In the flash of a second, Cicely, with her wonted kindly impulsiveness, made up her mind to do what in the bottom of her soul, she knew she loathed doing, and what she knew would rob her own Christmas of all its joyousness. She looked from one to the other of the two Congreves--Sir Arthur still upright on the hearth-rug; his wife a small, dejected heap in an armchair--and said in her most gracious manner-- "I do wonder if you will do what I am going to ask you to do? I know you are here on business, but just at Christmas time itself, just for Christmas Day and Boxing Day, you can't do any business at all, so will you come and spend at least those days with us at Bramwell? We go to-morrow; could you come three days hence--on Christmas Eve, or earlier, if you will. I quite see that your own home is too far away, but our home is so near, only an hour by train, and we mean to try and have a home-like Christmas. Do come." Lady Congreve's pathetic little face brightened, a gleam of pleasure shot into her wistful eyes. Somewhere in that small, crushed soul of hers--the soul that for nearly forty years her husband had manipulated with ruthless hands--she had a profound longing for all the colour and glory of life, and in some nebulous and inexplicable way, Cicely had always seemed to her the embodiment of both. "Oh, Arthur!" she faltered. "Could we? It would be delightful; such a relief after this great wilderness of an hotel. Could we go, dear?" Sir Arthur drew his brows together in a judicial way peculiar to him, and bearing no relation to the importance of the matter in hand. "Very kind of you to think of such an arrangement, my dear Cicely," he began; "very kind, indeed. And it is true, as you say, that ordinary business cannot be transacted at Christmas-time. But--we are not here on quite ordinary business. I think I told you when I last saw you, that my unfortunate brother-in-law is giving us great uneasiness." "Yes, you did mention it," Cicely answered, again racking her brain in vain to remember what constituted the misfortunes of the brother-in-law, "but I did not know----" "Quite so, quite so," Sir Arthur interrupted, waving her words aside; "we do not discuss the subject frequently, because, as you are aware, it is one which is most repugnant to us. But, for my poor sister's sake, I feel bound to come forward now, greatly as I dislike being mixed up with such an affair. I belong to those who believe that the touch of pitch defiles." Cicely wondered more and more who and what the recalcitrant brother-in-law could be, that the mention of him drew such strong expressions from Sir Arthur's lips, brought so stern a look to his face; but he did not allow her time to ask any questions, or make any comment on his speech, resuming with scarcely a pause--