In the first place, the hope, weak as it was, which Lilith’s words had woke in her, was enough to live upon for a day or two at least; and in the second place, the fact she had learnt from Alfred Marrable had relieved her from the last trace of suspicion that she had given her love to a maniac. Now that she knew that Mr. Richard had been deaf and dumb, she understood much that had appeared strange in his conduct towards her. It was clear that when he had left her questions unanswered, it was because he could not hear them; and she now remembered that he had watched her lips as often as possible when she spoke, and had evidently understood her words by these means. This, then, was the infirmity to which he had alluded in his letter; and now the only thing which puzzled her was the fact that on the last two occasions when she had met him he had spoken to her. When and how had he recovered or obtained the power of speech? It is a curious fact that this interview with Mr. Marrable, and the information he had given her, increased, without her being able to account for it, her new belief that her lover might be still alive. She moved about with new cheerfulness, nourishing the hope that her mother would either take her, or send her to London, where, as she knew, all those people go who for any reason wish to remain for a time in concealment. On the other hand, what reason could Dick have for wishing to remain in hiding? Would he not rather, if he had escaped the dangers of the night of the fire, return either to see her, or to bring Mr. Bradfield to book for his long incarceration? And what had been the object of that incarceration? What, also, had been the meaning of the scene she witnessed on the night of the fire? With these and similar questions the young girl’s brain seemed to reel as she sat at her window looking out at the grey sea. Meanwhile Mr. Bradfield had returned from his morning’s ride, and had been greeted, on dismounting from his horse, with the information that Mr. Marrable was waiting to see him. John Bradfield entered the dining-room, into which the discriminating footman had shown the visitor as a person not quite smart enough for the drawing-room, with a frown on his face. “Oh, so you’re here again, are you?” was his abrupt greeting. Alfred, who felt better after the glass of beer and crust of bread and cheese which he had modestly chosen as his refreshment, came towards his old friend smiling, and trying to look cheerful. “Yes,” he answered mildly, “as you say, I’m here again.” His cheerfulness did not please Mr. Bradfield, who frowned still more as he asked shortly: “Well, and what do you want?” Now this Mr. Marrable did not quite like to confess. So he went on smiling, until he perceived by an ominous motion of his friend’s boot, that that gentleman’s endurance was about to give way.