"I really beg your pardon," he said. "I am pouring out my troubles just like an old woman. How pleasant it is here," he added abruptly, "so quiet, and cosy, and home-like." He paused again, then he asked hurriedly. "How was she looking?" "Ill," Caroline answered, and added, "very ill!" Then her eyes flashed. "Why don't you assert yourself? Why don't you insist on getting married? She belongs to you. When once she is your wife, all this nonsense will end. I think you are as much to blame as she is. After all, she has promised you; you ought to exact the fulfilment of her promise." He turned and looked at her. "That is how you spoke the first night you came to my house," he said, and his tone had a faint touch of amusement in it. "You are a little bit of a mystery, Caroline. How any one so sharp and impatient as you are can handle children as you do is a marvel." Caroline was trembling with nervousness, and with a strange sick sensation of pain, but she laughed. "Oh! I don't believe in fussing," she said; "if I had only had a little bit more spirit when I was with your mother, it would have been a better thing for me." She moved away from him, and then she came back to him, and looked straight into his face. "Do you know what you ought to do? You ought to go over now to Lea Abbey, and bring her back here. You ought to keep her here, and marry her down here. If you want a witness, I'll be one." "I cannot do that to-night," said Haverford. "I have brought nothing with me, and I really must go back to town." She understood him. It was not the first time she had realized how supremely delicate was his attitude towards Camilla. To follow her now might be to suggest to Camilla a desire to know what she was doing; to demonstrate to others his right to do this. For all this thought and tact Caroline gave him keenest appreciation; at the same time she felt in her impatient way that it was the moment for action. "Suppose I take the children to town to-morrow? I know she will come if I let her suppose she is wanted," she suggested. "But they are so happy here, and so well." "Oh!" said Caroline, almost sharply, "we are not considering the children now; they don't count. And besides, they can always come back here." She sat down on the broad fender stool, and pondered a moment staring into the fire. "Really and truly I believe if you pull her up sharply, let her know you are tired of being played with, all will go well. Mrs. Lancing is a bundle of nerves--she has had so much to try her, that she is really not able at this moment of taking matters into her own hands. I think it is so natural that she should be doubtful and nervous," said Caroline; "but one thing is sure, that the longer she delays, the more difficult it will seem to her to take any definite step. She wants some one else to show her the way. That is your duty." She looked up at him; and Haverford smiled as he looked down at her.