ad a
good bit o' trouble somehow; and I daresay it's likely, with a sister
like that on his hands. It's my belief, Cynthia, not that Mr. Lepel, but
his sister, Miss Florence Lepel, as she was then, did the deed and put
the blame on me. And I'm inclined to think as how Mr. Lepel knows it and
wouldn't tell."

"A woman! Could a woman manage a heavy gun like that?"

"If she was desperate, she could, my dear. It's wonderful what strength
a woman will have when she's in a temper. And maybe Mr. Vane failed her
at the last moment--wouldn't go with her away from England, or something
o' that kind--and she thought she would be revenged on him."

The theory did credit to Reuben Westwood's imagination; but it was a
mistaken one. At present, however, it seemed sufficiently credible to
give Cynthia much cause for reflection. She did not speak. Westwood gave
his knee a sudden stroke with one hand, expressive of growing amazement,
as he also meditated on the matter.

"And then for her to go and marry the old man--Sydney Vane's brother! It
beats all that I ever heard of! She must have got nerves of steel and
muscles of iron; she must be the boldest, hardest liar that ever trod
this earth. If I thought that all women was like her, Cynthia, I would
go to the devil at once! But I've known two good ones in my time, I
reckon--your mother and you--and that should p'r'aps be enough for any
man. Yes, she's married and got a child--a little lad that'll have the
estate and prevent the girl from coming to her own--at least, what would
have been her own if there had been no boy."

"You mean Miss Enid Vane?" said Cynthia, again with a curious softening
of the eyes.

"Yes, some outlandish name of that sort--'Enid,' is it? Well, you know
better than I. I'm glad you're breaking it off with that man Lepel,
Cynthia, for more reasons than one."

Cynthia hardly noticed the significance of his tone or the conjunction
of the two names in his remarks. She had something else in her mind
which she was anxious to have said.

"Father, I am to see Mr. Lepel this afternoon."

"Yes, my girl?"

"And I want to say good-bye to him for ever."

Westwood nodded; he was well pleased with her decision.

"And then I will go to America with you whenever you please. But one
thing I want you to allow me to do."

"Well, Cynthy?"

"I must tell Mr. Lepel who I am. I will not of course let him think that
I know anything of you now. He shall not know that you are a