"Well, if you won't, you won't," said the good woman. "I have come back, though, and I hope to see a good deal of you; I have got lots to tell you. I have been collecting early reminiscences." "Of what?" I could not help asking. "Of Albert's babyhood and childhood, they are that touching. I found a little diary he used to keep. I declare I laughed and I cried over it. We'll read it together this evening. Now then, off you go, and do get some colour back into your pale cheeks; you are quite the prettiest, most graceful, most h'aristocratic young lady I ever saw; but you are too pale now, you really are." I did not say any more; I grasped Mrs. Fanning's hand. "How is your dear mother?" she said. "Mother is not at all well." "Ah, poor dear, poor dear," said Mrs. Fanning; "then no wonder your cheeks are pale. I said to Albert the very last night I left, 'Albert, if you win her, she's worth her weight in gold, it is a gold heart she has; you watch her with her mother, Albert, and think what she'll be to you.'" "Mrs. Fanning, you really must not talk in that way," I said. "Please let me go." She did let me go. My contact with her had slightly braced me. I felt angry once more with the terrible Albert; but Mrs. Fanning was kindness itself. Oh, if only Albert had been a different man, and I had really cared for him, and I--but why think of the impossible. I got into an omnibus, and gave the man directions to put me down at the nearest point to the Duchess's house. I found myself echoing Jane Mullins's words, "Why had Jim Randolph gone away?" I arrived at the Duchess's in good time. I had made up my mind to tell her all. She must lend us a thousand pounds. Mother must be saved; mother must be kept in the dark as to the utter ruin of my mad plan. I whispered the story as I would tell it to my old friend over and over to myself, and when I mounted the steps of the house and rang the bell I was trembling, and felt very faint and tired. The footman opened the door, and I inquired for her Grace. "Can I see her?" I said. "I am Miss Wickham; I want to see her on very special business." "I will mention that you have called, madam," replied the man; "but her Grace is not visible, she is very ill. She has been in bed for several days, and the doctor is with her. It is influenza." Then, indeed, I felt my last hopes tottering. "I am sorry her Grace is ill," I said. I paused for a moment to consider. "Can I see Miss Mitford?" I inquired then. Miss Mitford was a lady who did some correspondence for the Duchess, and who was generally to be found in the house. Miss Mitford came downstairs immediately, and I saw her in a small room to the left of the great hall. "It is the shock about Mr. Randolph," she said at once. "Then is it really supposed that he was drowned in the _Star of Hope_?" I cried.