er guest.

"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in
Canada?"

"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in
England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she
knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as
I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now."

"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her
health is much broken."

"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me--you may,
indeed."

"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I
have no authority to refuse their address."

She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had
considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the
conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time
she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it.

"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause,
during which she was turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice
was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something
of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from
meeting them."

"Are they in Paris?"

"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?"

"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming
to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly
seem strange."

"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty."

"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave
it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said;
"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping
that what I have to say to her may be welcome news."

"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?"

"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them."

"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me."

"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Norfolk into Cheshire is a
tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs.
Costello?"

"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me
offer you something--at least a glass of wine?"

But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious
paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of
the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time.

"What an od