oon tea-drinking in the little study at the Priory--a home-
like unceremonious entertainment which Milly delighted in. She used
to seem to me on those occasions like some happy child playing at
being mistress of the house.

Augusta Darrell was almost always with us. I was sorely puzzled and
perplexed by her conduct at this time. It seemed to be all that a
kind stepmother's could be. Her old indifferent air had quite
vanished; she was more cordial, more affectionately interested in
Milly's happiness than I had supposed it possible she could be. The
girl was completely melted by the change in her manner, and
responded to this new warmth with artless confidence in its reality.

I remembered all I had seen and all I had suspected, and I could not
bring myself to believe implicitly in Milly's stepmother. There was
a shadowy fear, a vague distrust in my mind, not to be put away.

As I have said, she was always with us, entering into all our simple
amusements with an appearance of girlish pleasure. Our picnics, our
sketching expeditions, our afternoon tea-parties at the Priory, our
croquet-matches with the Rector's daughters, seemed all alike
agreeable to her. I noticed that her toilet was always perfect on
theses occasions, and that she neglected no art which could add to
her attractiveness; but she never in any way attempted to absorb Mr.
Egerton's attention--she never ignored his position as Milly's
accepted suitor.

For a long time I was deceived by her manner--almost convinced that
if she had ever cared for Angus Egerton in the past, it was a
passion that had died out of her heart. But there came a day when
one look of hers betrayed the real state of the case, and showed me
that all this newly-awakened regard for Milly, and pleasant
participation in her happiness, had been only a careful piece of
acting. It was nothing but a look--one earnest, despairing,
passionate look--that told me this, but it was a look that betrayed
the secret of a life. From that moment I never again trusted Augusta
Darrell.

With the beginning of autumn the weather changed, and there came a
dull rainy season. Trouble came to us with the change of the
weather. There was a good deal of low fever about Thornleigh, and
Milly caught it. She had never neglected her visit amongst the poor,
even in favour of those pleasant engagements with Angus Egerton; and
there is no doubt she had taken the fever from some of the
cottagers.

She was not alarmi