“But I had no hand in the treatment! She has no right to visit Christian’s follies and vices upon me! _Me!_ And yet, when I came out of the house at Holme Park, and I came upon her on her way up to it, she turned out of her way to go shrieking after me! There’s no reason in such behavior, even if she is off her head!” “Well, there’s just this, Mr. Biron, that she knows you used to encourage Christian to come to your house, and to urge Claire to go and meet him,” said Bram sturdily, disgusted with the airs of martyrdom which the worst of fathers was assuming. “And there’s enough of a thread of reason in that, especially for one whose mind is not at its best.” To Bram’s great surprise, these words had such an effect upon Theodore that he said nothing in reply, but with an unintelligible murmur shuffled upstairs at once. Bram felt rather remorseful when he saw how the little man took his words to heart, and wondered whether he was less easy in his mind than he affected to be. He returned to the kitchen, where Claire was sitting up on the sofa listening intently. “Who’s that?” she said in a husky voice of alarm. Bram, who had heard nothing, listened too. And then he found that her ears were keener than his own, for in another moment there came Joan’s heavy rap-tap-tap on the door. He let her in, and saw at once that she had heard something of the occurrences of the evening. Her good-natured face was pale and alarmed; she looked at Claire with eloquent eyes. “Oh, sir, do you think it’s true?” she asked in an agitated whisper. “That she did it, that our poor, little Miss Claire killed him, killed Mr. Chris?” “Don’t let us think about it,” said he quickly. “It was nothing but a shocking accident, if she did; of that you may be sure.” “But will they be able to prove that?” asked the good woman anxiously. “We’ll hope they may,” said he gravely. “In the meantime she’s so ill that she can tell us nothing; she’s forgotten all about it. You must get her upstairs.” Joan set about this task with only the delay caused by the necessity of lighting a fire in the invalid’s bedroom. Claire meanwhile remained silent, keeping her eyes fixed upon Bram with an intent gaze which touched him by its pathetic lack of meaning. Not until Joan came back and put strong arms round the little creature to carry her upstairs did some ray of intelligence flash out from the black eyes. “No, don’t take me away,” she said. “I want to stay here to talk to Bram.” And she stretched out feebly over Joan’s shoulder two little hands towards him. He took them in his, and pressed upon each of them a long, passionate kiss. “No, dear. It will be better for you,” he said simply. And then, with a sudden return to the extreme docility she had shown to him all the evening, she smiled, and let her hands and her head fall as Joan started with her burden on the way upstairs. CHAPTER XXIV. MR. BIRON’S REPENTANCE. Then Bram went upstairs also, and knocked at Mr. Biron’s door.