In the presence of this scourge, Mrs. Atheling found it impossible to persuade the Squire to let his family go up with him and Edgar to London. About the cholera, the Squire had the common fatalistic ideas. "You may escape through God's mercy," he said; "but if you are to die of this fearsome, outlandish sickness, then it is best to face death in your own home." "But if you should take it in London, and me not near even to bid you 'good-bye,' John! I should die of grief." "I do hope thou wouldst have more sense, Maude." "I would follow thee beyond the grave, very quickly, John." "No, no! Stay where thou art. Thou knowest what Yorkshire is," and though he spoke gruffly, his eyes were dim with unshed tears for the dreadful possibility he thought it right to face. Kate was specially averse to return to London. It was full of memories she did not wish to revive. Piers was there; and how could she bear to meet him, and neither speak to nor even look at her lover? There was Annabel's marriage also to consider. If she did not attend it, how many unpleasant inquiries and suppositions there would be? If she did accept the formal invitation sent her, how was she to conduct herself towards Piers in the presence of those who knew them both intimately? The marriage was to take place shortly before the opening of Parliament; and, owing to the wretched condition of the country, it was thought best to give it only a private character. The management of the social arrangements were in Piers's hands, and during these last days a very brotherly and confidential affection sprang up in his heart for the brilliant girl who was so soon to leave them forever. One morning he returned to Richmoor House with some valuable jewels for Annabel. He sent a servant to tell her that he was in the small east parlour and desired her company. Then, knowing her usual indifference to time, he sat down and patiently awaited her coming. She responded almost immediately. But her entrance startled and troubled him. She came in hastily, and shut the door with a perceptible nervous tremour. Her face was flushed with anger; she looked desperate and defiant, and met his curious glance with one of mingled fear and entreaty and reckless passion. He led her to a seat, and taking her hands said,-- "My dear Bella, what has grieved you?" "Oh, Piers! Piers!" she sobbed. "If you have one bit of pity in your heart, give it to me. I am the most miserable woman in the world." "Bella, if you do not love Cecil--if you want to break off this marriage--" "Love Cecil? I love him better than my life! My love for Cecil is the best thing about me. It is not Cecil." "Who is it then?"