her on the terrace in the sun.

"I am going to see if they will not tell me, Bawn," my godmother said
presently, standing up. "And I shall not rest till I have found out.
Garret Dawson will find it a very different thing to frighten me. Your
grandfather is very old, Bawn, or this would not have happened."

She went after them, and I saw her take an arm of each and go down the
garden with them, they leaning on her.

When they were out of sight I went into the library to write my letter
to Theobald, taking the blotting-pad and pen and ink and paper to my
favourite seat in the oriel. There presently my godmother found me. I
was getting on but slowly with the letter, for my unhappy thoughts were
grinding upon each other like the stones of a quern, trying to find a
solution of something that could not be solved.

"Lord St. Leger would do everything but tell me the whole truth," she
said. "Poor souls! They think I ought not to be told evil of Luke, as
though I were not the one to say that I did not believe it. There is
something of money in it, but there is worse than money. What is one to
do in this darkness? They don't see how cruel it is to me, to keep me in
the dark. I have to be patient with them because they are so old."

Then she stooped and kissed me.

"I must go back to Castle Clody now," she said. "I wonder how my baby
has done without me? She does worse without me than she thinks."

I had heard her before call her cousin her baby, and indeed it was true
that Miss Joan depended on her for everything.

Then her eye fell on my letter, and she asked me if I were writing to
Theobald; and when I answered her that I was she put her hand on my head
and told me not to be anxious about Theobald, because she was sure he
was all right and that a letter was only delayed.

"Don't lose your beauty-sleep any more, Bawn," she said, "for I am sure
there is a letter on its way. All this has spoilt your looks since
yesterday."

As the day went on it grew very hot. All the windows were open, without
making the room cooler; there was a sleepy sound of insects in the grass
outside. Bees droned in and out of the window. White clouds sailed
across the sky; and a soft, warm wind rustled the leaves with a sound
like rain upon them.

I remember closing my eyes and leaning my head against the
window-shutter. I suppose I was tired after the wakefulness of the
night. Anyhow, I must have fallen asleep and slept a couple of hours.

W