"It was a wrong done to you?" "Yes--to me." "And to no one else?" Enid's head drooped. "I don't know--I can't tell. I must think it over." "Yes--think and pray," said the Rector gravely but tenderly; "and remember that truth should always prevail." "I know--I believe it; but it would do more harm than good." "Miss Vane, if I am indiscreet, I trust you will pardon me. If by any chance this confession has reference to the death of your father, Mr. Sydney Vane, it is your duty to make it known, at any cost to your own feelings." The girl looked up with an expression of relief. "It does not bear on that subject at all, Mr. Evandale." "I am glad. You will forgive me for alluding to it? A wild fancy crossed my mind that it had something to do with that." "I shall never forget your kindness," said Enid gratefully. "And if you are in perplexity--in any trouble--will you trust me to do all for you that is in my power? If you ever want help, you will remember that I am ready--ready for all--all that you might require----" He never finished his speech, which was perhaps fortunate for him. With Enid's soft eyes, slightly distressed and appealing in expression, looking straight into his own, with the sight before him of her pale, wistful face, the lovely lips which had fallen into so pathetic a curve of weariness and sorrow, how could the Rector be expected to preserve his self-possession? His thoughts and his words became confused; he did not quite know what he was saying, nor whether she heard and understood him aright. He was glad to remember afterwards that the expression of her countenance did not change; he brought neither alarm nor astonishment into her eyes; there were only gentle gratitude and a kind of hopelessness, the meaning of which he could not fathom, in the girl's still raised listening face. But at that very moment a knock came to the door; and half to the Rector's relief, half to his embarrassment, the General himself walked in. "Ah, thank Heaven, she is here!" were the old man's first words. "We thought she was lost, Mr. Evandale--we did indeed. I met your messenger on the way to the Hall, and sent him on for the carriage. A pretty time you've given us, young lady!" he said, smiling at Enid and pinching her chin, and then grasping the Rector's hand with a look of relief and gratitude which told its own story. "Miss Vane has been a good deal distressed and upset," said Mr. Evandale. "She was at Mrs. Meldreth's bedside when the old woman died this afternoon, and the scene was naturally very painful. I brought her here that she might rest and recover herself a little before going home."