say?'

I took the sweet face between my hands, and looked into the clear eyes, which did not flinch under my gaze, as she added in a low voice: 'I am not in love with another woman's husband, Mary.'

No; I came to the happy conclusion that she was not. There was no cause for further anxiety upon that score. Had I only been right in my fancy about Robert Wentworth, how pleasantly might things now have arranged themselves!

Again I felt obliged to postpone telling Lilian about my coming happiness. It had seemed difficult to talk of my engagement the night before, how much more so now—on Arthur Trafford's wedding-day. I must still wait for a more fitting season, I told myself.

Mrs Tipper had done her best to make the little parlour appear as cheerful and home-like as possible; and I saw that she watched Lilian with loving anxiety. She had prepared quite a feast for our favourite meal that day. If hot cakes and everything else the dear little woman could think of in the way of dainties had been remedies for disappointed love, Lilian might have owed her recovery to them, so plentifully were they provided. She had the comfort of seeing her niece partake of the good things with an appetite which quite set her mind at rest.

If it really cost Lilian something so to gratify her aunt, I believe it was very little. She shewed too that her thoughts had not been absent during our morning's work, by joining very earnestly in my narration of what had taken place, and giving a very decided opinion about Mrs Gower. Before we bade each other good-night, Lilian had succeeded in satisfying Mrs Tipper, as she had satisfied me, that she was 'not in love with another woman's husband.'

As days passed on my news remained still untold. Something seemed always to be intervening to cause me to put off the telling it until the morrow. Looking back, I see how very slight were some of the causes which I allowed to prevent me from opening my heart to my companions; although at the time they appeared sufficient.

Meantime we were occupied from morning till night, Lilian and I working together as with one mind. But we presently began to miss our master, as Lilian laughingly termed him, and I grew more than anxious as the days he had accustomed us to expect him passed without our seeing him. Not once had we heard from or seen him since that never-to-be-forgotten night. Did he really blame me? Could he not forgive me? I tormented myself with all sorts of doubts and fears, in my heart of hearts dreading something even worse than his blame or anger. Robert Wentworth was not the man either to judge harshly or to be unforgiving.

It was nearly a fortnight since we had seen him, when one evening Becky mysteriously beckoned me out of the room. Lilian was playing one of our favourite sonatas, and I made my escape unobserved.

'Another letter, Becky?' I asked, putting out my hand for it with a smile.

'No, Miss; it's a woman this time,' returned Becky. 'She says that she wants to see you alone, and she won't come in. I was to tell you she's waiting down at the end of the lane, and to be sure to say you are to go by yourself.'

'What kind of woman is she, Becky?' I asked, my thoughts at once reverting to Nancy Dean.

'A more disagreeable one I never see,' very decidedly returned Becky. 'And as to behaviour, she seemed just ready to snap my nose off when I asked what name I should tell you. "No name at all," she said.'

'I will go, Becky.'

'Poor Nancy!' was my mental ejaculation; 'she has got into trouble again. It was perhaps too much to expect her to remain with people who believe her to be so much worse than she really is, just when she needs to be encouraged and strengthened.' I was stepping from the porch, when Becky earnestly pleaded for permission to accompany me.

'Do, please, let me come too, Miss Haddon, dear!' she whispered. 'I could stand a little way off, so as not to hear; and if she touches you'——

'She will not hurt me, Becky. Do not fear it. I know who she is.'

Becky stood aside, silenced if not convinced. I went out into the summer-scented air, and just pausing by the way to gather a rose for Nancy, passed on down the lane.

Not the slightest doubt as to whom I should see for a moment crossed my mind. My surprise was all the greater when I came in sight of a woman standing erect by the stile with her arms folded across her chest; who, a moment's glance told me, was not at all like Nancy—a tall thin woman, dressed in a long old-fashioned cloak, and what used to be termed a coal-scuttle bonnet.

Quite taken by surprise, I paused a moment to reconnoitre before advancing. She turned her face towards me, and although I did not immediately recognise who she was, I knew that I had seen her before.

'Do you wish to speak to me? I am Miss Haddon.'

'Yes; I know you are.'

Then it flashed upon me who she was.

'You are Mr Wentworth's housekeeper?'

'Yes.'

My heart sank with a foreboding of some evil, and for a moment I could not utter a word. Then screwing up my courage, I asked in as matter-of-course a tone as I could assume: 'He is quite well, I hope?'

'Nobody cares whether he's ill or well, I expect.'

'You are very much mistaken!' I replied, in some agitation. 'Every one who knows him would care a great deal! You ought to know that they would.'

I suppose my face and tone satisfied her that I was so far saying what I thought, though she only shifted her ground of offence in consequence.

'If he was ill he wouldn't be wanting people's pity.'

'But I hope—— Is he ill?'

'Why should he be ill?' she rejoined angrily. Then endeavouring to command herself, she went on: 'But I haven't come here to talk about that. Ill or well, he doesn't know I've come here, and would be very angry if he did. You must please to recollect that. I should have been here before, but it took me two days, putting this and that together, to find out where you live. You are living with the ladies at the cottage down there?'

'Yes.'

'Well, that can't be much of a place; but I suppose situations are not so plentiful, and anything is better than'——

'What is it you have come to say to me?' I asked shortly.

'You are very masterful, and know how to get your way when you want it. You two are a match for each other; and I knew you would find that out. I knew no good would come of it when I let you get the better of me that day; and I'd sooner do anything than come to you now. You may be sure of that.'

'I know that for some foolish reason you took a prejudice against me; but being disliked before one is known, ought not to distress one, though I should prefer not being disliked.'

'If you're not hurt you needn't complain,' she replied, as though determined not to yield an inch.

'What have you come to say to me?' I repeated. 'I suppose you did not come all this way to remind me that you are prejudiced against me?'

'No.' She looked over the hedge and around in all directions before continuing; then said in a low voice: 'You thought my master's looked but a poor place for a gentleman born to live in, that day. I saw how sharp you was to notice, and how poor and shabby you thought it all was.'

'You are too ready to ascribe thoughts to me,' I replied.

'But you did now; didn't you? You can't say that you didn't think things looked a bit poor?'

'Mr Wentworth can afford to be more careless about appearances than can most people,' I said, not in the least comprehending her drift. 'It was all well enough for a bachelor's home.'

'Ay, well enough for a bachelor's home perhaps; but not for a married couple, eh?'

'Really!'

'Try to keep your temper for another five minutes, if you please, Miss. I know there's no love lost between us two; but I've come here because I've got something to say; and proud and masterful as you are, I know you are the