“I hope so, too. She is not delicate, naturally, neither is she very strong, and we have been walking more than she is accustomed to do since we came to Paris.” “How long have you been here?” “Rather more than a week?” “You are on your way to England, I suppose?” “I believe so; but we have scarcely decided yet.” “I presume you would hurry home if anything happened to your uncle, Sir Lawrence?” “Naturally. But we heard from him just before we left Biarritz, and he then said that he was remarkably well, so that I do not anticipate a sudden recall.” Mrs. O’Hara had a letter in her hand; but she put it down on the table, and lifted those wonderful Irish eyes of hers to his face. “Lawrence,” she said quietly, “will you answer me one question?” “Nay, a dozen, if I can, Norah.” “One will be enough. Has the accusation I made against Lady Gwendolyn that day at the ‘Langham’ ever troubled you in the slightest degree?” He reflected before he answered: “I don’t think it has. I have such full faith in my wife, you see.” “Still, you know me well enough to understand that I should not make a statement of this sort unless I believed it to be true.” “No; but we are all liable to error, Norah.” “And you may as well add that a person of my impulsive temper is doubly liable. I certainly did think that Lady Gwendolyn had been the cause of my poor brother’s death, and had destroyed him by her cruel coquetries; and, as I am not in the habit of bridling my tongue, or disguising my feelings, I told her plainly what I thought. But since then I have discovered my mistake.” “Go on,” he said eagerly. She pointed to the letter on the table. “Read that,” she said, “and it will save my breath. You will see by the signature that it was written by my poor brother himself, and is dated the second of August.” “The day before his death?” “Exactly. It is in pencil, as you will perceive, but is quite legible, and has the ‘Dragon, Turoy, Westmoreland,’ printed in colors on the paper.” “Yes, I see. The landlord of the ‘Dragon,’ who is quite the gentleman in his way, must have lent it to him. I remember that he affected all those little refinements.” “Very well, now read it through, and tell me what you make of it.” “Would you mind telling me, first of all, to whom this letter was written?” “To a Miss Pindar--a relation of my mother’s, who brought us up when our parents died. Poor George, with all his faults, was very much attached to her, and always kept her _au courant_ as to his movements. She was his favorite of us two, and I know she scraped and saved in order to send him money for his pleasures. But he did mean to make it all up to her,” added Mrs. O’Hara. “I saw the letter he wrote to Miss Pindar directly he came into his property.” It occurred to Colonel Dacre that promises did not cost much, but he refrained from any hint to this effect, seeing how much it comforted Norah to accredit her brother with good intentions. CHAPTER XX. LOVED AND LOST.