"Jim," she said, "you see that house, where the wide windows are, all one pane, and the bright balconies there, the house with the wide door, and the heavy carved railings?" "Yes, mum, I see," said Jim. "Go to that house, and ask if anything has been heard from Mr. Felton. Ask when he is expected--he has taken lodgings there--whether any other gentleman is expected to come with him--and, Jim, be sure to ask in particular whether any letters have been received for Mr. Felton, and sent on to him." Jim Swain looked at Harriet. There was something strange as well as intelligent in the look, but she saw only the intelligence. It harmonized with the thought in her own mind, and she replied to it: "You think, perhaps, they may not like to tell you," she said. "Perhaps they may not. But you may tell whoever answers you that Mr. Felton's sister wishes to know--" Jim still looked at her, and Harriet felt that he did so, but this time she did not catch his eye. "Be quick," she said, "and bring me the answer yonder." She pointed to the bench on which she had been sitting, and which was beyond the reach of observation from the house she had indicated, and walked away towards it as she ceased speaking. "It cannot be helped," she said. "The risk is a trifling one at worst, and must be run. I could not put Harris in communication with any one on a false pretext, and I can trust this boy so far not to say he has asked this question for me. I cannot bear it any longer. I must know how much time there is before me. I _must_ have so much certainty; if not, I shall go mad." She had reached the bench now, and sat down in the former attitude. "Once before I asked myself," she muttered, "if I was going mad. I did not feel more like it then than now--not so like it, indeed. I knew what he was doing then, I had found him out. But I don't know now--I don't know now. I am in the dark, and the tide is rising." Jim came back from his errand. He had been civilly answered by a woman-servant. Mr. Felton was expected in a few days; the exact day was not yet named. No letters had been received for him. He had sent no orders relative to the forwarding of any. Having delivered his message so far, Jim Swain hesitated. Harriet understood the reticence, and spared a momentary thought for passing wonderment at this little touch of delicacy in so unpromising a subject for the exhibition of the finer emotions. "Did the person who answered you ask you any question?" she said.