"I am frightened," she said, "because I feel that I ought not to have come here, and yet I thought that you ought to know at once what has happened. Sir Leslie Borrowdean has been coming to see mother. Last night he took her out to dinner. She came home--late--she was not quite herself. This morning she was frightened and hysterical. She said--that she had been talking." "To Sir Leslie Borrowdean?" "Yes." Mannering showed no signs of dismay. He took the girl's thin white hand in his, and held it almost affectionately. "I am very glad to know this at once, dear," he said, "and you did what was right and kind when you came to see me. But Sir Leslie Borrowdean has no reason to make himself my enemy. On the contrary, just now he seems particularly anxious to cultivate my friendship." "Then why," the girl asked, "has he gone out of his way to--to--" Mannering stopped her. "He had a motive, of course. Borrowdean is one of those men who do nothing without a motive. I believe that I can even guess what it is. Don't let this thing distress you too much, Hester. I do not think that we have anything to worry about." "But he knows!" "I could not imagine a man," Mannering answered, "better able to keep a secret." The girl sat silent for a moment. "I suppose I have been an idiot," she remarked. "You have been nothing of the sort," Mannering asserted, firmly. "You have done just what is kind, and what will help me to save the situation. I must confess that I should not like to have been taken by surprise. You have saved me from that. Now let us put the whole subject away for a time. How I wish that you could stay here for a few days." The girl smiled a little piteously. "I ought not to have left her even for so long as this," she said. "I must go back to-morrow morning by the first train." He nodded. He felt that it was useless to combat her resolution. "You and I," he said, gravely, "have both our burdens to carry. Only it seems a little unfair that Providence should have made my back so much the broader. Listen, Hester!" The full murmur of the sea growing louder and louder as the salt water flowed up into the creeks betokened the change of tide. Faint wreaths of mist were rising up from over the shadowy marshland. Above them were the stars. He laid his hand upon her shoulder. "Dear child!" he said, "I think that you understand how it is that the burden, after all, is easier for me. A man may forget his troubles here, for all the while there is this eternal background of peaceful things." Her hand stole into his. "Yes," she murmured, "I understand. Don't let them ever bring you away." CHAPTER XI MANNERING'S ALTERNATIVE