up my attention,' said Gladys
a trifle soberly. 'I hope you have come to stay a few days--until
to-morrow, at least?'

'Are all your other guests away?' inquired Mrs. Fordyce, with the
faintest trace of hardness in her voice.

'Christina Balfour is here still. Her companion left this morning rather
suddenly,' said Gladys, and it was evident that she felt rather
distressed. 'In fact, she ran away from Bourhill.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed Mrs. Fordyce, in astonishment. 'Why should she have
run away? It would have been quite sufficient, surely, for her to have
said she wished to return to Glasgow. You were not keeping her here
against her will, I presume?'

'No,' replied Gladys a trifle unsteadily. 'I cannot say she has treated
us well. It was a very silly as well as a wrong proceeding to get up in
the middle of the night and leave the door wide open, as she did. She
has disappointed me very much.'

Mrs. Fordyce looked at Gladys in a kind of wonder. Her candour and her
justness were as conspicuous as her decision of character. It evidently
cost her pride no effort to admit that she had made a mistake, though
the admission was proof of the correct prophecy made by Mrs. Fordyce
when the hot words had passed between them concerning Liz at Bellairs
Crescent. Mrs. Fordyce, however, was generous enough to abstain from
undue triumph.

'Well, well, my dear, we all make mistakes, though we don't all admit so
readily as you have done that they are mistakes,' she said
good-humouredly. 'I suppose the girl felt the restraint of this quiet
life too much. What was her occupation before she came down? I don't
know that I heard anything about her.'

'She was once a mill girl with Mr. Fordyce,' answered Gladys. 'She is
the girl who disappeared, don't you remember?--Walter Hepburn's sister.'

'Oh!'

The lawyer drew a long breath.

'Perhaps it is just as well she has disappeared again. I did not know
_that_ was the girl all the talk was about. Well, are you not tired of
this quiet life yet?'

'Oh no; I like it very much. But when will you allow the girls to come
down, Mrs. Fordyce? I think it is too bad that they have never yet paid
me a proper visit at Bourhill.'

'They are talking of London again--wheedling their poor dear papa, as
they do every May. I think you must go with us again, my dear.'

'Yes, I should like that,' replied Gladys, with brightening face; and
Mrs. Fordyce perceived that she had sustained a very severe
disa