"I’m sorry, sir. Where was I? Oh, there came a day when she couldn’t go out. I made her lie on the sofa in my back parlour, and it just happened that Mr. Sinclair called: he had been many times when she was out, but that day he called when she was in. He had a very long talk with Miss Anderson. And she was very much excited after he had gone. She cried a good bit, and then, next day, his sister came to see her, and afterwards he called again, and then Miss Anderson sat down and wrote a letter to you, sir, and another one to an old servant in Yorkshire, and she cried while she was writing them. I think those were very important letters, sir, for she was very anxious that they should be safely posted. I had to put on my bonnet and take them to the post myself, for she would trust no one else. And then she waited so anxiously for the answers, but only the old servant wrote. Oh, sir, why didn’t you write?" "I received no letter from her. I have had none from her since the first week after my return to Yorkshire." "And I’m sure she wrote to you, sir, several times." Bernard uttered an exclamation. It was clear to him that his mother must have seized his letters and kept them from him. "There was something in the old servant’s letter," continued Mrs. Austin, "which struck my dear young lady all of a heap and made her go about like a stricken lamb, with her poor young face so white and drawn. She did not cry then, sir. I only wished she would, for there was a heart-broken look in her poor face. Then Miss Sinclair came, full of affectionate concern, and she did her best to comfort Miss Anderson; but in vain. "’It’s no use,’ she said to me, ’I cannot make Doris cheer up. I shall send my brother.’ "And then, the next thing was Mr. Sinclair came, and after he had gone, Miss Anderson said to me, quiet-like, ’I’m not going to be poor any longer, Mrs. Austin!’ And then she went on to say, ’It will be better for you, dear Mrs. Austin; I’ve only been a burden on you lately, and now you will be well paid for all you have done for me---not that money will ever repay you, my good, kind friend!’ and, throwing her arms round my neck, she kissed me more than once. ’I should have died if it hadn’t been for you,’ she said. ’And now I am going to live and be Mr. Sinclair’s wife. He is rich now, and I have promised to marry him.’" "To marry him!" Bernard exclaimed, starting up so violently that he overturned a small table. "Did she say to marry him?" "Yes, sir," Mrs. Austin answered, with great sympathy; "I’m sorry to say she did." "But she is _my_ promised wife!" cried Bernard, picking up the table and beginning to pace up and down the room, in his agitation. "Indeed, sir!" Mrs. Austin’s round eyes opened widely in astonishment. She had always understood that Mr. Cameron loved Doris, and indeed she wondered who could help loving her! But it was altogether another thing to hear that Doris had promised to marry Mr. Cameron.