ugubrious thoughts; and, bracing
herself, she began to frame the new reply to Bishop Helmsdale--the plain,
unvarnished tale that was to supplant the undivulging answer first
written. She was engaged on this difficult problem till daylight faded
in the west, and the broad-faced moon edged upwards, like a plate of old
gold, over the elms towards the village. By that time Swithin had
reached Greenwich; her brother had gone she knew not whither; and she and
loneliness dwelt solely, as before, within the walls of Welland House.

At this hour of sunset and moonrise the new parlourmaid entered, to
inform her that Mr. Cecil's head clerk, from Warborne, particularly
wished to see her.

Mr. Cecil was her solicitor, and she knew of nothing whatever that
required his intervention just at present. But he would not have sent at
this time of day without excellent reasons, and she directed that the
young man might be shown in where she was. On his entry the first thing
she noticed was that in his hand he carried a newspaper.

'In case you should not have seen this evening's paper, Lady Constantine,
Mr. Cecil has directed me to bring it to you at once, on account of what
appears there in relation to your ladyship. He has only just seen it
himself.'

'What is it? How does it concern me?'

'I will point it out.'

'Read it yourself to me. Though I am afraid there's not enough light.'

'I can see very well here,' said the lawyer's clerk stepping to the
window. Folding back the paper he read:--

'"NEWS FROM SOUTH AFRICA.

'"CAPE TOWN, _May_ 17 (_via_ Plymouth).--A correspondent of the _Cape
Chronicle_ states that he has interviewed an Englishman just arrived
from the interior, and learns from him that a considerable
misapprehension exists in England concerning the death of the
traveller and hunter, Sir Blount Constantine--"'

'O, he's living! My husband is alive,' she cried, sinking down in nearly
a fainting condition.

'No, my lady. Sir Blount is dead enough, I am sorry to say.'

'Dead, did you say?'

'Certainly, Lady Constantine; there is no doubt of it.'

She sat up, and her intense relief almost made itself perceptible like a
fresh atmosphere in the room. 'Yes. Then what did you come for?' she
asked calmly.

'That Sir Blount has died is unquestionable,' replied the lawyer's clerk
gently. 'But there has been some mistake about the date of his death.'

'He died of malarious fever on the ba