"I must apologize for troubling you, but I think you will have to see this good woman, Miss Ward by name. She arrived yesterday evening from London, and as she came to the Rectory for advice, we gave her a bed, and after hearing her story and sifting it well, my husband and I think it only right to bring her straight to you." Thorold stared at the two women in complete bewilderment. "But who in the world is it?" he asked. "It isn't a long lost wife, for I have never married, and I am morally certain that I have never set eyes on Miss Ward before!" "Miss Ward was not aware of your late cousin's death, or that you were in possession of his property," said Mrs. Gould, the rector's wife. "Oh, then her business was with him?" queried Thorold. Miss Ward for the first time looked up and spoke. She was a plain-featured woman dressed in black, and spoke with a slight American accent. "The death of Mr. Charles Holt has floored me," she said; "I was counting on his help. God knows, it's badly needed." "Well, if it is his private affair, I would rather discuss it with you privately. Come this way. Thank you, Mrs. Gould, for bringing her up. We will not keep you." He knew he was treating his rector's wife badly; but he had already suffered from her insatiable thirst for managing every person she came across. And he did not intend that she should point out to him now wherein his duty lay. Mrs. Gould rose from her seat with great annoyance. "I shall be glad to know in good time if you are going to put her up here to-night; and perhaps you will be able to send down to the Rectory for her luggage. We only took her in out of kindness last night. The village inn is not a desirable place for a single woman." "It is all such a mystery to me that I can make no promises or plans at present," said Thorold. And then he marched the stranger into his comfortable smoking-room, and drew up a chair to the fire for her. "Now," he said, "tell me in as few words as you can, who you are, and what your business is." "I was a maid of Mrs. Brendon's about eleven years ago, and then I became her companion and nursed her when she died, and I loved her. She was my best friend on earth, and I promised her to stick to her child, and so I have, but all along since I came across the letter, Mr. Charles Holt has been my goal and mainstay. And it has fairly knocked me over to know he is dead and buried!" "Will you tell me, please, who Mrs. Brendon was and what connection she was of my cousin?" "I reckon she was a cousin like yourself; and a little more too, judging from this letter, which I'd best show you." She produced a letter from her pocket which she handed to Thorold, and he stood leaning his back against the mantelpiece, whilst he read it. "MY DEAR LENA,—