seemed really beside herself.

'Where has he gone? Will he fetch the police, Miss Garston? Will they put me in prison for it?'

'No,' I returned sternly. 'You know you are safe with him. He will not hurt a hair of your head, because you are a woman, and his own flesh and blood.'

'But he will banish me from his house!' she moaned. 'He will never forgive me or let me see his face again. He will tell—oh, I cannot bear it!'—her words strangled by a hoarse scream. 'I cannot and will not bear it.'

I put my hand on her shoulder. 'You must control yourself,' I said coldly. 'Would you wish Mr. Hamilton to treat you as a mad woman? Listen to me, Miss Darrell. One part of your secret is safe with me. Try and restrain yourself, and I will promise you that it shall never pass my lips.'

Even in her hysterical excitement she understood me, and a more human expression came into her hard, glaring eyes. 'Say it again; promise me,' she moaned. 'I hate you, but I know you are to be trusted.'

'If you behave yourself and try to control your feelings a little,' I returned slowly, 'I will say nothing about Uncle Max.' But at the name she covered her face with her hands and rocked herself in agony. In spite of all her sins I pitied her then.

At that moment Mr. Hamilton returned; but before he could speak I said quickly—

'Your cousin is not in a condition to listen to you to-night, and it is very late: I am going to take her up to her room and do what I can to help her. Will you allow us to go?'

He looked at her and then at me. His face was hard and sombre; there was no relenting there. 'Perhaps it will be better,' he returned slowly. 'Yes, you may go, but do not stay long with her. I may want to speak to you again.'

'Not to-night,' I remonstrated; for I could see he was oblivious of the time, and it was near midnight. 'To-morrow morning, as early as you like; but I cannot come down again.'

'Oh, I see,' the meaning of my words dawning upon him. 'To-morrow morning, then. Take her away now.' And, without another glance, he walked away to his study table.

'Come, Miss Darrell,' I whispered, touching her; and she rose reluctantly. 'Giles,—let me say one word to him,' said she, trying to follow him feebly, but I recalled her sternly and made her follow me. I had no fear of her now. Leah, whom I dreaded, was locked safely in her room, and this poor miserable woman was harmless enough.

She broke into hysterical sobs and moans when I got her into her own room. I was afraid Gladys might hear her, and I insisted on her showing more self-control. My sharp words had their effect after a time, but it was impossible to induce her to undress or go to bed. She had flung herself across the foot and lay crouched up in a heap, with all the delicate embroidery of her French dressing-gown crushed under her. When she was quieter I put pillows under her head and covered her up warmly, and then sat down to watch her.

I was about to leave the room once to fetch something I wanted, when she suddenly struggled into a sitting posture, and begged me, in a voice of horror, not to leave her.

'Leah will murder me if you do!' she cried. 'She has frightened me often,—she says such things,—oh, you do not know! I should never have been so bad but for Leah!'

'I shall not be long; and Leah is locked in her room; Mr. Hamilton has the key,' I returned quietly. But it was with difficulty that she would let me go. I suppose even criminals feel the need of sympathy. Miss Darrell hated me in her heart, had always hated me, but the sight of even an unloved human face was better than solitude. No wonder with such thoughts people go mad sometimes.

I was surprised to see Mr. Hamilton walking up and down the long passage, as though he were keeping guard. He was going to let me pass him without a word, but I stopped and asked what he was doing.

'I was waiting until you were safe in your own room,' was the reply. 'What has kept you so long?'

'I must go back again,' I returned quickly; 'she is not fit to be left alone. I am not afraid of her now, Mr. Hamilton: she can do me no harm. Please do not watch any longer.'

'You were ill: have you forgotten that? I ought not to allow you to make yourself worse. Why,' with a sort of impatience visible in his manner, 'need you be troubled about our miserable affairs?'

'Let me go back for a little while,' I pleaded; for I knew if he ordered me into my own room I should be obliged to obey him. 'It keeps her in check, seeing me there: she is so exhausted that she must sleep soon; and then I will lie down.' I suppose he thought there was no help for it, for he drew back for me to pass; but I was grieved to hear his footsteps for a long time after that pacing slowly up and down, and it was more for his sake than my own that I was glad when Miss Darrell's moans ceased, and the more quiet regular breathing proved to me that she was asleep.

The passage was empty when I came out, and the first faint streak of dawn was visible. It was too late then to think of going to bed. I lay down, dressed as I was, and slept for a couple of hours; then the sunshine woke me, and I got up and took my bath and felt refreshed.

Chatty brought me my tea early, and told me that Mr. Hamilton was walking in the garden. 'And do you know, ma'am,' observed the girl breathlessly, 'something strange must have happened since last evening; for when I looked out of my window before six this morning I saw master standing before the door, and there was Leah, in her bonnet, speaking to him, and she went off with Pierson, wheeling off her boxes on his truck. I do believe she has really gone, ma'am, and not a creature in the house knows it.'

'Never mind: it is not our business, Chatty; but I think I will go and speak to your master when I have finished my tea.'

'I was to give you a message, ma'am,—that he would be glad if you could join him in the garden as soon as you were up, as he had to go some distance, and he wanted to tell you about it.' I put down my cup at once when I heard this, and hurried out into the garden.

Mr. Hamilton was pacing up and down the asphalt walk as he had paced the passage last night. He did not quicken his steps when he saw me, but walked towards me slowly, with the gait of a man who has a load on his mind.

'I hardly expected you so early. Have you had any rest at all?' looking at me rather anxiously.

'Yes, thank you; I have slept for two hours. But you have not, Mr. Hamilton'; for he was looking wretchedly worn and ill.

'Was it likely that I could sleep?' he returned impatiently. 'But I have no time to waste. Atkinson will be round here directly with the dog-cart. I am going off to Liverpool by the 12.10 train.'

'To Liverpool?' in unfeigned surprise.

'Yes; I have been thinking all night what is to be done about my unfortunate cousin. She is dependent on me, and I cannot send her away without finding her a home. That home,' pausing as though to give emphasis to his words, 'can never be under my roof again.'

'I suppose not.'

'The sin is of too black a dye for me to bring myself to forgive her. If I were to say that I forgive her I should lie.' And here his face became dark again. 'She has disgraced that poor boy Eric, and driven him away from his home; she has made Gladys's life wretched: her whole existence must have been a tissue of deceit and treachery. How could I sleep when I was trying to disentangle this mesh of deception and lies? how do I know when she has been true or when wholly false?'

'I fear there has been little truth spoken to you, Mr. Hamilton.' I was thinking of Gladys when I said that, but something in my words seemed to strike him.

'Is there anything else I ought to know? But no, I have no time for that: I must try and make some arrangements at once: she cannot break bread with us again. The people I want to find are old patients of mine. I was able to serve them once: I feel as though I have a claim on them.'

'But you will be back soon?' for I could not bear him to leave us alone.

'To-morrow morning. I will take the night train up, but I shall be detained in London. Take care of Gladys for me, Miss Garston. Do not tell her more than you think necessary. Do not let Etta see her, if you can help it; but I know you will act for the best.' Then, as he looked at me, his face softened for a moment. 'I wish I had not to leave you; but you could send for Mr. Cunliffe.'

'Oh, there will be no need for that,' I returned hastily, for the thought of the wretched woman upstairs would prevent me from sending for Uncle Max. 'Come back as quickly as you can, and I will do my best for Gladys.'

'I know it. I can trust you,' he replied, very gently. 'Take care of yourself also.' Then, as the wheels of the dog-cart sounded on the gravel, he held out his hand to me gravely, and then turned away. A moment afterwards I heard his voice speaking to Atkinson, and as I entered the shrubbery Pierson was fastening the gate after them.



CHAPTER XLV

'THIS HOME IS YOURS NO LONGER'

There are long gray days in every one's life.

I think that day was the longest that I ever spent: it seemed as though the morning would never merge into afternoon, or the afternoon into evening. Of the night I could not judge, for I slept as only weary youth can sleep.

Sheer humanity, the mere instinct of womankind, had obliged me to watch by Miss Darrell through the previous night: for some hours her hysterical state had bordered on frenzy. I knew sleep was the best restorative in such cases: she would wake quieter. There would be no actual need for my services, and unless she sent for me I thought it better to leave her alone: she was only suffering the penalty of her own sin, the shame of detected guilt. There was no sign of real penitence to give me hope for the future.

I found Gladys awake when I returned from the garden: in spite of my anxiety, it gave me intense pleasure to hear her greeting words.

'Oh, Ursula, come and kiss me; it is good morning indeed. I woke so happy; everything is so lovely,—the sunshine, and the birds, and the flowers!' And, with a smile, 'I wished somebody could have seen—"my thoughts of Max."' And then, still holding me fast, 'I do not forget my poor boy, in spite of my happiness, but something tells me that Eric will soon come back.'

'He might have been here now,' I grumbled, 'if you had allowed me to tell your brother'; for those few reproachful words haunted me.

'Yes, dear; I know I was wrong,' she answered, with sweet candour. 'Giles is so kind now that I cannot think why I was so reserved with him; but of course,' flushing a little, 'I was afraid of Etta.'

'I suppose that was the reason,' I returned, busying myself about the room; for I did not care to pursue the subject. Mr. Hamilton's few words had convinced me that he thought it would be wiser to leave Gladys in ignorance of what was going on until Miss Darrell was out of the house. She had borne so much, and was still weak and unfit for any great excitement. My great fear was lest Miss Darrell should force her way into Gladys's presence and disturb her by a scene; and this fear kept me anxious and uneasy all day.

Gladys was a trifle restless; she wanted a drive again, and when I made her brother's absence a pretext for refusing this, she pleaded for a stroll in the garden. It was with great difficulty that I at last induced her to remain quietly in her room. But when she saw that I was really serious she gave up her wishes very sweetly, and consoled herself by writing to Max, in answer to a letter that he had sent under cover to me.

It was nearly noon before Chatty brought me a message that Miss Darrell was just up and dressed, and wished to speak to me; and I went at once to her.

The usually luxurious room had an untidy and forlorn aspect. The crumpled Indian dressing-gown and the breakfast-tray littered the couch; ornaments, jewellery, and brushes strewed the dressing-table. Miss Darrell was sitting in an easy-chair by the open window. She did not move or glance as I entered in the full light. She looked pinched and old and plain. Her eyelids were swollen; her complexion had a yellowish whiteness; as I stood opposite to her, I could see gray hairs in the smooth dark head; before many years were over Miss Darrell would look an old woman. I could not help wondering, as I looked at her, how any one could have called her handsome.

'Chatty says Leah has gone,' she said, in a voice fretful with misery. 'I told her that that was too good news to be true. Is it true, Miss Garston?'

'Yes; she has gone.'

'I am glad of it,' with a vixenish sharpness that surprised me. 'I hated that woman, and yet I was afraid of her too: she got me in her toils, and then I was helpless. Where has Giles gone, Miss Garston? Chatty said he went off in a dog-cart with his portmanteau.'

How I wished Chatty would hold her tongue sometimes! but most likely Miss Darrell had questioned her.

'Mr. Hamilton's business is not our affair,' I returned coldly.

'That means I am not to ask; but all the same you are in his secret,' with one of her old sneers. 'Will he be back to-night?'

'No, not to-night; to-morrow morning early.'

'That is all I want to know, Miss Garston,' hesitating a little nervously. 'I have never liked you, but all the same I have not injured you.'

'Have you not, Miss Darrell?'

'No,' very uneasily; but she did not meet my eyes. 'I defy you to prove that I have. Still, if I were your enemy, ought you not to heap coals of fire on my head?'

'Possibly.'

My coolness seemed to frighten her; she lost her sullen self-possession.

'Have you no heart?' she said passionately. 'Will you not hold up a finger to help me? You have influence with Giles; do not deny it. If you ask him to keep me here he will not refuse you, and you will make me your slave for life.'

I heard this proposition with disgust. She could cringe to me whom she hated. I shook my head, feeling unable to answer her.

'I could help you,' she persisted, fixing her miserable eyes on me. 'Oh, I know what you want: you cannot hide from me that you are unhappy. I know where the hindrance lies; one word from me would bring Giles to your feet. Am I to say that word?'

'No,' I returned indignantly. 'Do you think that I would owe anything to you? I would rather be unhappy all my life than be under such an obligation. You are powerless to harm me, Miss Darrell; your plots are nothing to me.'

'And yet a word from me would bring him to your feet.'

'I do not want him there,' I replied, irritated at this persistence. 'I do not wish you to mention his name to me; if you do so again I will leave you.'

'On your head be your own obstinacy,' she returned angrily; but I could see the despair in her eyes, and I answered that.

'Miss Darrell,' I went on, more gently, 'I cannot help you in this. How could I ask Mr. Hamilton to keep you under his roof, knowing that you have poisoned his domestic happiness? Even if I could be so mad or foolish, would he be likely to listen to me?'

'He would listen to you,' half crying: 'you know he worships the ground you walk on.'

I tried to keep back the rebellious colour that rose to my face at her words.

'Do not cheat yourself with this insane belief,' I returned quietly. 'Mr. Hamilton is inexorable when he has decided on anything.'

'Inexorable! you may well say so!' rocking herself in an uncontrollable excitement. 'Giles is hard,—cruel in his wrath: he will send me away and never see me again.' And now the tears began to flow.

'Miss Darrell,' I continued pityingly, 'for your own sake listen to me a moment. You have failed most miserably in the past: let the future years be years of repentance and atonement. Mr. Hamilton will not forgive until you have proved yourself worthy of forgiveness: remember you owe the future to him.'

She stared at me for a moment as though my words held some hope for her; then she turned her back on me and went on rocking herself. 'Too late!' I heard her mutter: 'I cannot be good without him.' And, with a strange sinking of heart, I left the room.

She could bring him to my feet with a word. Was this the truth, or only an idle boast? No matter; I would not owe even his love to this woman. 'I can live without you, Giles,—my Giles,' I whispered; but hot tears burnt my cheeks as I spoke.

In the afternoon I saw Miss Darrell pacing up and down the asphalt walk. Gladys saw her too, and turned away from the window rather nervously. 'How restless Etta seems!' she said once; but I made no answer. Towards evening I heard her footsteps perambulating the long passage, and softly turned the key in the lock without Gladys noticing the movement. Gladys noticed very little in that sweet dreamy mood that had come to her; her own thoughts occupied her; her lover's letter had more than contented her.

About ten o'clock I went in search of Chatty, and came face to face with Miss Darrell. She was in her crumpled yellow dressing-gown, and her dark hair hung over her shoulders; her eyes looked bright and strange. I moved back a step and laid my hand on the handle.

She greeted this action with a disagreeable laugh.

'I suppose you heard me trying the door just now. Yes, I wanted to see Gladys; I wished to make some one feel as wretched as I do myself; but you were too quick for me. Do you always keep your patients under lock and key?'

'Sometimes,' laconically, for I disliked her manner more than ever to-night: it was not the first time that I had fancied that she had had recourse to some form of narcotic. 'Why do you not go to bed, Miss Darrell?'

'Perhaps I shall when I have thoroughly tired myself. These passages have rather a ghastly look: they remind me of Leah, too,' with a shudder. 'Good-night, Miss Garston; pleasant dreams to you. I suppose you have not thought better of what I said about Giles?'

'No, certainly not,' retreating into my room and locking the door in a panic. I heard a husky laugh answer me. Perhaps last night's watching had tired my nerves, for it was long before I could compose myself to sleep.

The night passed quietly, and I woke, refreshed, to the sound of summer rain pattering on the shrubs. The little oak avenue looked wet and dreary; but no amount of rain or outward dreariness could damp me, with the expectation of Mr. Hamilton's return; and I helped Chatty arrange our rooms with great cheerfulness.

He came back earlier than I expected. I had hardly finished settling Gladys for the day,—she took great pains with her toilet now, and was hard to please in the matter of ruffles and ornaments,—when Chatty told me that he wished to speak to me a moment.

I made some excuse and joined him without delay. He looked much as he had the previous morning,—very worn and tired, and his eyes a little sunken; but he greeted me quietly, and even kindly; he asked me if I felt better, and how Gladys was. I was rather ashamed of my nervous manner of answering, but that odious speech of Miss Darrell would come into my mind when he looked at me.

'Chatty says my cousin is in the dining-room: do you mind coming down with me for a few minutes? I do not wish to see her alone.'

Of course I signified my willingness to accompany him, and he walked beside me silently to the dining-room door.

Miss Darrell was sitting on the circular seat looking out on the oak avenue; she did not turn her head, and there was something hopeless in the line of her stooping shoulders. I saw her hands clutch the cushions nervously as her cousin walked straight to the window.

'Etta,' he began abruptly, 'I wish you to listen to me a moment. I will spare you all I can, for Aunt Margaret's sake: I do not intend to be more hard with you than my duty demands.'

'Oh, Giles!' raising her eyes at this mild commencement; but they dropped again at the sight of the dark impenetrable face, which certainly had no look of pity on it. She must have felt then, what I should certainly have felt in her place, that any prayers or tears would be wasted on him.

'It would be useless, and worse than useless,' he went on, 'to point out to you the heinousness of your sin,—perhaps I should say crime. All these years you have not faltered in your relentless course; no pity for me and mine has touched your heart; you have allowed our poor lad to wander about the world as an outcast; you have suffered Gladys to carry a heavy and bitter weight in her bosom. Pshaw! why do I reiterate these things? you know them all.'

'Giles, I have loved you in spite of it all! Be merciful to me!' But he went on as though he heard her no more than the rain dripping on the leaves.

'This home is yours no longer; you are no fit companion for my sisters, even if I could bear to shelter a traitor under my roof. If I know my present feelings, I will never willingly see your face again: whether I ever do see it depends on your future conduct.'

'Oh, for pity's sake, Giles!' She was writhing now. In spite of all her sins against him, she had loved him in her perverse way.

'I have found you a home far from here,' he continued in the same chilling manner, 'and to-morrow morning you will be taken to it. The Alnwicks are kind, worthy people—not rich in this world's goods, or what the world would call refined. I was able to help them once when they were in bitter straits: in return they have acceded to my request and have offered you a home.'

'I will not go!' she sobbed passionately. 'I would rather you should kill me, Giles, than treat me with such cruelty!'

'They are old,' he went on calmly, 'but more with trouble than years, and they have no one belonging to them, and they promise to treat you like a daughter. You will be in comfort, but not luxury: luxury has been your curse, Etta. A moderate sum will be paid to you yearly for your dress and personal expenses, but if overdrawn or misapplied it will be curtailed or stopped altogether. Your maintenance will be arranged between the Alnwicks and myself, and, unless I give you permission to write,—which is distinctly not my purpose now,—no letter from you will be read or answered, and I forbid all such communication.'

'I cannot—I cannot bear it!' she screamed, springing to her feet; but he waved her back with such a look that her arms dropped to her side.

'No scene, I beg,' in a tone of disgust. 'Let me finish quietly what I have to say.—Miss Garston,' turning to me, 'could you spare Chatty to help my cousin pack her clothes and books? for we shall start early in the morning. Mr. Alnwick has promised to meet us half-way.'

'I can set Chatty at liberty for the day,' was my answer.

'Very well. Etta, you may as well go at once. Your meals will be served in your room. I do not wish you to resume your usual habits: this is my house, not yours. Your only course now must be obedience and submission. Let your future conduct atone to me for the past, that I may remember without shame that I have a cousin Etta.'

He turned away then, but I could see his face working. He had dearly loved this miserable creature, and had cared for her as though she had been his sister, and he could not leave her without this vague word of hope. Did she understand him, I wonder,—that in the future he might bring himself to forgive her? I heard her weeping bitterly in her room afterwards, and Chatty, in her fussy, good-natured way, trying to comfort her: the girl had a kind heart.

Early in the afternoon Mr. Hamilton joined us in the turret-room. Directly he came in and sat down by his sister's couch I knew that he meant to tell her everything,—that he thought it best that she should hear it from him.

He told it very quietly, without any explanation or expression of feeling; but it was not possible for Gladys to hear that Eric's name was cleared without keen emotion. 'Oh, thank God for this other mercy!' she sobbed, bursting into tears; and presently, as he went on, she crept closer to him, and before he had finished she had clasped his arm with her two hands and her face was hidden in them.

'Oh, Giles! if you only knew what she has made me suffer!' she whispered. 'We should have understood each other better if Etta had not always come between us.'

'You are right; I feel you are right, Gladys,' stroking her fair hair as he spoke; then she looked up and smiled affectionately in his face.

'Ursula, will you leave me alone with my brother for a little? There is something I want to tell him!' And I went away at once.

As I opened the door, Chatty came down the passage with a pile of freshly-ironed linen. Her round face looked unusually disturbed.

'She is going on so, ma'am,' she whispered, 'it is dreadful to hear her. She is making us turn out all her drawers, and there are three big trunks to fill. She says she is going away for ever.'

'Hush!' I returned, with a warning look, for Miss Darrell was at the door watching us. She was in her yellow dressing-gown, and the old pinched look was still in her face.

'Why are you stopping to gossip, Chatty?' she said querulously. 'I shall not have finished until midnight at this rate. Leah would have packed by this time.' And Chatty, with rather a frightened look, carried in her pile of clean linen.

I strolled about the garden for an hour, and then went back to the house. Mr. Hamilton was just closing the door of his sister's room. He looked happier, I thought: the dark, irritable expression had left his face. He came forward with a smile.

'Gladys has been telling me, Miss Garston. I am more glad than I can say. Cunliffe is a fine fellow; there is no one that I should like so well for a brother.'

'I knew you would say so. Uncle Max is so good.'

'Well, he has secured a prize,' with a slight sigh. 'Gladys is a noble woman; she will make her husband a happy man. There is little doubt that Etta did mischief there; but Gladys was not willing to enter on that part of the subject. I begin to think,' with a quick, searching look that somewhat disturbed me, 'that we have not yet reached the limits of her mischief-making.'

I could have told him that I knew that. I think he meant to have said something more; but a slight movement in the direction of Miss Darrell's room made us separate somewhat quickly. I saw Mr. Hamilton glance uneasily at the half-closed door as he went past it.

I found Gladys in tears, but she made me understand with some difficulty that they were only tears of relief and joy.

'But I am sorry too, because I have so often grieved him so,' she said, drying her eyes. 'Oh, how good Giles is!—how noble!—and I have misunderstood him so! he was so glad about Max, and so very very kind. And then we talked about Eric. He says we were wrong to keep it from him, that even you were to blame in that. He thinks so highly of you, Ursula; but he said even good people make mistakes sometimes, and that this was a great mistake. I was so sorry when he said that, that I asked his pardon over and over again.'

I felt that I longed to ask his pardon too; and yet the fault had been Gladys's more than mine; but I knew she had talked enough, so I kissed her, and begged her to lie down and compose herself while I got the tea ready.

We did not see Mr. Hamilton again that night. Gladys and I sat by the open window, talking by snatches or relapsing into silence. When she had retired to rest I stole out into the passage to see what had become of tired Chatty, but I repented this charitable impulse when I saw Miss Darrell standing in the open doorway opposite, as though she were watching for some one.

On seeing me she beckoned imperiously, and I crossed the passage with some reluctance.

'Come in a moment: I want to speak to you,' she said hoarsely; and I saw she was much excited. 'I sent Chatty to bed. We have finished packing,—oh, quite finished. Giles will be satisfied with my obedience; and now I want you to tell me what you and he were saying about Mr. Cunliffe.' But her white lips looked whiter as she spoke.

'Excuse me, Miss Darrell,' I returned; but she stopped me.

'You are going to say that it is no business of mine. You are always cautious, Miss Garston; but I am resolved to know this, or I will refuse to leave the house to-morrow morning. Are they engaged? is that what Giles meant when he said he was a fine fellow?'

I thought it wiser to tell her the truth. 'They are engaged.'

'And Giles knows it, and gives his consent?'

'Most gladly and willingly.'

'I wish I could kill them both!' was the sullen reply; and then, without taking any further notice of me, she sat down on one of the boxes and hid her face in her hands, and when I tried to speak to her she shook her head with a gesture of impatience and despair.

'The game is played out; I may as well go,' she muttered; and seeing her in this mood I thought it better to leave her; but I slept uneasily, and often started up in bed fancying I heard something. I remembered her words with horror: the whole scene was like a nightmare to me,—the disordered and desolate room, with the great heavily-corded trunks, the dim light, the wretched woman in her yellow dressing-gown sitting crouched on a box. 'Can this be love?' I thought, with a shudder,—'this compound of vanity and selfishness?' and I felt how different was my feeling for Giles. The barrier might never be broken down between us, I might never be to him more than I was now, but all my life I should love and honour him as the noblest man I knew on God's earth.



CHAPTER XLVI

NAP BARKS IN THE STABLE-YARD

I was arranging some flowers that Max had sent us the next morning, and waiting for Gladys to join me, when Mr. Hamilton came in.

'Where is Gladys?' he asked, looking round the room; but when he heard that she had not finished dressing, he would not hear of my disturbing her.

'It is no matter,' he went on. 'I shall be back before she is in bed. I only wanted to tell her that I have seen Cunliffe. I breakfasted with him this morning. He will be up here presently to see her. He looks ten years younger, Miss Garston.' And, as I smiled at that, he continued, in rather a constrained voice,—

'Mr. Tudor breakfasted with us.'

'Yes, I suppose so,' I returned carelessly. 'What splendid carnations these are, Mr. Hamilton! You have not any so good at Gladwyn.'

'Cunliffe must spare me some cuttings,' he replied, rather absently; then, without looking at me, and in a peculiar voice, 'Is it still a secret, Miss Garston, or may I be allowed to congratulate you?'

I dropped the carnations as though they suddenly scorched me.

'Why should you congratulate me, Mr. Hamilton?'

'I thought you considered me a friend,' he replied, rather nervously. 'But, of course, if it be still a secret, I must beg your pardon for my abruptness.'

'I don't know what you mean,' I said, very crossly, but my cheeks were burning. 'If this be a joke, I must tell you once for all that I dislike this sort of jokes: they are not in good taste': for I was as angry with him as possible, for who knew what nonsense he had got into his head? He looked at me in quite a bewildered fashion; my anger was evidently incomprehensible to him. We were playing at cross-purposes.

'Do you think I am in the mood for joking?' he said, at last. 'Have you ever heard me jest on such subjects, Miss Garston? I thought we agreed on that point.'

'Do you mean you are serious?'

'Perfectly serious.'

'Then in that case will you kindly explain to me why you think I am to be congratulated?'

He looked uncomfortable. 'I have understood that you and Mr. Tudor were engaged, or, at least, likely to become so. Do you mean,' as my astonished face seemed to open room for doubt, 'that it is not true?—that Etta deceived me there?'

'Miss Darrell!' scornfully; then, controlling my strong indignation with an effort, I said, more quietly, 'I think that we ought to beg Mr. Tudor's pardon for dragging in his name in this way: he would hardly thank us. If I am not mistaken, he is in love with my cousin Jocelyn.'

'Impossible! What a credulous fool I have been to believe her! Your cousin Jocelyn,—do you mean Miss Jill?'

'Yes,' I returned, smiling, for a sense of renewed happiness was stealing over me. 'The foolish fellow is always following me about to talk of her. I do believe he is honestly in love with her. He saved her life, and that makes it all the worse.'

'All the better, you mean,' regarding me gravely. That fixed, serious look made me rather confused.

'Would you mind telling me, Mr. Hamilton,' I interposed hurriedly, 'what put this absurd idea into your head?'

'It was Etta,' he returned, in a low voice. 'It was that night when you had been singing to us, and she came home unexpectedly.'

'Yes, yes, I remember'; but I could not meet his eyes.

'She told me when we got home that Mr. Tudor was in love with you, and that she believed you were engaged, or that, at least, there was an understanding between you; and she added that if I did not believe her I might watch for myself, and I should see that you were always together.'

'Well?' rather impatiently.

'I will beg your pardon afterwards for following Etta's advice, but I did watch, and it was not long before I came round to her opinion.'

'Mr. Hamilton!'

'Wait a moment before you get angry with me again. I never saw you in a passion before'; but I knew he was laughing at me. 'Etta was certainly right in one thing: I seemed always finding you together.'

'That was because I often met Mr. Tudor in the village, and he turned back and walked with me a little; but we always talked of Jill.'

'How could I know that?' in rather an injured voice. 'Were you talking of Miss Jocelyn in the vicarage kitchen-garden that evening?'

'Probably,' was my cool reply; for how could I remember all the subjects of our conversation?

'And when you went to Hyde Park Gate, you were together then,—Leah saw you,—and—' But I could bear no more.

'How could I know that I should be watched and spied upon, and all my innocent actions misrepresented?' I exclaimed indignantly. 'It was not fair, Mr. Hamilton. I could not have believed it of you, that you should listen to such things against me. That boy, too!'

'Nonsense!' speaking in his old good-humoured voice, and looking exceedingly pleased. 'He is five-and-twenty, and a very good-looking fellow: a girl might do worse for herself than marry Lawrence Tudor.'

'But I intend to have him as my cousin some day,' was my reply; but at this moment Chatty came in to tell Mr. Hamilton that the boxes were in the cart, and Miss Darrell waiting in the carriage.

'Confound it! I had forgotten all about Etta,' he returned impatiently. 'Well, it cannot be helped: we must finish our conversation this evening.' And with a smile that told of restored confidence he went off.

I sat down and cried a little for sheer happiness, for I knew the barrier was broken at last, and that we should soon arrive at a complete understanding. It was hard that he should have to leave me just then; and the thought of resuming the conversation in the evening made me naturally a little nervous. 'Supposing I go back to the White Cottage,' I thought once; but I knew he would follow me there, and that it would seem idle coquetting on my part. It would be more dignified to wait and hear what he had to say. I should go back to the White Cottage in a day or two.

Gladys came out of her room when she heard the wheels, and proposed that we should go down into the drawing-room. 'Poor poor Etta!' she sighed. 'I try to pity and be sorry for her, but it is impossible not to be glad that she has gone. I want to look at every room, Ursula, and to realise that I am to have my own lovely home in peace. We must send for Lady Betty; and Giles must know about Claude. I do not believe that he will be angry: oh no, nothing will make Giles angry now.'

Max found us very busy in the drawing-room. I was just carrying out a work-box and a novel that belonged to Miss Darrell, and Gladys had picked up a peacock-feather screen, and a carved ivory fan, and two or three little knick-knacks. 'Take them all away, Ursula dear,' she pleaded, with a faint shudder; but as she put them in my arms there were Max's eyes watching us from the threshold.

I saw her go up to him as simply as a child, and put her hands in his, and as I closed the door Max took her in his arms. The peacock screen fell at my feet, the ivory fan and a hideous little Chinese god rolled noisily on the oilcloth. I smiled as I picked them up. My dear Max and his Lady of Delight were together at last. I felt as though my cup of joy were full.

Max remained to luncheon, but he went away soon afterwards. Gladys must rest, and he would come again later in the evening. I was rather glad when he said this, for I wanted to go down to the White Cottage and see Mrs. Barton, and I could not have left the house while he was there. Yes, Max was certainly right: it would be better for him to come again when Mr. Hamilton was at home.

I made Gladys take possession of her favourite little couch in the drawing-room, but she detained me for some time talking about Max, until I refused to hear another word, and then I went up to my own room, and put on my hat.

I thought Nap would like a run down the road,—and I could always make Tinker keep the peace,—so I went into the stable-yard in search of him. He was evidently there, for I could hear him barking excitedly. The next moment a young workman came out of the empty coach-house, and walked quickly to the gate, followed closely by Nap, jumping and fawning on him.

'Down, down, good dog!' I heard him say, and then I whistled back Nap, who came reluctantly, and with some difficulty I contrived to shut him up in the stable-yard. There seemed no man about the premises. Then I hurried down the road in the direction of the village: my heart was beating fast, my limbs trembled under me. I had caught sight of a perfect profile and a golden-brown moustache as the young workman went out of the gate, and I knew it was the face of Eric Hamilton.

My one thought was that I must follow him, that on no account must I lose sight of him. As I closed the gate I could see him in the distance, just turning the corner by the Man and Plough; he was walking very quickly in the direction of the station. I quickened my steps, breaking into a run now and then, and soon had the satisfaction of lessening the distance between us; my last run had brought me within a hundred yards of him, and slackened my pace, and began to look the matter in the face.

I remembered that the London train would be due in another quarter of an hour; no doubt that was why he was walking so fast. I must keep near him when he took his ticket. I had no fear of his recognising me; he had only seen me twice, without my bonnet, and now I wore a hat that shaded my face, and my plain gray gown was sufficiently unlike the dress I had worn at Hyde Park Gate. I had a sudden qualm as the thought darted into my mind that he might possibly have a return-ticket; but I should know if he got into the Victoria train, and I determined on taking a ticket for myself.

I had a couple of sovereigns and a little loose silver in my purse. I had assured myself of this fact as I walked down the hill. As soon as the young workman had entered the booking-office, I followed him closely, and to my great relief heard him ask for a third-class ticket for Victoria. When he had made way for me I took the same for myself, and then, as I had seven minutes to spare, I went into the telegraph-office and dashed off a message to Gladys.

'Called to town on important business; may be detained to-night. Will write if necessary.'

As I gave in the form I could hear the signal for the up train, and had only time to reach the platform when the Victoria train came in.

The young workman got into an empty compartment, and I followed and placed myself at the other end. I had no wish to attract his notice; the ill success of my former attempt had frightened me, and I felt I dared not address him, for fear he should leave the train at the next station. Some workmen had got in and were talking noisily among themselves. I did not feel that the opportunity would he propitious.

When we had actually left Heathfield I stole a glance at the young man: he had drawn his cap over his eyes, and seemed to feign sleep, no doubt to avoid conversation with the noisy crew opposite us; but that he was not really asleep was evident from the slight twitching of the mouth and a long-drawn sigh that every now and then escaped him.

I could watch him safely now, and for a few minutes I studied almost painfully one of the most perfect faces I had ever seen. It was thin and colourless, and there were lines sad to see on so young a face; but it might have been a youthful Apollo leaning his head against the wooden wainscotting.

Once he opened his eyes and pushed back his cap with a gesture of weariness and impatience. He did not see me: those sad, blue-gray eyes were fixed on the moving landscape; but how like Gladys's they looked! I turned aside quickly to hide my emotion. I thought of Gladys and Mr. Hamilton, and a prayer rose to my lips that for their sake I might succeed in bringing the lost one back.

The journey seemed a long one. All sorts of fears tormented me. I remembered Mr. Hamilton was in London: there was danger of encountering him at Victoria. It was five now: he might possibly return to dinner. I could scarcely breathe as this new terror presented itself to me, for if Eric caught sight of his brother all would be lost.

When the train stopped, I followed the young workman as closely as possible. As we were turning in the subterranean passage for the District Railway, my heart seemed to stop. There was Mr. Hamilton reading his paper under the clock: we actually passed within twenty yards of him, and he did not raise his eyes. I am sure Eric saw him, for he suddenly dived into the passage, and I had much trouble to keep him in sight: as it was, I was only just in time to hear him ask for a third-class single to Bishop's Road.

I did not dare enter the same compartment, but I got into the next, and now and then, when our train stopped at the different stations, I could hear him distinctly talking to a fellow-workman, in a refined, gentlemanly voice, that would have attracted attention to him anywhere. Once the other man called him Jack, and asked where he hung out, and I noticed this question was cleverly eluded, but I heard him say afterwards that he was in regular work, and liked his present governor, and that the old woman who looked after him was a tidy, decent lady, and kept things comfortable. My thoughts strayed a little after this. The sight of Mr. Hamilton had disturbed me. What would he think when Gladys showed him my telegram? He had promised to finish our conversation this evening. I felt with a strange soreness of longing that I should not see Gladwyn that night. My absence of mind nearly cost me dear, for I had no idea that we had reached Bishop's Road until Eric passed my window, and with a smothered exclamation I opened the door: happily, the passengers were numerous and blocked up the stairs, so I reached the street to find him only a few yards before me.

My patience was being severely exercised after this, for Eric did not go straight to his lodgings. He went into a butcher's first, and after a few minutes' delay—for there were customers in the shop—came out with a newspaper parcel in his hand. Then he went into a grocer's, and through the window I could see him putting little packets of tea and sugar in his pocket.

His next business was to the baker's, and here a three-cornered crusty loaf was the result. The poor young fellow was evidently providing his evening meal, and the sight of these homely delicacies reminded me that I was tired and hungry and that a cup of tea would be refreshing. Eric carried his steak and three-cornered loaf jauntily, and every now and then broke into a sweet low whistle that reminded me of his nickname among his mates of 'Jack the Whistler.'

We were threading the labyrinth of streets that lie behind Bishop's Road Station; I was beginning to feel weary and discouraged, when Eric stopped suddenly before a neat-looking house of two stories, with very bright geraniums in the parlour window, and taking out his latch-key let himself in, and closed the door with a bang.

I stalked carelessly to the end of the street, and read the name. 'No. 25 Madison Street,' I said to myself, and then I went up to the door and knocked boldly. My time had come now, I thought, trying to pull myself together, for I felt decidedly nervous.

A stout, oldish woman with rather a pleasant face opened the door; her arms were bare, and she dried her hands on her apron as she asked me my business.

'Your lodger Jack Poynter has just come in,' I said quietly. 'I have a message for him. Can I see him, please?'

'Oh ay,—you can see him surely.' And she stepped back into the passage and called out, 'Jack, Jack! here is a young woman wants to speak to you.' But I shut the door hurriedly and interrupted her:

'Let me go up to his room: you can tell me where it is'; for it never would do to speak to him in the passage.

'Well, perhaps he may be washing and brushing himself a bit after his journey,' she returned good-humouredly: 'he is a tidy chap, is Jack. If you go up to the top landing and knock at the second door, that is his sitting-room; he sleeps at the back, and Sawyer has the other room.'

I followed these instructions, and knocked at the front-room door; but no voice bade me come in; only a short bark and a scuffle of feet gave me notice of the occupant: so I ventured to go in.

It was a tidy little room, and had a snug aspect. A white fox-terrier with a pretty face retreated growling under a chair, but I coaxed her to come out. The steak and the loaf were on the table. But I had no time for any further observation, for a voice said, 'What are you barking at, Jenny?' and the next moment Eric entered the room.

He started when he saw me caressing the dog.

'I beg your pardon for this intrusion,' I began nervously, for I saw I was not recognised; 'but I have followed you from Heathfield to tell you the good news. Mr. Hamilton, it is all found out; Miss Darrell stole that cheque.'

I had blurted it out, fearing that he might start away from me even then: he must know that his name was cleared, and then I could persuade him to listen to me. I was right in my surmise, for as I said his name he put his hand on the door, but my next words made him drop the handle.

'What?' he exclaimed, turning deadly pale, and I could see how his lips quivered under his moustache. 'Say that again: I do not understand.'

'Mr. Hamilton,' I repeated slowly, 'you need not have rushed past your poor brother in that way at Victoria, for he is breaking his heart, and so is Gladys, with the longing to find you. Your name is cleared: they only want to ask your forgiveness for all you have suffered. It was a foul conspiracy of two women to save themselves by ruining you. Leah has made full confession. Your cousin Etta took the cheque out of your brother's desk.'

'Oh, my God!' he gasped, and, sitting down, he hid his face in his hands. The little fox-terrier jumped on his knee and began licking his hands. 'Don't, Jenny: let me be,' he said, in a fretful, boyish voice that made me smile. 'I must think, for my brain seems dizzy.'

I left him quiet for a few minutes, and Jenny, after this rebuke, curled herself up at his feet and went to sleep. Then I took the chair beside him, and asked him, very quietly, if he could listen to me. He was frightfully pale, and his features were working, but he nodded assent and held his head between his hands again, but I know he heard every word.

I told him as briefly as I could how Gladys had languished and pined all these years, how she had clung to the notion of his innocence and would not believe that he was dead. He started at that, and asked what I meant. Had Giles really believed he was dead?

'He had reason to fear so,' I returned gravely; and I told him how his watch and scarf had been found on the beach at Brighton, and how the hotel-keeper had brought them to Mr. Hamilton.

He seemed shocked at this. 'I had been bathing,' he said, in rather an ashamed voice: 'some boy must have stolen them, and then dropped his booty for fear of the police. I missed them when I came out of the water, and I hunted about for them a long time. As I was leaving the beach I saw one of Giles's friends coming down towards me, and I got it into my head that I was recognised. I dared not go back to the hotel. Besides, my money was running short. I took a third-class ticket up to London, and on my way fell in with a house-painter, who gave me lodging for a few nights.'

'Yes, and then—' for he hesitated here.

'Well, you see, I was just mad with them at home. I thought I could never forgive Giles that last insult. My character and honour were gone. Etta had been my secret enemy all along, because she knew I read her truly. Leah had given in her false evidence. My word was nothing. I was looked upon as a common thief. I swore that I would never cross the threshold of Gladwyn again until my name was cleared. They should not hear of me; if they thought me dead, so much the better!'

'Oh, Mr. Eric, and you never considered how Gladys would suffer!'

'Yes, that was my only trouble; but I thought they would turn her against me in time. I was nearly mad, I tell you: but for Phil Power I believe I should have been desperate; but he stuck to me, and was always telling me that a man can live down anything. Indeed, but for Phil and his pretty little wife I should have starved, for I had no notion of helping myself, and would not have begged for a job to save my life, for I could not forget I was a gentleman. But Phil got me work at his governor's. So I turned house-painter, and rather liked my employment. I used to tell myself that it was better than old Armstrong's office. Why, I make two pounds a week now when we are in full work,' finished the poor lad proudly.

My heart was yearning over him, he was so boyish and weak and impulsive; but I would not spare him. I told him that it was cowardly of him to hide himself,—that it would have been braver and nobler to have lived his life openly. 'Why not have let your brother know what you were doing?' I continued. 'For years this shadow has been over his home. He has believed you dead. He has even feared self-destruction. This fear has embittered his life and made him a hard, unhappy man.'

'Do you mean Giles has suffered like that?' he exclaimed; and his gray eyes grew misty.

'Yes, in spite of all your sins against him, he has loved you dearly; and Gladys—' But he put up his hand, as though he could hear no more.

'Yes, I know, poor darling; but I have often seen her, often been near her; but I heard her laugh, and thought she was happy and had forgotten me. How long is it since Leah confessed, Miss—Miss—' And here he laughed a little nervously. 'I do not know who you are, and yet you must be a friend.'

'I am Ursula Garston, a very close friend of your sister Gladys, and I have been nursing her in this last illness.'

'What! has she been ill?' he asked anxiously. And when I had given him full particulars he questioned me again about Leah's confession, and I had to repeat all I could remember of her words.

'Then I was not cleared when you spoke to me at Hyde Park Gate?' he returned, with a relieved air. 'So it did not matter my giving you the slip. You frightened me horribly, Miss Garston, I can tell you that. I saw those advertisements, too, to Jack Poynter, and I was very near leaving the country; but I am glad I held on, as Phil advised,' drawing a long breath as he spoke.



CHAPTER XLVII

'AT LAST, URSULA, AT LAST!'

We were interrupted at this moment by the landlady's voice calling to Eric from the bottom of the stairs.

'Jack,—I say, Jack, what has become of the steak I promised to cook for you? I'll be bound Jenny has eaten it.'

Eric gave a short laugh and went out into the passage, and I heard him say, in rather a low voice,—

'A lady, a friend of my sister's, has just brought me some news. I expect she is as tired and hungry as I am. Do you think,' coaxingly, 'that you could get tea for us in the parlour, Mrs. Hunter? and perhaps you will join us there'; for class-instinct had awoke in Eric at the sight of a lady's face, and I suppose, in spite of my Quakerish gray gown, I was still young enough to make him hesitate about entertaining me in his bachelor's room.

There was a short parley after this. Then Mrs. Hunter came up panting, and, still wiping her hands from imaginary soap-suds, carried off the steak and the three-cornered loaf. 'It will be ready in about twenty minutes, Jack,' she observed, with a good-natured nod.

Eric employed the interval of waiting by questioning me eagerly about his sisters. Then he tried to find out, in a gentlemanly way, how I contrived to be so mixed up with his family. This led to a brief resume of my own history and work, and by the time Mrs. Hunter called us I felt as though I had known Eric for years.

Mrs. Hunter beamed on us as we entered. There was really quite a tempting little meal spread on the round table, though the butter was not fresh nor the forks silver, but the tea was hot and strong, and the bread was new. And Eric produced from his stores some lump sugar and a pot of strawberry jam, and I did full justice to the homely fare.

When Mrs. Hunter went into the kitchen to replenish the teapot I took the opportunity of consulting Eric about a lodging for the night. It was too late to return to Heathfield. Besides, I had made up my mind that Eric should accompany me. Aunt Philippa and Jill were in Switzerland, and the house at Hyde Park Gate would be empty. I could not well go to an hotel without any luggage. Eric seemed rather perplexed, and said we must take Mrs. Hunter into our confidence, which we did, and the good woman soon relieved our minds.

She said at once that she knew an excellent person who let lodgings round the corner,—a Miss Moseley. Miss Gunter, who had been a music-mistress until she married the young chemist, had lived with her for six years; and Miss Crabbe, who was in the millinery department at Howell's, the big shop in Kimber Street, was still there. Miss Gunter's room was vacant, and she was sure Miss Moseley would take me in for the night and make me comfortable.

I begged Mrs. Hunter to open negotiations with this obliging person, and she pulled down her sleeves at once, and tied her double chin in a very big black bonnet. While she was gone on this charitable errand, Eric and I sat by the parlour window in the gathering dusk, and I told him about Gladys's engagement to Uncle Max.

He seemed much excited by the news. 'I always thought that would be a case,' he exclaimed: 'I could see Mr. Cunliffe cared for her even then. Well, he is a first-rate fellow, and I am awfully glad.' And then he fell into a reverie, and I could see there were tears in his eyes.

Mrs. Hunter returned presently with the welcome news that Miss Moseley was airing my sheets at the kitchen fire, and, after a little more talk, Eric walked with me to Prescott Street and gave me in charge to Miss Moseley, after promising to be with me soon after nine the next morning.

I found Miss Moseley a cheerful talkative person, with very few teeth and a great deal of good-nature. She gave me Miss Gunter's history as she made the bed. I could see that her marriage with the young chemist was a great source of glorification to all connected with her. She was still holding forth on the newly-furnished drawing-room, with its blue sofa and inlaid chiffonier, as she lighted a pair of candles in the brass candlesticks, and brought me a can of hot water. I am afraid I was rather thankful when she closed the door and left me alone, for I was tired, and longed to think over the wonderful events of the day. I slept very sweetly in the old-fashioned brown bed that was sacred to the memory of Miss Gunter, and woke happily to the fact that another blue day was shining, and that in a few hours Eric and I would be at Heathfield. I ate my frugal breakfast in a small back parlour overlooking the blank wall of a brewery, and before I had finished there was a quick tap at the door, and Eric entered. A boyish blush crossed his handsome face as I looked at him in some surprise. He had laid aside his workman's dress, and wore the ordinary garb of a gentleman. Perhaps his coat was a little shabby and the hat he held in his hand had lost its gloss, but no one would have noticed such trifles with that bright speaking face and air of refinement; and, though he looked down at his uncovered hands and muttered something about stopping to buy a pair of gloves, I hastened to assure him that it was so early that it did not matter. 'I should hardly have recognised you, Mr. Eric,' I ventured to observe, for I saw he was a little sensitive about his appearance; and then he told me in his frank way that the clothes he wore were the same in which he left Gladwyn nearly four years ago.

'They have been lying by all this time,' he went on, 'and they are sadly creased, I am afraid. I have grown a little broader, and they don't seem to fit me, somehow, but I did not want Gladys to see me in anything else.'

We had decided to take the ten o'clock train to Heathfield, so I did not keep him long waiting for me. On our way to the station we met a house-painter: he looked rather dubiously at Eric.

'All right, Phil,' he laughed, 'I am going home; but I shall turn up again all right: this lady has brought me good news.' And he wrung Phil's hand with a heartiness that spoke volumes.

He was very excited and talkative at first, but as soon as we left Victoria behind us he became quieter, and soon afterwards perfectly silent; and I did not disturb him. He grew more nervous as we approached Heathfield, and when the train stopped he had not an atom of colour in his face.

'I do not know what I shall say to Giles,' he said, as we walked up the hill. 'It will be very awkward for both of us, Miss Garston. Of course I know that—'

But I begged him not to anticipate the awkwardness. 'You will be welcomed as we only welcome our dearest and best,' I assured him. 'Your brother's heart has been sore for you all these years: you need not fear one word of reproach from him.' But he only sighed, and asked me not to walk so quickly; his courage was failing; I could see the look of nervous fear on his face.

We had arranged that he should accompany me to Gladwyn. Gladys never left her room before twelve, and I thought that I could shut him safely in the dining-room while I prepared her for his arrival. I knew Mr. Hamilton was never at home at this hour, but I had not reckoned on the disorganised state of the house, or the difference my brief absence would make in the usual routine.

I blamed myself for rashness and want of consideration when, on opening the gate, I saw Gladys crossing one of the little lawns around the house, with Max and Mr. Hamilton. At my faint exclamation Eric let go the gate rather too suddenly, and it swung back on its hinges so noisily that they all looked round, and the poor boy stood as though rooted to the spot. But the next moment there was the gleam of a white gown, and Gladys came running over the grass towards us with outstretched hands, and in another second the brother and sister were locked in each other's arms.

'Oh, my darling,' we heard her say, as she put up her face and kissed him, and then her fair head seemed to droop lower and lower until it touched Eric's shoulder. I glanced anxiously at Mr. Hamilton.

'Take her into the house, Eric,' he said, in his ordinary voice; but how white his face looked! 'It has been too sudden, and she has fainted.' And, without a word, Eric lifted her in his strong arms and carried her of his own accord to the little blue couch in the drawing-room, and then stood aside while his brother administered the usual remedy. Not a look had passed between them yet: they were both too much absorbed in Gladys.

She soon opened her eyes, and pushed away the vinaigrette I was holding to her.

'It is nothing, Ursula. I am well, quite well. Where is my dear boy? Do not keep him from me.' And then Eric knelt down beside her, and put his arm round her with a sort of sob.

'I ought not to have startled you so, Gladys. I have made you look so pale.' But she laughed again, and pushed back his hair from his forehead, and feasted her eyes on his face as though they could never be satisfied.

'Eric, darling, it seems like a dream; and it was Ursula, dear good Ursula, who has given you back to us. We must thank her presently; but not now. Oh, I must look at you first. He looks older, does he not, Giles?—older and more manly. And what broad shoulders, and such a moustache!' but Eric silenced her with a kiss.

'That will do, Gladys dear,' he whispered, springing to his feet; and then, with downcast eyes and a flush on his face, he held out his hand to his brother. It was taken and held silently, and then Mr. Hamilton's disengaged hand was laid on his shoulder caressingly.

'Welcome home, my dear boy,' he said; but his voice was not quite so clear as usual.

'I am very sorry, Giles,' he faltered; but Mr. Hamilton would not let him speak.

'There is nothing to be sorry for, now,' he said significantly. 'Have you shaken hands with Mr. Cunliffe, Eric? Gladys, can you spare your boy for a few moments while I carry him off?' And, as Gladys smiled assent, Mr. Hamilton signed to Eric to follow him.

Max sat down beside Gladys when they had left the room, and Gladys made a space for me on the couch.

'You must tell us how it happened,' she said, fixing her lovely eyes on me. 'Dear Ursula, we owe this fresh happiness to you: how can I thank you for all your goodness to us?' But I would not allow her to talk in this fashion, and I left Max to soothe her when she cried a little, and then I told them both how I had found Eric in the stable-yard with Nap, and how I had tracked him successfully to his lodgings.

'She is a brave, dear child, is she not, Gladys?' observed Max. Then, with a mischievous look in his brown eyes, 'You are proud of your presumptive niece, are you not, dear?' And then, in spite of Gladys's confusion, for she was still a little shy with him, I burst out laughing, and she was obliged to join me, for it had never entered into our heads that Gladys would be my aunt. The laugh brought back her colour and did her good; but she would not look at Max for a long time after that, though he was on his best behaviour and said all sorts of nice things to us both.

It was a long time before Mr. Hamilton brought Eric back to us. They both looked very happy, but Eric's eyes had a strangely softened look in them. The gong sounded for luncheon just then, and Mr. Hamilton asked me, in rather a surprised tone, why I had not taken off my hat and jacket, so I ran off to my room in a great hurry. As he opened the door for me, he said, in rather an odd tone, 'Do you know you have not wished me good-morning, Miss Garston?' I muttered some sort of an answer, but he merely smiled, and told me not to keep them waiting. Gladys came in to luncheon, and took her usual place; but neither she nor Eric made much pretence of eating, though Mr. Hamilton scolded them both for their want of appetite. Nobody talked much, and there was no connected conversation: I think we were all too much engrossed in watching Gladys. Max was in the background for once, but he did not seem to think of himself at all: the sight of Gladys's sweet face, radiant with joy, was sufficient pleasure for him; but now and then she turned to him in a touching manner, as though to show she had not forgotten him, and then he was never slow to respond.

When luncheon was over, Mr. Hamilton begged me to take Gladys to the turret-room and persuade her to lie down.

'I am going to send Cunliffe away until dinner-time,' he said, with a sort of good-natured peremptoriness: 'under the circumstances he is decidedly de trop. Yes, my dear, yes,' as Gladys looked pleadingly at him, 'Eric shall come and talk to you. I am not so unreasonable as that.' And I think we all understood the feeling that made Gladys put her arms round her brother's neck, though we none of us heard her whisper a word. Max consented very cheerfully to efface himself for the remainder of the afternoon, and Gladys accompanied me upstairs. I waited until Eric joined us, and then I left them together.

'Oh, Gladys, he was so good, and I did not deserve it!' he burst out before I had closed the door. 'I never knew Giles could be like that.' But I took care not to hear any more. I hardly knew what to do with myself that afternoon, but I made up my mind at last that I would finish a letter I had begun to Jill. The inkstand was in the turret-room, but I thought I would fetch one out of the drawing-room; but when I reached the head of the staircase I drew back involuntarily, for Mr. Hamilton was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall with folded arms, as though he were waiting for somebody or something. An unaccountable timidity made me hesitate; in another second I should have gone back into my room, but he looked up, and, as before, our eyes met.

'Come,' he said, holding out his hand, and there was a sort of impatience in his manner. 'How long are you going to keep me waiting, Ursula?' And I went down demurely and silently, but I took no notice of his outstretched hands.

I was trying to pass him in a quiet, ordinary fashion, as though there were no unusual meaning in his deep-set eyes; but he stopped me somewhat coolly by taking me in his arms.

'At last, Ursula, at last!' was all he said, and then he kissed me....

* * * * *

I remember I told Giles, when I had recovered myself a little, that he had taken things too much for granted.

He had brought me into the drawing-room, and was sitting beside me on the little couch. To my dazzled eyes the room seemed full of sunshine and the sweet perfume of flowers: to this day the scent of heliotrope brings back the memory of that afternoon when Giles first told me that he loved me. He seemed rather perplexed at first by my stammering little speech, and then I suppose my meaning dawned on him, for his arm pressed me more closely.

'I think I understand: you mean, do you not, Ursula, that I have not asked you in plain English to be my wife? I thought we understood each other too well for any such word to be necessary. Ever since you told me that fellow Tudor was nothing to you, I felt you belonged to me.'

'I do not see that,' I returned shyly, for Giles in his new character was rather formidable. He had taken such complete possession of me, and, as I had hinted, had taken everything for granted. 'Because Mr. Tudor was simply a friend, it did not follow that I cared for any one else.'

'Yes; but you do care for me a good deal, darling, do you not?' in a most persuasive voice. 'But, for my own comfort, I want you to tell me if you are quite content to accept such a crabbed old bachelor for your husband.'

It was a little difficult to answer, but I made him understand that I looked upon him in a very different light, and I think I managed to content him.

'And you are really happy, dear?'

'Yes, very happy'; but the tears were in my eyes as I answered. He seemed distressed to see them, and wanted me to tell him the reason; but I think he understood me thoroughly when I whispered how glad Charlie would have been. I asked him presently how long he had cared for me, but, to my surprise, he declared that he hardly knew himself: he had been interested in me from the first hour of our meeting, but it was when he heard me sing in Phoebe Locke's room that the thought came to him that he must try and win me for his wife.

I think it was in answer to this that I said some foolish word about my want of beauty. I was a little sensitive on the subject, but, to my dismay, Giles's face darkened, and he dropped my hand.

'Never say that to me again, if you love me, Ursula,' he said, in such a grieved voice that I could hardly bear to hear it. 'Do you think I would have married you if you had been handsome? Do you know what you are talking about, child? Has no one told you about Ella?'

'Oh yes,' I returned, terrified at his sternness, for he had never spoken to me in such a tone before. 'Yes, indeed, and I know she was very beautiful.'

'She was perfectly lovely,'—in the same hard voice. Oh, how he must have suffered, my poor Giles! 'And the memory of that false loveliness has made me loathe the idea of beauty ever since. No, I would never have let myself love you if you had been handsome, Ursula.'

'I am glad I am not,' I returned, in a choked voice, for all this was very painful to me. Something in my tone attracted his notice, for he stooped and looked in my face, and his manner instantly changed.

'Oh, you foolish child,' very caressingly, 'there are actually tears in your eyes! You are not afraid of me, Ursula? I am always excited when I speak of Ella: she very nearly destroyed my faith in women.'

'I cannot bear to think how you suffered,' I faltered, but he would not let me finish.

'Never mind; you have been my healer; you have always rested me so. Never call yourself plain again in my hearing. No other face could be half so dear to me.' And then, with his old smile, 'Do you know, dear, when I saw you in that velvet gown at your cousin's wedding you looked so handsome that I went home in a bad humour, and then Etta told me about Tudor. Well, I have you safe now.' But I will not transcribe all Giles's speech; it was so lover-like, it made me understand, once for all, what I was to him, and how little he cared for life unless I shared it with him.

By and by he went on to speak of our mutual work, and here again he more than contented me.

'I do not mean to rob the poor people of their nurse, Ursula,' he said presently. 'When you come to Gladwyn as its mistress, I hope we shall work together as we do now.'

I told him I hoped so too; that I never wished to lay down my work.

'You are quite right, dear,' he answered cheerfully. 'We will not be selfish in our happiness. True, your work must be in limits. When I come home I shall want to see my wife's face. No,' rather jealously, 'I could not spare you of an evening, and in the morning there will be household duties. You must not undertake too much, Ursula.'

I told Giles, rather demurely, that there was plenty of time for the consideration of this point. He was inclined to bridge over the present in a man's usual fashion, but my new position was too overwhelming for me to look beyond the deep abiding consciousness that Giles loved me and looked to me for happiness.

So I turned a deaf ear when he asked me presently if I should mind Lady Betty sharing our home; 'for,' he went on, 'the poor child has no other home, and she is so feather-headed that no sensible man will think of marrying her.' It was not my place to enlighten Giles about Claude, but I thought it very improbable that Lady Betty would be long at Gladwyn; but I was a little oppressed by this sort of talk, and yet unwilling that he should notice my shyness, so I took the opportunity of saying it was tea-time, and did he not think that Gladys and Eric had been talking long enough?

He seemed unwilling to let me go, but I pleaded my nurse's duties, and then he told me, laughing, that I was a wilful woman, and that I might send Eric to him. As it happened, Eric was coming in search of Giles, and I found him in the passage.

Gladys was lying on her couch, looking worn out with happiness. She was beginning to speak about Eric, when something in my face seemed to distract her. She watched me closely for a moment, then threw her arms round me and drew my head on her shoulder.

'Is it so, Ursula? Oh, my dear dear sister! I am so glad!' And she seemed to understand without a word when my over-excited feelings found vent in a flood of nervous tears, for she only kissed me quietly, and stroked my hair, until I was relieved and happy again.