“Walling, I cannot bear to expose that poor woman to the awful humiliation of hearing the whole of that fellow’s villainies exposed. I will go into the library and persuade her poor father to receive her in there and save her from this trial. And do you go to her and break the news of Mr. Legg’s presence in the house. You need tell her no more as yet. The worst need not be told until later.” “Very well, I will do as you say. There is her precious brother talking to Mr. Campbell. I wonder what he is saying,” said Will Walling as he went up and stood beside the chair of Lamia Leegh. She never moved or opened her eyes. She did not seem to have perceived his presence. He wished to address her, but hardly knew what name to call her. If he should call her by her real name, or even by the name she bore in New York before her marriage, it would startle and offend her. It would seem a deliberate insult. If he should call her by Ran’s name it would be by a false one. The last alternative, however, was the one on which he decided to act. It could do no harm, he thought, to humor her delusion by calling her by the name she honestly supposed to be hers by right of marriage. He laid his hand lightly on the back of her chair, stooped, and said softly: “Mrs. Hay!” She started, opened her eyes, sat up and gazed at him. “I have startled you. I am sorry,” he said. “Mr. Walling! You here! In England! At Haymore!” she exclaimed, gazing at him as if she could not turn away her eyes. “Yes, as you see!” he answered. “And we did not know you were coming. At least, I did not. And, oh! what brought you here? I don’t mean to be rude, though the question seems a rude one.” “It is a most natural one. I came—for a change,” replied Will Walling evasively. “And when did you arrive?” “In England? Tuesday.” “And when did you come to Haymore?” “Late last night.” “You came straight here, then, expecting to find us at home, and found no one to receive you—except the servants, of course. I hope they made you comfortable. And, of course they told you that we were to be home to-night.” “Yes, of course, thank you.” “I am so glad you are here. And, oh, Mr. Walling, since you are here, will you please to tell me who all these strangers are and why they are here, and what, oh! what has reduced my husband to that condition? He looks as if he were struck with idiocy,” said Lamia with ill-concealed scorn and hatred. Will Walling thought within himself that she would have little to suffer from wounded affections, whatever she might have to endure from humbled pride. Still, he pitied her, and answered gently: “That group on the sofa, to whom your brother is speaking, consists of the Rev. Mr. Campbell, his wife and daughter, who are quite old friends of Mr. Leegh.” Lamia had never heard the name of Jennie Montgomery’s parents. She scrutinized the group, and then remarked: