her senses. In dread of another
attack, I determined to stop at the next station. It looked such a poor
place, when we got to it, that I hesitated. Mrs. Vimpany persuaded me
to go on. The next station, she said, was _her_ station. 'Stop there,'
she suggested, 'and let my husband look at the girl. I ought not
perhaps to say it, but you will find no better medical man out of
London.' I took the good creature's advice gratefully. What else could
I do?"

"What would you have done," Mountjoy inquired, "if Rhoda had been
strong enough to get to the end of the journey?"

"I should have gone on to London, and taken refuge in a lodging--you
were in town, as I believed, and my father might relent in time. As it
was, I felt my lonely position keenly. To meet with kind people, like
Mr. Vimpany and his wife, was a real blessing to such a friendless
creature as I am--to say nothing of the advantage to Rhoda, who is
getting better every day. I should like you to see Mrs. Vimpany, if she
is at home. She is a little formal and old fashioned in her manner--but
I am sure you will be pleased with her. Ah! you look round the room!
They are poor, miserably poor for persons in their position, these
worthy friends of mine. I have had the greatest difficulty in
persuading them to let me contribute my share towards the household
expenses. They only yielded when I threatened to go to the inn. You are
looking very serious, Hugh. Is it possible that you see some objection
to my staying in this house?"

The drawing-room door was softly opened, at the moment when Iris put
that question. A lady appeared on the threshold. Seeing the stranger,
she turned to Iris.

"I didn't know, dear Miss Henley, that you had a visitor. Pray pardon
my intrusion."

The voice was deep; the articulation was clear; the smile presented a
certain modest dignity which gave it a value of its own. This was a
woman who could make such a commonplace thing as an apology worth
listening to. Iris stopped her as she was about to leave the room. "I
was just wishing for you," she said. "Let me introduce my old friend,
Mr. Mountjoy. Hugh, this is the lady who has been so kind to me--Mrs.
Vimpany."

Hugh's impulse, under the circumstances, was to dispense with the
formality of a bow, and to shake hands. Mrs. Vimpany met this friendly
advance with a suavity of action, not often seen in these days of
movement without ceremony. She was a tall slim woman, of a certain age.
Art had s