‘Yes, papa, I am keeping it up.’ She put out her hand and took the letter. She made no explanation or excuse; but went away with it, slowly, with a sort of formal dignity. It was a strange little scene. The observer seemed to see the story rising like a picture before him--as Anne had thought she saw his story--but more distinctly as being more near. He was more interested than he could say. He had no right to inquire into what was so distinctly a family secret. If she only would have confided in him, told him how it was!--but that he had no right to expect. It made a visible commotion in the house for the rest of the day. Little signs of agitation were visible, signs which without this elucidation would only have puzzled, would have conveyed no enlightenment to his mind. Anne did not appear at lunch. She had gone, it was said, to the village, and no doubt had stopped to luncheon with the Woodheads. And Mr. Mountford was gloomy and absent, yet at the same time more alert than usual. ‘I am going to ride over to Hunston this afternoon,’ he announced. ‘Perhaps you would like to go with me, Heathcote, and see the place?’ ‘What are you going to do at Hunston, papa? Let me come with you too: let us all go together,’ said Rose. ‘I am going to see Mr. Loseby,’ her father said; and this, though it had no effect upon Rose, made her mother start slightly, and cast an anxious look towards the head of the table. ‘Do you think, St. John, it is a good day to go to Hunston? It is very damp, and I am sure you will make your cold worse.’ Mrs. Mountford was not the soul of generosity: but she was far from being unjust or cruel. She was afraid of what her husband might be going to do, even should it be for the advantage of Rose. ‘I think I can manage to take care of my cold,’ he said. ‘But that is just what gentlemen never do. Don’t go to-day, St. John. Wait till it is drier and brighter;’ she even got up from her chair and went round to him and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait till you have had time to think.’ ‘I have taken too much time to think,’ he said crossly, turning away his head and rising from the table. ‘Heathcote, if you would like to come with me, I shall be ready in half-an-hour.’ ‘What is it, mamma?’ said Rose, half frightened too, as her father went out of the room. Mrs. Mountford--the spectator always thought the better of her for it--fell a-crying, without being able to restrain herself, half in real distress, half in nervous excitement. ‘Oh, Mr. Heathcote, if you can do anything to smooth him down, do so; I am afraid he is going to--to tamper with his will!’ she cried. CHAPTER XV. TAMPERING WITH A LAWYER.