rayford was thinking.

She saw Clara's position plainly; she understood the disturbing effect
of it on the mind of a young girl. Still, making all allowances,
she felt quite at a loss, so far, to account for Clara's excessive
agitation. Her quick observing faculty had just detected that Clara's
face showed no signs of relief, now that she had unburdened herself
of her secret. There was something clearly under the surface
here--something of importance that still remained to be discovered. A
shrewd doubt crossed Mrs. Crayford's mind, and inspired the next words
which she addressed to her young friend.

"My dear," she said abruptly, "have you told me all?"

Clara started as if the question terrified her. Feeling sure that she
now had the clew in her hand, Mrs. Crayford deliberately repeated her
question, in another form of words. Instead of answering, Clara suddenly
looked up. At the same moment a faint flush of color appeared in her
face for the first time.

Looking up instinctively on her side, Mrs. Crayford became aware of the
presence, in the conservatory, of a young gentleman who was claiming
Clara as his partner in the coming waltz. Mrs. Crayford fell into
thinking once more. Had this young gentleman (she asked herself)
anything to do with the untold end of the story? Was this the true
secret of Clara Burnham's terror at the impending return of Richard
Wardour? Mrs. Crayford decided on putting her doubts to the test.

"A friend of yours, my dear?" she asked, innocently. "Suppose you
introduce us to each other."

Clara confusedly introduced the young gentleman.

"Mr. Francis Aldersley, Lucy. Mr. Aldersley belongs to the Arctic
expedition."

"Attached to the expedition?" Mrs. Crayford repeated. "I am attached
to the expedition too--in my way. I had better introduce myself, Mr.
Aldersley, as Clara seems to have forgotten to do it for me. I am Mrs.
Crayford. My husband is Lieutenant Crayford, of the _Wanderer_. Do you
belong to that ship?"

"I have not the honor, Mrs. Crayford. I belong to the _Sea-mew_."

Mrs. Crayford's superb eyes looked shrewdly backward and forward between
Clara and Francis Aldersley, and saw the untold sequel to Clara's story.
The young officer was a bright, handsome, gentleman-like lad. Just the
person to seriously complicate the difficulty with Richard Wardour!
There was no time for making any further inquiries. The band had begun
the prelude to the waltz, and Francis Aldersley was wa