"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Vane, a little hurriedly. "You should not attend to all her fancies, Parker. You know that she has very odd fancies indeed sometimes. The shock of her father's death when she was a child had a very injurious effect upon her nerves, and I should never be surprised at anything that she chose to do or say. Pray don't get into the way of repeating her words, or of imagining that they must necessarily be true!" "No, ma'am," said Parker submissively. Evidently there was nothing more for her to say. Well, perhaps she had put her mistress on her guard. "Oh, by-the-bye, Parker! There are two dresses of mine in the wardrobe--the brown one and the silk--that you can do what you like with. And I was thinking of sending a little present to your mother. You may take this purse--there are seven pounds in it; send it to her from me, if you like, as a little acknowledgment of your faithful service. And, if--if there is anything else that I can do for her, you need only mention it." "Thank you, ma'am," said Parker, but without enthusiasm. "I don't know as there's anything that she wants at present." "Take the purse," said Flossy impatiently; "and then go away and come back when I ring. I won't have my hair brushed just now. Is Miss Vane better?" "Yes, ma'am--she's better now." And Parker went away, knowing very well that she had been bribed to hold her tongue. But after that interview she noticed that Enid seemed to recover tone and strength, that for a few succeeding days she was more like herself than she had been of late, and that the symptoms of faintness and palpitation which she had mentioned to Mr. Ingledew disappeared. Parker nodded mysteriously as she remarked on these facts to herself, and thought that for once her interference had had a good effect. She had lately found less to report concerning Miss Vane's movements than before Mr. Lepel's visit; for Enid's ministrations amongst the poor had been almost entirely brought to a close, on the ground that close cottages and the sight of suffering must necessarily be bad for her health. Accordingly she had gone less and less to the village, and had seen almost nothing of Mr. Evandale. Parker, being thus less often "on duty," found more time than usual for her own various scraps of business, and took occasion one evening to run out to the post-office when all the family were at dinner; and while at the post-office she noticed a stranger in the village street--a highly respectable, venerable-looking old man with picturesque white hair and beard. "That's Mr. Dare, who's a-stayin' at the inn," said the postmistress to Parker, who was a person of considerable importance in village eyes. "Such a nice old gentleman! He comes from America, where they say he's made a fortune, and he's very liberal with his money."