ed, almost in the language of
the tramp detective:

"It's a thing for time to unravel. It's a play just begun. It's a hard,
hard knot."

And, then and there, she took Sybil and Evan to her generous heart of
hearts, and mentally resolved to be their champion and friend to the
uttermost, while she would judge their parents and their brother
according as these dealt by the unfortunates.

It was many days before she saw Evan, for, although in true woman
fashion, she longed to scold him first for so sacrificing himself, and
praise him after for his generous true heartedness, she knew that he
would only be distressed by such an interview, and would obey a summons
from her reluctantly if at all.

But one day, just as she was driving her ponies out through the gates of
Wardour Place, she saw a horseman riding furiously up the road, and a
nearer view revealed Frank Lamotte's fine horse and mounted by Evan.

His eyes were flaming with excitement, and there was a burning spot of
red on either cheek as he reined up his horse beside her, and Constance
saw at a glance that, again, he was perfectly sober.

"Conny," he cried breathlessly, "it has come."

[Illustration: "Conny, it has come."]

"What has come, Evan?"

"The day we hoped for; we have heard from Sybil."

"A letter! Oh Evan, tell me all about it."

"I can't, there is no time; only, Con., it's your turn now. It's your
time to strike for Sybil. They are holding council over the letter, and
can't decide, whether the old gentleman shall go at once and see Sybil;
whether they shall bring her back and swallow the Burrill; for, it seems
he must be swallowed, and what society will think about it, are the
questions that they are agitating. Mother says, that Sybil must and
shall come back; father says he will go and see her; and Frank--" he
broke off abruptly and bent down to look at his saddle girth.

"And Frank; what does he say, Evan?"

"Frank is a fool," snapped Evan irrelevantly. "What _he_ says is no
matter; only, Conny, now is your time, if you will only have faith in
what I say. You are out with your ponies; drive straight to Mapleton,
and don't mention me. You will be admitted to mother. Father is there,
and Frank; give them the least chance, and they will tell you about
Sybil, and then you can manage the rest. Tell them to bring her back,
even with that beastly incumbrance. They will listen to you; they won't
to me. If you fail me here, then--"

"Then your