randest--and to
the credit of woman be it said--one of the commonest virtues of the sex.
Little by little, the sweet feminine charm of Anne's face came softly
and sadly back. The inbred nobility of the woman's nature answered the
call which the man had unconsciously made on it. She touched Arnold on
the shoulder.

"This has been hard on _you,_" she said. "And I am to blame for it. Try
and forgive me, Mr. Brinkworth. I am sincerely sorry. I wish with all my
heart I could comfort you!"

"Thank you, Miss Silvester. It was not a very pleasant feeling, to be
hiding from Blanche as if I was afraid of her--and it's set me thinking,
I suppose, for the first time in my life. Never mind. It's all over now.
Can I do any thing for you?"

"What do you propose doing to-night?"

"What I have proposed doing all along--my duty by Geoffrey. I have
promised him to see you through your difficulties here, and to provide
for your safety till he comes back. I can only make sure of doing that
by keeping up appearances, and staying in the sitting-room to-night.
When we next meet it will be under pleasanter circumstances, I hope. I
shall always be glad to think that I was of some service to you. In the
mean time I shall be most likely away to-morrow morning before you are
up."

Anne held out her hand to take leave. Nothing could undo what had been
done. The time for warning and remonstrance had passed away.

"You have not befriended an ungrateful woman," she said. "The day may
yet come, Mr. Brinkworth, when I shall prove it."

"I hope not, Miss Silvester. Good-by, and good luck!"

She withdrew into her own room. Arnold locked the sitting-room door, and
stretched himself on the sofa for the night.

* * * * *

The morning was bright, the air was delicious after the storm.

Arnold had gone, as he had promised, before Anne was out of her room.
It was understood at the inn that important business had unexpectedly
called him south. Mr. Bishopriggs had been presented with a handsome
gratuity; and Mrs. Inchbare had been informed that the rooms were taken
for a week certain.

In every quarter but one the march of events had now, to all appearance,
fallen back into a quiet course. Arnold was on his way to his estate;
Blanche was safe at Windygates; Anne's residence at the inn was assured
for a week to come. The one present doubt was the doubt which hung over
Geoffrey's movements. The one event still involved in darkness turned on
the quest