ct; and, my dear Enid, we can do
nothing. Make your mind easy on that point. Our highest duty now is to
hold our tongues."

He thought, naturally enough, that she had heard of Florence's secret
interviews with Sydney Vane--so much, he was certain, even the
village-people knew--that in her visits to the cottages she had heard
some story of this kind, and had been distressed--that was all.

"Do you really think so?" said Enid, clinging to him. She was only too
thankful to get rid of the responsibility of judging for herself. "You
do not think that uncle Richard ought to know?"

"My dear girl, what an idea! Certainly not! Do you want to break the old
man's heart?"

"He is very fond of little Dick," murmured Enid, rather to herself than
to him.

He did not lay hold of the clue that her words might have given him if
he had attended to them more closely. He went on encouragingly--

"And of his wife too. No, dear, we cannot wreck his happiness by
scruples of that kind. We must endure our knowledge--or our
suspicions--in silence. Besides, what you have heard may not be true."

"Do you think so, Hubert?" she said wistfully.

"It is better surely to take a charitable view, is it not?"

"Oh, thank you! That is just what I wanted!" she said, a new brightness
stealing into her eyes and cheeks. "Yes, I am sure that I must have been
hard and uncharitable. I will try to think better things. And, oh,
Hubert, you have really made me happy now!"

"That is what I wanted," said Hubert, with a sigh, as for the first time
he pressed his lips to hers. "Your happiness, Enid, is all that I wish
to secure."

He was in earnest; and it did not seem hard to him that in trying to
secure her happiness he had perhaps lost his own.

CHAPTER XXII.

"A Grand Morning Concert will be given on Thursday, June 25th, at
Ebury's Rooms, by the pupils of Madame della Scala. By kind permission
of Mr. Mapleson, the following _artistes_ will appear." Then followed a
list of well known operatic vocalists, also Miss This, That, and the
other--"and Miss Cynthia West." The last half-dozen names were not as
yet famous.

The above intimation, together with much detail concerning time, place,
and performers, was printed on a very large gilt-edged card; and two
such cards, enclosed in a thick square envelope, lay upon Hubert Lepel's
breakfast-table some months after the New Year's holiday which he had
spent at Beechfield Hall.

He looked at them w