t's lodging.

It was not that she cared very much for her brother, or that she was
likely to prove a good nurse, but that she was afraid, from what Sabina
said, that Hubert might be doing something rash--making confession
perhaps, or taking Cynthia West into his confidence. If she were on the
spot, she felt that she could hinder any such rash proceeding with
Sabina's help.

But Sabina was not to the fore. When she heard that Mrs. Vane was coming
to town, she threw up her engagement and went back to her aunt's at
Camden Town. A trained nurse took her place, and Mrs. Vane lodged in the
house.

Contrary to the doctor's expectations, Hubert survived the crisis of his
fever, and passed at last into the convalescent stage; though very weak,
he was pronounced to be out of danger, and he began to grow stronger
every day. But, as every one who had known him in happier days had
reason to remark, he bore himself like an utterly broken-hearted,
broken-spirited man. It seemed as if he would never hold up his head
again--all hope went from him when Cynthia left his side.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Cynthia had, as Sabina suspected, gone straight to her father when she
left Russell Square. Some time before he had let her know that he was
still in England, and had sent her his address, warning her however not
to visit him unless she was obliged to do so. On this occasion she had
almost forgotten his warning; she went to him as a child often goes to
its parents, more for comfort than for absolute protection; and he was
astonished, as well as alarmed, when she flung herself into his arms and
wept on his shoulder, calling him now and then by all sorts of endearing
names, but refusing to explain to him the reason of her visit or of her
grief.

"It's not that man that you're fond of, is it, my dearie? He hasn't
played you false, has he?"

"No, father, no--not in the way you mean."

"He ain't worse--dying or anything?"

"Oh, no!"--with a sudden constriction of the heart, which might have
told her how dear Hubert was to her still.

"Then you've quarrelled?"

"I suppose we have," said Cynthia, with an unnatural hysterical laugh.
"Oh, yes--we have quarrelled, and we shall never see each other any
more!"

"In that case, my girl, you'd better cast in your lot with me. Shall we
leave England to-morrow?"

Cynthia was silent for a moment.

"Is it safer for you to go or to stay, father?"

"Well, it's about equal," said Westwood che