With that Mrs. Austin had to be content. But she distrusted the stranger’s influence over the young lady, and never willingly admitted him into her little house when he called--as he did call--time after time to see Miss Anderson. "I would rather see the other gentleman, Mr. Cameron," said the landlady to herself many a time. But Bernard was not well, he had taken a severe cold, and the mists rising continually in the Thames Valley caused him to have chest troubles. He could therefore only write to Doris, now and then, expressing hope that he would soon be better in health and able to call upon her again, and regretting deeply the delay. Left alone, Doris quite looked forward to the artist’s visits. He never stayed long, and the short time he was with her was such a pleasant break in the monotony of the girl’s daily life. She was too unsophisticated to scruple to receive him in her little sitting-room, and he was altogether too great a Bohemian to hesitate to go there alone. To his mind Doris stood on an entirely different plane from other girls. The concern with which he had seen her making her poor pictures had become merged in admiration for her bravery in attempting to earn a few hundreds of pounds with which to pay part of a debt of honour. How could it have been contracted, he wondered, by one so guileless? _She_ could not have lost the money by gambling. It was impossible that such an innocent girl could know anything about gambling. And yet in what other way could she have become indebted to such an extent? He was soon to know, for as his influence over her increased, she became possessed with a restless longing to stand well in his opinion, and it seemed to her untruthful to conceal from him the cloud of disgrace which hung over her family, although she had thought it right to keep the matter from Alice. She therefore told him, one day when he lingered with her a little longer than usual, and the early twilight favoured confidences, softening as it did the austere lines in the artist’s face and revealing only the good expression of his countenance. He listened in amazement and distress, having had no idea of the tragedy in her young life. Simply and as briefly as possible she related the story of her father’s appropriation of his young ward’s money, and his subsequent flight, with her mother, in the dead of night. She was a little tired and dispirited that day, and her voice broke now and again as she recounted the wretched happenings of that woeful time, and then not allowing herself to break down, or shed a tear, went on bravely to relate about the letter her mother left for her, with its scanty information and command to her to proceed to London, there to live with their good friend Miss Earnshaw. But when Doris proceeded to relate how Mrs. Cameron came into her room in order to upbraid her in her misfortunes, being overcome by the recollection, she completely broke down and wept.