evening; she had not dined, and was gone to her room. Miss Nunn could
not receive him.

He went home, and wrote to his cousin.

The next morning he came upon a passage in the newspaper which seemed
to suggest a cause for Miss Barfoot's indisposition. It was the report
of an inquest. A girl named Bella Royston had poisoned herself. She was
living alone, without occupation, and received visits only from one
lady. This lady, her name Miss Barfoot, had been supplying her with
money, and had just found her a situation in a house of business; but
the girl appeared to have gone through troubles which had so disturbed
her mind that she could not make the effort required of her. She left a
few lines addressed to her benefactress, just saying that she chose
death rather than the struggle to recover her position.

It was Saturday. He decided to call in the afternoon and see whether
Mary had recovered.

Again a disappointment. Miss Barfoot was better, and had been away
since breakfast; Miss Nunn was also absent.

Everard sauntered about the neighbourhood, and presently found himself
in the gardens of Chelsea Hospital. It was a warm afternoon, and so
still that he heard the fall of yellow leaves as he walked hither and
thither along the alleys. His failure to obtain an interview with Miss
Nunn annoyed him; but for her presence in the house he would not have
got into this habit of going there. As far as ever from harbouring any
serious thoughts concerning Rhoda, he felt himself impelled along the
way which he had jokingly indicated in talk with Micklethwaite; he was
tempted to make love to her as an interesting pastime, to observe how
so strong-minded a woman would conduct herself under such
circumstances. Had she or not a vein of sentiment in her character? Was
it impossible to move her as other women are moved? Meditating thus, he
looked up and saw the subject of his thoughts. She was seated a few
yards away, and seemingly had not yet become aware of him, her eyes
were on the ground, and troubled reverie appeared in her countenance.

'I have just called at the house, Miss Nunn. How is my cousin to-day?'

She had looked up only a moment before he spoke, and seemed vexed at
being thus discovered.

'I believe Miss Barfoot is quite well,' she answered coldly, as they
shook hands.

'But yesterday she was not so.'

'A headache, or something of the kind.'

He was astonished. Rhoda spoke with a cold indifference. She has rise