A lady was waiting outside the lodge-gates. When I saw who it was, I meant to bow and pass on, but Miss Johnston called me. From her face, I dreaded it was some ill news about you. Your sister is a good woman and a kind. She said to me, when her explanations had set my mind at ease:-- "Doctor Urquhart, I believe you are a man to be trusted. Dora trusts you. Dora once said, you would be just, even to your enemies." I answered, I hoped it was something more than justice, that we owed even to our enemies. "That is not the question," she said, sharply; "I spoke only of justice. I would not do an injustice to the meanest thing--the vilest wretch that crawls." "No." She went on:-- "I have not liked you, Dr. Urquhart: nor do I know if my feelings are altered now--but I respect you. Therefore, you are the only person of whom I can ask a favour. It is a secret. Will you keep it so?" "Except from Theodora." "You are right. Have no secrets from Theodora. For her sake, and your own--for your whole life's peace--never, even in the lightest thing, deceive that poor child!" Her voice sharpened, her black eyes glittered a moment, and then she shrank back into her usual self. I see exactly the sort of woman, which, as you say, she will grow into--sister Penelope--aunt Penelope. Every one belonging to her must try, henceforth, to spare her every possible pang. After a few moments, I begged her to say what I could do for her. "Read this letter, and tell me if you think it is true." It was addressed to Sir William Treherne; the last humble appeal of a broken-down man; the signature "Francis Charteris." I tried my best to disguise the emotion which Miss Johnston herself did not show, and returned the letter, merely inquiring if Sir William had answered it? "No. He will not. He disbelieves the facts." "Do you, also?" "I cannot say. The--the writer was not always accurate in his statements." Women are, in some things, stronger and harder than men. I doubt if any man could have spoken as steadily as your sister did at this minute. While I explained to her, as I thought it right to do, though with the manner of one talking of a stranger to a stranger--the present position of Mr. Charteris, she replied not a syllable. Only passing a felled tree--she suddenly sank down upon it, and sat motionless. "What is he to do?" she said, at last. I replied that the Insolvent Court could free him from his debts, and grant him protection from further imprisonment; that though thus sunk in circumstances, a Government situation was hardly to be hoped for, still there were in Liverpool, clerkships and mercantile opportunities, in which any person so well educated as he, might begin the world again--health permitting. "His health was never good--has it failed him?" "I fear so."