could not thank her enough. He bade farewell
to his niece, telling her that he hoped she would by and by be spending
her holidays at Northmoor if all went well.

Constance had begun to grow alarmed, and watched for an opportunity of
imploring Mrs. Bury to tell her whether Aunt Mary were really very ill.

Mrs. Bury laughed, and confided to her a secret, which made her at once
glad, alarmed, and important.

'Oh, and is no one to know?' said little Constance, with rosy cheeks.

'Not till leave is given,' said Mrs. Bury. 'You see there is still so
much risk of things going wrong, that they both wish nothing to be said
at present. I thought they had spoken to you.'

'Oh no. But--but--' and Constance could not go on, as her eyes filled
with tears.

'Is there special cause for anxiety, you mean, my dear? Hardly for
_her_, though it was unlucky that she was as unknowing as you, and I
don't see how she is to be taken over these roads into a more civilised
place. But I shall stay on and see them through with it, and I daresay
we shall do very well. I am used enough to looking after my own
daughters, and nobody particularly wants me at home.'

'That's what Aunt Mary meant by saying you were _so_ very good!'

'Well, it would be sheer inhumanity to leave them to themselves, and the
mercies of Ratzes, and there seems to be no one else that could come.'

'I'm glad I know!' said Constance, with a long breath. 'Only what shall
I do if any one asks me about her?'

'Say she had a nasty fall, which makes it undesirable to move her just
yet. It is the simple truth, and what you would have naturally said but
for this little communication of mine.'

'I suppose,' said Constance, in a tone Mrs. Bury did not understand, 'it
will be all known before my Christmas holidays?'

'Oh yes, my dear, long before that. I'll write to you when I have
anything to tell.'

For which Constance thanked her heartily, and thenceforth felt a great
deal older for the confidence, which delighted as well as made her
anxious, for she was too fond of her uncle and aunt, as well as too young
and simple, for it to have occurred to her how the matter might affect
her brother.

After seeing much more on her road than she had done before, and won
golden opinions from her escort for intelligence and obligingness, she
was safely deposited in the train for Colbeam, without having gone home.

She had made up her mind to pass Sunday at her boarding-hous