"My chief friends are acquainted with it. I have no very close friends. The Rector of Netherleigh is the closest, and he has known of it for some time. That is, he knows I am suffering from a disorder that I shall probably never get the better of. Your mother knows it, for I told her this evening; and now you know it. My faithful maid Annis knows a little--Frost and Dr. Stair most of all. No one else knows of it in the wide world: and I do not wish that any one should know." "Is it right? Right to them?" "Why, what other friends have I? Lady Acorn, you may say. She has never been as a _friend_ to me. Your mother and I, had opportunity permitted, might have been the truest and dearest friends, but I and Betsy Acorn, never. She and I do not assimilate. Time enough to proclaim my condition to the world when I become so ill that it cannot be concealed." She fell into a reverie; and they scarcely exchanged another word for the rest of the way. "You will not speak of this to the Acorns," she said to him, as the carriage stopped at the hotel. "Certainly not, as you do not wish it. Or to any one else." "It would only give a fillip to Lord Acorn's extravagance. With the prospect of coming into Court Netherleigh close at hand, he would increase his debts thick and threefold." Francis Grubb nodded assent; he knew how true it was: he shook her hand with a lingering pressure, and watched her up the stairs. Then, dismissing his carriage, he walked through the lighted streets to Charing-Cross Station on his way back to Blackheath. It may be that he shunned his home lest his wife should still be in it. He need not have feared. Within an hour of his departure from it at midday, while she was still in the depth of the bewilderment which the blow had brought her, Lord Acorn arrived. His errand was to take her away with him; and to take her peremptorily. He did not say to her, "Will you put on your bonnet and come with me, Adela:" he said, curtly, "Come." "I cannot leave my home in this dreadful way, papa," she gasped, voice and hands alike trembling. "I cannot leave it for ever." "You will," he coldly answered. "You must. You have no alternative. I am come to remove you from it." "No, no," she pleaded. "Oh, papa, have mercy! Papa, papa!" "You should have made that prayer to your husband, Adela--while the time to do it yet remained to you." She clasped her hands in bitter repentance. "He will forgive me yet; I know he will. He may let me----" "Never," interrupted Lord Acorn. "You may put that notion out of your mind for good, Adela. Francis Grubb will never forgive you, or receive you back while life shall last." She moaned faintly. "And you have only yourself to thank for it. Put your things on, as I bid you," he sternly added. "This is waste of time. And send your maid to me for instructions." And thus Adela was removed from her husband's house overwhelmed with shame and remorse. CHAPTER XXIX. A DREARY LIFE.