As soon as she had been able to brace herself up to it, about three weeks after Ada’s return, Eleanor had driven to Balder Hall to see Magdalen, who was, of course, acquainted with what had happened. While Miss Askam could not restrain her sobs and tears when she came to speak of these things, Miss Wynter maintained her usual impassive calm. What she felt about it, none could have told. She asked many questions which Eleanor, keenly feeling her right to be informed in the matter, answered freely; but she was very quiet and calm, and made scarce any comments upon it all, and let Eleanor go away, scarcely replying to the offers of friendship and sympathy on the part of the latter. Eleanor had mentioned Miss Strangforth, to which Magdalen replied very quietly— ‘Miss Strangforth is dying. I fear there is no doubt about that, though Michael would scarcely be likely to mention it to you in your other troubles. It is a question of time only, he tells me—and not a very long time.’ ‘And then—you?’ ‘I—oh, I shall get on somehow. I am not afraid.’ ‘But promise me that if you are not decided, you will come to me till you know something.’ ‘I will see. I appreciate your kindness, but I can promise nothing,’ said Magdalen; but to the great surprise of Eleanor, she stooped her proud head, and lightly kissed her visitor’s cheek. With this unaccustomed salute still tingling there—now hot, now cold—Eleanor drove home, with what cheer she might. A short time after this, just about Christmas, Miss Strangforth died. Her place was empty at last, and there was to be one made for the heir to step into. Eleanor wondered what would happen to Magdalen, and at last received news through Michael. She was going to remain at Balder Hall. Mr. Strangforth, the new owner, was a middle-aged man, with an invalid wife. He was, of course, distantly related to Magdalen herself. He had a family of boys and girls, who wanted much looking after, and he had asked Miss Wynter to remain, and manage the household as she had always done. It seemed a strange post for the haughty young woman, who had been almost too proud to set foot outside her aunt’s park. She had accepted Mr. Strangforth’s offer, and said she would call to see Eleanor as soon as she had time. At present she was so busy preparing for the new-comers that she could not leave the house. ‘Oh,’ exclaimed Eleanor, ‘is he a nice man, Michael? Will he be kind to her?’ ‘He is a very sedate, grave kind of man—almost austere. But he is a gentleman, and he will behave becomingly towards her, I am certain. He quite appreciates her devotion to his aunt, and told me he should always provide for her in a way suitable to her condition and his family, whatever that may mean.’