tely secure
it is for us to heal the breach between them."

He remained thoughtful for a few moments, apparently in doubt as to
the wisdom of acting upon her suggestion. Surely in the situation was
an element of humor, for, happily, I was being forearmed.

"It might possibly be good policy," he remarked at last. "If we could
only bring them together again he would cease his constant striving to
solve the enigma. We know well that he can never do that; nevertheless
his constant efforts are as annoying as they are dangerous."

"That's just my opinion. There is danger to us in his constant
inquiries, which are much more ingenious and careful than we imagine."

"Well, my child," he said, "you've stuck to me in this in a manner
that few women would have dared. If you really think it necessary to
bring Boyd and Ethelwynn together again you must do it entirely alone,
for I could not possibly appear on the scene. He must never meet me,
or the whole thing would be revealed."

"For your sake I am prepared to make the attempt," she said. "The fact
of being Ethelwynn's sister gives me freedom to speak my mind to him."

"And to tell him some pretty little fiction about her?" he added,
laughing.

"Yes. It will certainly be necessary to put an entirely innocent face
on recent events in order to smooth matters over," she admitted,
joining in his laughter.

"Rather a difficult task to make the affair at Kew appear innocent,"
he observed. "But you're really a wonderful woman, Mary. The way
you've acted your part in this affair is simply marvellous. You've
deceived everyone--even that old potterer, Sir Bernard himself."

"I've done it for your sake," was her response. "I made a promise, and
I've kept it. Up to the present we are safe, but we cannot take too
many precautions. We have enemies and scandal-seekers on every side."

"I admit that," he replied, rather impatiently, I thought. "If you
think it a wise course you had better lose no time in placing
Ethelwynn's innocence before her lover. You will see him in the
morning, I suppose?"

"Probably not. He leaves by the eight o'clock train," she said. "When
my plans are matured I will call upon him in London."

"And if any woman can deceive him, you can, Mary," he laughed. "In
those widow's weeds of yours you could deceive the very devil
himself!"

Mrs. Courtenay's airy talk of deception threw an entirely fresh light
upon her character. Hitherto I had held her in considerab