‘I thought your aunt would certainly have mentioned it to you; indeed, Mrs. Burchell was much surprised that she did not see her when she was in town. Agnes has been in--an educational establishment for some time. We are a little anxious about her,’ said the Rector, with a quaver in his voice. ‘Is she ill?’ Cara did not love the clergyman under whom she had sat for ten years, but her heart was touched by that unmistakable trembling in his commonplace voice. ‘I don’t suppose she is ill; we--don’t know. The fact is she left--the House last Saturday--and has never come back. We don’t know what has become of her,’ he said, with real trouble. ‘You won’t mention it to anyone. Oh, I suppose it is nothing, or something quite easily explainable; but her mother is anxious--and I thought you might have seen her. It is nothing, nothing of any real consequence,’ he added, trying to smile, but with a quiver in his lips. He was stout and commonplace and indeed disagreeable, but emotion had its effect upon him as well as another, and he was anxious about his child. He looked Cara wistfully in the face, as if trying to read in the lines of it something more than she would allow. ‘Agnes! the House--O Mr. Burchell!’ said Cara, waking up suddenly to a full sense of all that was in the communication. ‘Do you mean to say that it was Agnes--_Agnes!_ that was the Agnes in the House?’ Mr. Maxwell was more uncertain how to open the object of his visit. He sat for some time talking of _la pluie et le beau temps_. He did not know how to begin. Then he contrived little traps for Mrs. Meredith, hoping to bring her to betray herself, and open a way for him. He asked about Cara, then about Mr. Beresford, and how he heard he had given up all ideas of going away. But, with all this, he did not produce the desired result, and it was necessary at last, unless he meant to lose his time altogether, to introduce his subject broadly without preface. He did so with much clearing of his throat. ‘I have taken rather a bold thing upon me,’ he said. ‘I have thought it my duty--I hope you will forgive me, Mrs. Meredith. I have come to speak to you on this subject.’ ‘On what subject?’ she said simply, with a smile. This made it more difficult than ever. ‘About you and Mr. Beresford,’ he said, abruptly blurting it out. ‘Don’t be offended, for heaven’s sake! You ought to have known from the first; but I can’t let you walk blindly into--other relations--without letting you know.’ ‘Doctor, I hope you are not going to say anything that will make a breach between us,’ said Mrs. Meredith. ‘You have no right to suppose that I am about to form other relations--I only a few months a widow! I hope I have done nothing to forfeit my friends’ respect.’