"Errington is completely ruined!" De Burgh's words repeated themselves over and over again in Katherine's ears through the darkness and silence of her sleepless night. What would become of him--that grave, stately man who had never known the touch of anything common or unclean? How would he live? And what an additional blow the rupture of his engagement with Lady Alice! He was certainly very fond of her. It was like him to give up all he possessed to save the honor of his name, but how would it be if he were penniless? Had _she_ not robbed him, he might have enough to live comfortably after satisfying every one. As she thought, a resolution to restore what she had taken formed itself in her mind. Perhaps if he could show that he had still a solid capital, his engagement to Lady Alice need not be broken off. If she could restore him to competence, he would not refuse some provision for the poor dear boys. Were she secure on _this_ point, she would be happier without the money than with it. But the humiliation of confession--and to _such_ a father confessor? How could she do it? Yet it must be done. "Good gracious, Katherine, you look like a ghost!" was Mrs. Ormonde's salutation when the little party met at breakfast next morning. "Pray have you seen one?" "Yes; I have been surrounded by a whole gallery of ghosts all night--which means that a bad conscience would not let me sleep." "What nonsense! Why, you are a perfect saint, Kate, in some ways; but in others I must say you are foolish; yes, dear, I must say it--_very_ foolish." "I dare say I am," returned Katherine; "but whether I am or not, I have an intense headache, so you must excuse me if I am very stupid." "I am sure you want change, Katherine. Do come back with me to town. There is quite time enough to put up all you want before 11, and the train goes at 11.10. There is a little dance, 'small and early' at Lady Mary Vincent's this evening, and I know she would be delighted to see you." "I do not think hot rooms the best cure for a headache," observed Miss Payne; "and till yesterday Katherine had been looking remarkably well. She was out boating too long in the sun." "You are very good to trouble about me, Ada. My best cure is quiet. I will go and lie down as soon as I see you off, and I dare say shall be myself again in the evening. I may come up to town for a day or two before you return to Castleford, but I will let you know." Nothing more was said on the subject then, but when Katherine returned from the station after bidding her sister-in-law good-by, Miss Payne met her with a strong recommendation to take some "sal volatile and water, and to lie down at once." "I did not, of course, second Mrs. Ormonde's suggestions--the idea of your going for rest or health to _her_ house!--but I am really vexed to see you look so ill. How do you feel?"