and body in the pleasant
peaceable atmosphere of her house.

Miss Vane did not give many parties or go much into society about this
time. With those whom she really loved she was always at her best; and
many of her associates would have been thoroughly astonished to see how
tender, how loving this worldly, cynical old woman, as they thought her,
could show herself to a girl like Enid Vane. She gave up many
engagements for Enid's sake, and lived quietly and as best suited her
young visitor. For Enid, although rapidly recovering, was not yet strong
enough to bear the excitement of London gaieties. Besides, Dick was
reported to be very ill, and during his illness Enid could not have
borne to go out to theatres and balls.

The General had been driving to the station when the accident took
place. The horse had taken fright and grown unmanageable; the phaeton
had been nearly dashed to pieces; and Dick, who had been on the box
beside his father, had had a terrible fall. He had never spoken or been
conscious since; he lingered on from day to day in a state of complete
insensibility; and while he was in that state the General would not
leave him. Of Flossy nobody heard a word. The General wrote to his
sister, and sent kind messages to Enid, but did not mention Flossy. Aunt
Leo and Enid both wondered why.

Enid had been in town nearly a week, when one morning a letter was
brought to her at the sight of which she colored deeply. She was
sitting at the luncheon-table with her aunt, and for a few minutes she
left the letter beside her plate unopened.

"Won't you read your letter, dear?" said Miss Vane.

"Thank you, aunt Leo." Then she took the letter and opened it; but her
color varied strangely as she read, and, when she had finished it, she
pushed it towards her aunt. "Will you read it?" she said quietly. "It
seems to me that he does not understand our position."

The servants were not in the room, and she could talk freely. Aunt Leo
settled her eye-glasses on her nose, and looked at the letter.

"Why, it's from Hubert!" she said breathlessly.

Then she read it half aloud; and Enid winced at the sound of some of the
words.

"My dearest Enid," Hubert had written--"I have just heard that you are
in town. If I could come to see you, I would; but you know, I suppose,
that I have been ill. I have had no letter from you for what seems an
interminable time. I must ask you to excuse more from me to-day--my hand
is abominably sh