Enid dropped her eyes. She did not care just then to ask any questions about Cynthia West. If Miss Vane knew the story, she evidently considered it unfit for Enid's ears. "And now, my dear, what brings you to town," said aunt Leo briskly, when the meal was ended, and Enid had been installed on a comfortable sofa, where she was ordered to "lie still and rest;" "and how did you induce Richard and Flossy to let you come?" "I ought perhaps to have told you as soon as I came in, aunt Leo," said Enid, sitting up, "that nobody knew--that, in fact, I have run away from Beechfield, and that I never, never can go back!" "Oh," said Miss Vane, "that's rather sudden, is it not? But I suppose you have a reason?" "Yes, aunt Leo, but one which--at present--I cannot tell." "Cannot tell, Enid, my dear?" "Not just yet--not until I have consulted some one else." "Oh, Hubert, I suppose?" "No," said Enid, blushing and holding down her head--"not Hubert." Miss Vane put up her gold-rimmed eye-glasses, and inspected her for a minute or two. "You look as if you had been worried out of your life!" she said. "You are as thin as a thread-paper! Well, you will not be worried here, my child. You can stay as long as you like, and tell me everything or nothing, as you please. One thing I will say--I suppose Flossy is at the bottom of it all?" "Yes, aunt Leo." "That accounts for everything. Flossy never could be trusted. Did she want you to be engaged to Hubert?" "I think so--at first. Now I do not know." "I suppose they badgered you into it?" said Miss Vane thoughtfully. "Are you going on with it?"--in her usual abrupt tone. "With the engagement, aunt Leo? Oh, no!" "Come--that's a good thing!" said aunt Leo briskly. "For I don't think Hubert is quite worthy of you, my dear. He has disappointed me rather. Well, I won't bother you with any more questions, especially as I have a visitor coming at ten o'clock--a young parson from the country who has written to request an interview. There's the bell--I suppose he has arrived. Begging, I expect! I told Hodges---- Why, he's showing the man in here! Hodges----" But it was too late. Hodges always obeyed his mistress to the letter; and his mistress, thinking she would be alone, had ordered "the parson" to be shown into the dining-room. The presence of a visitor made no difference in Hodges' opinion. Accordingly, in spite of Miss Vane's signs and protests, he flung the door wide open, and announced, in a stentorian voice, the parson's name-- "Mr. Evandale." Then Miss Vane--and Hodges too, before he closed the door--beheld a curious sight; for, instead of looking at his hostess, the parson, who was a singularly handsome man, with a band of crape on his arm, made two strides to the sofa, from which Enid, with a low cry of joy, arose and flung herself into his arms. "My own darling!" exclaimed the man.