“Through whom?” asked the lady eagerly. “Through my nephew.” “I have come to break to you some sad news about your sister. Poor thing, she had a first seizure on the death of her first husband, and she had a second immediately after her return to Orleigh as a bride. It was kept quiet. I was not told of it, nor was my husband sent for. Now a third has ensued which has bereft her of speech, and it is feared will end fatally. I have come to town for some purchases and on a visit to friends, and I thought it would be kind and wise if I came to see you and tell you what I knew.” “Very kind indeed, ma’am.” “I promised Captain Tubb that I would do so; he is not a great hand at letter writing, and I said that I could explain the circumstances so much better by word of mouth than he could with the pen. The case, I fear, is serious. She cannot speak.” “It must indeed be serious, if Marianne can’t speak,” observed Welsh dryly; “I’ll run down to Orleigh to-morrow.” “How is your nephew? Mrs. Tubb hadn’t heard of him for three or four months. I dare say anxiety about him has brought on the seizure.” “My late nephew?” Welsh heaved a sigh. “Poor fellow, he is gone. He always was delicate.” “Gone!—” “Yes—to a warm place.” “It is not for us to judge,” said Mrs. Cribbage, sternly. “Well, perhaps not,” answered Welsh; “but between you and me, ma’am, for what else was he fit?” “I always considered that he gave himself airs, and I had an impression that he indulged in free-thinking. Still, he was not positively vicious. Nothing was proved against his morals.” “Others go to a warm place that shall be nameless, besides those who are positively vicious.” “Well,” said Mrs. Cribbage, “that is true, sadly true. And now to change the topic—how is Miss Inglett? Is she still with you?” “Miss Inglett?” Welsh’s eyes twinkled. He knew what the woman had come to his place for. It was not out of kindness to communicate to him his sister’s condition. He felt the dig of the skua’s beak in his chest. “Oh yes, we know all about it. Marianne Tubb talked before she had the stroke and lost the power of speech. You must not suppose, Mr. Welsh, that we are taken in and believe that the Honourable Arminell Inglett died as has been represented, through the shock caused by her father’s fatal fall.” “Ah! I remember seeing something about it in the papers. She died, did she?” “No, no, Mr. Welsh, that will not do. Your sister let the cat out of the bag. She said that Miss Inglett was lodging here with you; and very boastful Mr. Tubb was about it, and much talk did it occasion in Orleigh. Some people would not believe it, they said that Marianne Saltren had been a liar, and Marianne Tubb was no better. However, others say that there is something in it. So, as I am come to town, I thought I would just run here and inquire, and see Miss Inglett myself.” “We have had an Inglett here, certainly,” answered Welsh composedly, “and very decent pastry she made. She had a light hand.”