ll the truth in the plainest and fewest words. When Mr. and
Mrs. Vanstone left Combe-Raven, in the March of the present year--"

Before he could complete the sentence, a sudden movement of Miss Garth's
interrupted him. She started violently, and looked round toward the
window. "Only the wind among the leaves," she said, faintly. "My nerves
are so shaken, the least thing startles me. Speak out, for God's sake!
When Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone left this house, tell me in plain words, why
did they go to London?"

In plain words, Mr. Pendril told her:

"They went to London to be married."

With that answer he placed a slip of paper on the table. It was the
marriage certificate of the dead parents, and the date it bore was March
the twentieth, eighteen hundred and forty-six.

Miss Garth neither moved nor spoke. The certificate lay beneath her
unnoticed. She sat with her eyes rooted on the lawyer's face; her mind
stunned, her senses helpless. He saw that all his efforts to break the
shock of the discovery had been efforts made in vain; he felt the vital
importance of rousing her, and firmly and distinctly repeated the fatal
words.

"They went to London to be married," he said. "Try to rouse yourself:
try to realize the plain fact first: the explanation shall come
afterward. Miss Garth, I speak the miserable truth! In the spring of
this year they left home; they lived in London for a fortnight, in the
strictest retirement; they were married by license at the end of that
time. There is a copy of the certificate, which I myself obtained on
Monday last. Read the date of the marriage for yourself. It is Friday,
the twentieth of March--the March of this present year."

As he pointed to the certificate, that faint breath of air among the
shrubs beneath the window, which had startled Miss Garth, stirred the
leaves once more. He heard it himself this time, and turned his face, so
as to let the breeze play upon it. No breeze came; no breath of air that
was strong enough for him to feel, floated into the room.

Miss Garth roused herself mechanically, and read the certificate. It
seemed to produce no distinct impression on her: she laid it on one side
in a lost, bewildered manner. "Twelve years," she said, in low, hopeless
tones--"twelve quiet, happy years I lived with this family. Mrs.
Vanstone was my friend; my dear, valued friend--my sister, I might
almost say. I can't believe it. Bear with me a little, sir, I can't
believe it yet.