How can you have killed your father
when he is not dead? My husband has only just left me. He seems
hopeful about him; he thinks consciousness is returning; but he must
have perfect quiet. Even our voices may disturb him--that is why I
must beg you to come back with me at once."

"You are not deceiving me, Mrs. Luttrell?" returned Alwyn,
suspiciously. "You are sure that he is not dead?"

"Quite sure," she returned, quietly; and then again Greta put out her
hand.

"You will come with us, will you not, Alwyn?" she said, with sisterly
tenderness; "there is so much that I have to hear and that you must
tell me, and we must not talk here. To think that we should have met
like this, by accident--if there be such a thing as accident in this
life of ours. But no; it was Providence that brought me to this
house." And as Olivia followed them down the dark shrubbery she could
hear her quiet tones still talking, as though to a younger brother.

Olivia was too tired to do more than wonder vaguely as she listened;
the sight of her own little parlour and Martha's sturdy figure
arranging the tea-table gave her a pleasant revulsion of feeling. When
Martha whispered confidentially, as she brought in the lamp, "The
seed-cake is nicely baked; hadn't I better bring it in, ma'am?" Olivia
gave a little hysterical laugh. After all that tragedy it was so odd
to think of freshly baked cakes.

"Yes, yes, and make the tea quickly," she said, waving off the little
handmaiden impatiently; and Martha, somewhat affronted and vaguely
alarmed, retreated to the kitchen.

"What's come over the mistress?" she said to herself. "I have never
known her so huffy." But Olivia, with difficulty recovering her
calmness, busied herself in ministering to her guests.

"Mr. Alwyn," she said, gently, "you must rest on that couch--you are
just worn out; but a cup of tea will do you good. Greta, you must stop
and have some too. Do you know this is the first time you have entered
this house? Dot is asleep. I am going up to see her now. Would you
like to come too?"--for she guessed intuitively that the girl was
longing to question her--and Greta, with a grateful look, followed her
at once.

Olivia kissed the sleeping child with her usual tenderness. How she
longed to lie down beside Dot and sleep off her overpowering weariness;
but the day's work was not over.

Greta, who had only just glanced at the little one, put her arms
suddenly round Oliv