Percival looked up a little astonished, but he only thanked her in his quiet voice and closed his desk. He turned the key, and waited a moment till Emma should have gone before he obeyed the summons. When, answering Judith's "Come in," he entered the Lisles' room, he found her standing by the window. She turned and looked at him, as if she were not quite certain whom to expect. "It is I," he said. "Thank you for sending for me." "Sending for you? I didn't send. But I am glad you came," she added. She had not sent for him, and Percival remembered that he had passed Lydia Bryant on his way. The message--which, after all, was a mere statement of a fact--was hers. He colored angrily and stood confused: "You did not send? No--I see. I beg your pardon--I misunderstood--" "It makes no difference," said Judith quickly. "Don't go: I wanted to tell you--" She paused: "I have not been unjust, Mr. Thorne. Mr. Nash has been at Standon Square this afternoon. After he had my telegram he received a letter from Emmeline, and it was as I thought. She is with Bertie." "With Bertie? And he came here?" "Yes--to see if it was as Emmeline said, that they were married at St. Andrew's last Tuesday." Percival looked blankly at her: "Married! It isn't possible, is it?" [Illustration: "IT IS I," HE SAID. "THANK YOU FOR SENDING FOR ME."--Page 542.] "Quite possible," said Judith bitterly. "Standon Square is in St. Andrew's parish, as well as Bellevue street. It seems that Bertie had only to have the banns mumbled over for three Sundays by an old clergyman whom nobody hears in a church where nobody goes. It sounds very easy, doesn't it?" Percival stood for a moment speechless while the cool audacity of Bertie's proceeding filtered slowly into his mind. "But if any one had gone to St. Andrew's?" he said at last. "That would have ended it, of course. I suppose he would have run away without Emmeline. If I had gone that Sunday when I had arranged to go, for instance. Yes, that would have been very awkward, wouldn't it, Mr. Thorne? Only, you see, Bertie happened to be ill that morning, and I couldn't leave him. You remember you were good enough to go to church with us." "I remember," said Percival with a scornful smile as he recalled the devoted attention with which he had escorted the young organist to St. Sylvester's. "He must have enjoyed that walk, I should think," said Judith, still very quietly. Her unopened note was on the table, where she had placed it that morning. She took it up and tore it into a hundred pieces. "You have heard people talk of broken hearts, haven't you?" she said. "Often," he answered. "Well, then, Bertie has broken Miss Crawford's. She said this morning that she should never hold up her head again if this were true; and I believe she never will." "Do you mean she will die of it?" said Thorne, aghast.