When Marcus returned two hours later, he found their guest had betaken
himself to bed, and Olivia was able to give him a graphic account of
her afternoon.

"I am very much interested in Miss Williams," she observed presently;
"fancy her turning out to be the very tall girl in brown at St.
Matthew's."

"Did your ears burn just now, Livy," observed Marcus, mischievously.
"I am glad to find someone appreciates my wife properly; you seem to
have got on like a house on fire; well, you will be doing good work
there."

"She said you were rather alarmed about her father that first night."

"Did she? I never said so," he returned, dryly; "in some cases it is
best to reserve one's opinion; but of course at Mr. Williams's age it
is a grave matter;" then he drew his chair closer to the fire. "Life's
an awful muddle, Livy, as that man said in _Hard Times_; fancy the
loneliness of a young creature like that; why, she cannot be more than
two- or three-and-twenty, and her lawful protector drinking himself to
death."

Olivia shuddered, her own young life had been anxious and hardworking;
but compared with Greta Williams it had been strewn with roses. Could
any parents have been more honoured than hers had been? And then had
she not always had Aunt Madge's wise counsel and sympathy to aid her?
and, lastly, had not the sunshine of a happy love glorified it? But
Miss Williams apparently had none of these things.

"Not more than others I deserve, but God has given me more," she
thought, with a swelling heart, as she made her thanksgiving that night.

In spite of outside weather, there was plenty of life and movement in
the corner house at Galvaston Terrace. The next day Mr. Barton began
his sketch of Dot, and he soon became so absorbed in it that he seemed
to forget his weakness and lassitude.

Olivia watched the progress of the picture with intense delight, and
carried a favourable report of it on her next visit to Galvaston House.

"It is a striking likeness of my little girl," she said. "Even my
husband, who is not easy to please in such matters, allows that. He
owned yesterday that Mr. Barton is certainly a good artist, and
understands his business. I like to watch him? he looks so happy when
he is painting, as though he has forgotten all his troubles; he is
staying with us a day or two longer on account of the picture, but he
will certainly leave us on Thursday."

Mr. Gaythorne did not answer; he seemed to be cons