On the day before they left Cambridge Augustina received a parcel of books from her brother. For the most part they were kept hidden from Laura. But in the evening, when the girl was doing some packing in her stepmother's room, she came across a little volume lying open on its face. She lifted it, saw that it was called "Outlines of Catholic Belief," and that one page was still wet with tears. An angry curiosity made her look at what stood there: "A believer in one God who, without wilful fault on his part, knows nothing of the Divine Mystery of the Trinity, is held capable of salvation by many Catholic theologians. And there is the 'invincible ignorance' of the heathen. What else is possible to the Divine mercy let none of us presume to know. Our part in these matters is obedience, not speculation." In faint pencil on the margin was written: "My Stephen _could_ not believe. Mary--pray----" The book contained the Bannisdale book-plate, and the name "Alan Helbeck." Laura threw it down. But her face trembled through its scorn, and she finished what she was doing in a kind of blind passion. It was as though she held her father's dying form in her arms, protecting him against the same meddling and tyrannical force that had injured him while he lived, and was still making mouths at him now that he was dead. She and Augustina went to the sea--to Folkestone, for Augustina's health. Here Mrs. Fountain began to correspond regularly with her brother, and it was soon clear that her heart was hungering for him, and for her old home at Bannisdale. But she was still painfully dependent on Laura. Laura was her maid and nurse; Laura managed all her business. At last one day she made her prayer. Would Laura go with her--for a little while--to Bannisdale? Alan wished it--Alan had invited them both. "He would be so good to you, Laura--and I'm sure it would set me up." Laura gave a gulp. She dropped her little chin on her hands and thought. Well--why not? It would be all hateful to her--Mr. Helbeck and his house together. She knew very well, or guessed what his relation to her father had been. But what if it made Augustina strong, if in time she could be left with her brother altogether, to live with him?--In one or two of his letters he had proposed as much. Why, that would bring Laura's responsibility, her sole responsibility, at any rate, to an end. She thought of Molly Friedland--of their girlish plans--of travel, of music. "All right," she said, springing up. "We will go, Augustina. I suppose, for a little while, Mr. Helbeck and I can keep the peace. You must tell him to let me alone." She paused, then said with sudden vehemence, like one who takes her stand--"And tell him, please, Augustina--make it very plain--that I shall never come in to prayers." CHAPTER III The sun was shining into Laura's room when she awoke. She lay still for a little while, looking about her.