“Miss Inglett,” said the young man, after she had been given time to recover herself, “I have only ventured to call on you for one reason, that I might impress on you the necessity of leaving this house. My mother is in town, and she must not be allowed to know or even suspect that you are alive and here.” Arminell did not speak for some time. Presently she said, “Do not let us talk about anything at present but Orleigh. I am parched for news. I daresay there is nothing of tremendous importance to relate, but I care for little details. How was the house looking? Were the trees turning to their autumn tints? The Virginian creeper, was that touched with crimson? How are Mr. and Mrs. Macduff? I could not abide them when I was at Orleigh; I could be thankful now for a sound of their delightful Scotch brogue. What is Giles going to do? dear little boy! I would give a week’s sunlight for a kiss from his moist lips—which formerly I objected to. And mamma—has she been to the Sunday School since—since—?” Then Arminell’s tears flowed again. After another pause, during which the young man looked through the photographic album on the table, Arminell recovered herself, and said, “Do not suppose for a moment that I regret my decision. My conscience is relieved. I am beginning to acquire fresh interests. I am now making a frock for baby. I am godmother to Mrs. Welsh’s child, and have come to be very fond of him. But there—tell me something about Orleigh, and Giles, and my mother—about any person or animal, or shrub or tree there. And, oh! can you obtain for me some photographs of the place? I should cherish them above everything I have. I dream of Orleigh. I think of Orleigh, and—I shall never see dear Orleigh again.” “I will come another day, Miss Inglett, and tell you all that I can, but to-day I must urge on you the vital necessity of at once leaving this house.” “Your aunt can hardly get on without me.” “She managed formerly without you, she must do the same again.” “But there was no baby in the house then. And, besides, the new cook who was to have come has failed. The last went up a ladder sixty feet high, and it took several constables and a sergeant to get her down.” Arminell laughed through her tears. “Miss Inglett, consider what the difficulty would be in which her ladyship would be placed should it become known—” “Mrs. Saltren and her lady’s-maid!” The door was thrown open by the maid of-all-work, and she ushered into the drawing-room the person of all others—except perhaps Mrs. Cribbage—whom it was desired to keep from the house, and she was followed by Thomasine Kite. Verily, the flower-pot was not smothered. It was about to fizz and puff again. CHAPTER XLVII. EQUILIBRIUM.