‘The appearance of the cousin? What is the signification of that, I wonder? But let us take the other, which is more important, first. Did you know my father kept a diary, Emily?’ ‘I have seen him making little notes in various little books: but it is so long ago.’ ‘And you were not here, of course, when we came into the Rectory. I found a quantity of these little books in the study, little calendars and almanacs, and so forth. I didn’t pay much attention to them--that is, I looked into one or two and they didn’t seem interesting. Queer, when people might really make such a record important, and they put in the merest trifles instead.’ ‘“Chronicle small beer,”’ she said, with a faint smile; but she was pale with an interest much deeper than any record of public events could have commanded. ‘Eh?’ said the Rector, who was not literary; ‘but I thought it might be just possible--so I have been making a hunt through them, and I came upon something that might--that must help us.’ ‘Thank God!’ she said, clasping her hands instinctively together. ‘We must not be too sanguine: and yet, of course, a dead man’s diary is evidence itself in a way.’ ‘Tell me,’ she cried, with excitement, ‘tell me what papa said.’ ‘Nearly twenty years ago,’ said the Rector, with a little emotion. ‘It’s like hearing the old man talk--with abrupt sentences, don’t you know--just as he spoke.’ ‘What does he say? What does he say, James?’ ‘This is the one, I think; no, it’s the next--no. I hope I haven’t brought the wrong ones after all.’ Lady William sat very quietly with her hands on her knee, only her fingers, which clasped and unclasped each other, showing a little the excitement of the suspense in which she was, as he drew forth one little book after another from the ample pockets of his coat. At last the right one was found, and then a minute or two elapsed before the Rector with his spectacles could find the entry of which he was in search. Lady William made no attempt to snatch it from his hand. She sat quite still with a self-enforced patience which was belied by the glitter in her eyes. ‘Here it is at last--October 23rd. Would that be the date?’ She bowed her head quickly, and her brother began to divine that she could not speak. He gave her a keen look, and then returned to the book. ‘“October 23rd.--Very agitating and extraordinary night. Em. came home after midnight accompanied by woman M., and Lord W. Extraordinary explanations. Marriage immediately or not at all. Leaving England. Gave consent.” Is that right?’ Lady William moved impatiently in her chair. ‘If you find it in the book, it must be right.’ ‘Ah, well, that is true, no doubt. Then comes another--“25th.--Emily married. Old Gepps. Gave her away. They left train, Paris.”’ ‘Is that all?’ ‘It is all. I suppose old Gepps is the man who performed the ceremony. Did you ever hear my father speak of any one of that name? Do you remember the man?’