I quitted the room, and slowly made my way to the green chamber, where Lilian was waiting for me. 'Well, Mary!' she ejaculated, turning a smiling happy face towards me as I entered; 'have you come to set your prisoner free, madam?' 'Yes,' I replied, stupidly gazing at her. 'What makes you look at me like that, Mary?' 'How do I look?' I replied, with an attempt at a smile. But her fears were aroused. 'Is it anything about this?' she anxiously asked, looking down at the paper in her hand, and then into my face. 'I--I have been thinking the matter over, Lilian, and--I should like to ask some one's advice.' 'Some one's advice?--About this, dear?' turning it over in her hand, and then giving a wondering look at me. 'I mean as to its genuineness, Lilian.' 'I do not understand. These names are plain enough, and you thought just now'---- 'Oh, any one might have written these names without the document being a binding one,' I said, catching at any hope. 'To be legal, it must have been signed _in_ Scotland, you know; and there is no proof that it was.' 'But you hope--Mary, do not you _hope_ that it is genuine?' 'I do not quite know what to hope, dearie,' I replied, with a would-be careless air. In her utter unconsciousness of the cause of my uneasiness, she could not account for my want of sympathy, looking at me in some surprise. Then, after a few moments' silence, she said in a low grave voice: 'I know what to hope, Mary. I heartily hope that Marian's mother may have been righted.' Not once did it occur to her that it might be at the expense of her own mother. How she would act when the whole truth broke upon her, remained to be seen. I could not tell her whilst there seemed a thread of hope to cling to; and I tried to persuade myself that my fears as to the genuineness of that paper might yet prove to have been groundless. 'I think the best plan will be for me to write to Mr Wentworth, and ask him to advise and assist us, Lilian. He will be able to ascertain whether this is a _bonâ fide_ document, and represents a real marriage or not. And until that is done, I strongly advise you to say nothing about having found the paper.' 'Dear Mary, do you think there is so much necessity for secrecy about it?' 'I do indeed, Lilian.' Then, seeing that she still demurred (it seemed to her only natural and right at once to make known the discovery of the paper, be the consequences what they might), I added, diplomatically: 'I think it would be wiser not to raise Marian's hopes until you are quite sure they will not be disappointed. It is a case in which disappointment might be very terrible for her.' 'Yes; of course it would: I did not think of that. You are quite right, dear cautious old darling that you are; and I will obey you, though I do not myself fear disappointment.'