t. Magdalen held her hand, and spoke encouragingly
from time to time.

You had to be constantly holding Fay's hand, or kissing her, or taking
her in your arms if you were to make her feel that you loved her. The
one light austere touch, the long grave look, that between reserved and
sympathetic natures goes deeper than any caress, were nothing to Fay.

It was a long drive to Lostford, and to-day it seemed interminable.

The lonely chalk road seemed to stretch forever across the down. Now and
then a few heavily-matted, fatigued-looking sheep, hustled by
able-bodied lambs, got in the way. The postman, horn on shoulder, passed
them on his way to Priesthope with the papers.

Once a man on a horse cantered past across the grass at some distance.
Magdalen recognised Wentworth on Conrad. She saw him turn into the
bridle path that led to Priesthope. He had then just returned from
London.

"He is on his way to see Fay," said Magdalen to herself, "and he is
actually in a hurry. How interested he must be in the ardour of his own
emotions at this moment. He will have a delightful ride, and he can
analyse his feelings of disappointment at not seeing her, on his way
home to tea."

Magdalen glanced at Fay, but she still lay back with closed eyes. She
had not seen that passing figure.

Magdalen's mind followed Wentworth.

"Does she realise the complications that must almost certainly ensue
with Wentworth directly her confession is made?

"Will her first step towards a truer life, her first action of
reparation estrange him from her?"

* * * * *

The Bishop was pacing up and down in the library at Lostford, waiting
for Magdalen and Fay, when the servant brought in the day's papers. He
took them up instantly with the alertness of a man who can only make
time for necessary things by seizing every spare moment.

"Oh! you two wicked women," he said as he opened the _Times_. "Why are
you late? Why are you late?"

They were only five minutes late.

His swift eye travelled from column to column. Suddenly his attention
was arrested. He became absorbed. Then he laid down the paper, and said
below his breath "Thank God."

At that moment Magdalen and Fay were announced.

For a second it seemed as if the Bishop had forgotten them. Then he
recollected and went forward to meet them. He knew that only a matter of
supreme urgency could have made Magdalen word her telegram as she had
worded it, and whe