‘And then, as now, you had no Archie to bear you company.’ ‘I did not know him then; and yet it seems now as if I must have known him all my life. I suppose that just about this time he will be engaged with Sir William and those dreadful lawyers. And he has to go through all this for the sake of me—of me, Mora!’ ‘He would go through a hundred times more than that for your sake, dear.’ ‘I often feel as if I don’t deserve to be loved so much. I hope there will be a telegram when we get back to the hotel. He promised to send one as soon as he had any news; but, suppose his news should be bad news!’ ‘At your age you ought always to look at the sunny side of your apple.’ ‘Thanks to you, dear, I have never had occasion to look at any other,’ answered the girl with a caress in her voice. ‘And to-day I _will_ try not to be down-hearted. I will try to hope for the best.’ They went forward a few paces in silence, and then Clarice suddenly said: ‘What a selfish girl I am! Tell me, dear, is your headache any better?’ ‘A little. I will sit awhile under the shade of this tree. This seems as pretty a spot as any. Perhaps by-and-by I may try to do a little sketching.’ She sat down on a rustic seat that had been placed on a jutting spur of rock nearly fronting the waterfall. The seat was partly hidden from chance passers-by by a screen of shrubs, ferns, and natural rockwork. ‘There! What a head I’ve got!’ exclaimed Clarice with something of dismay in her voice. ‘Mr Ridsdale thinks it a very pretty head. But what’s your trouble now?’ ‘I’ve left your sketch-book behind in the wagonette.’ ‘Is that all?’ ‘It will not take me more than ten minutes to fetch it.’ ‘It is of no consequence—not the slightest,’ answered Madame De Vigne a little wearily. ‘I prefer to fetch it. Some one will be prying into it who has no business to. Besides, I recollect something that I want to say to Miss Penelope.’ ‘As you please, dear.’ ‘You don’t mind my leaving you?’ ‘Not in the least.’ ‘I shall not be long away,’ cried Clarice as she turned and took the road that led down the valley. The shadow on Mora De Vigne’s face deepened the moment she was left alone. She was very pale this morning, and she had that look about the eyes which tells of a sleepless night. Beyond her sister and Nanette, no one knew of her fainting-fit of the previous night. Miss Gaisford had not failed to notice the change in her looks, but had asked no questions: she was assured that when the proper time should arrive she would be told all that it was intended she should know.