'I wish you would give this to your mother,' she said, addressing him suddenly as he sat beside her. 'She wants me to have tea with her to-morrow; but it is impossible, I have so much to do just now.' 'I could have told her; there was no need for you to write or to trouble yourself in any way. I am afraid my mother is rather exacting; it is a Blake foible.' He smiled as he spoke, and there was no special meaning in his tone; he seemed to take it as a matter of course that Audrey's visits to the Cottage had ceased. 'It will be all right,' he said, as he put the letter in his breast-pocket; and then he stopped and called some boy to order. 'You will stay in after luncheon, Roberts,' he said severely, and after that he did not speak again to Audrey. But that letter, strange to say, brought things to a climax. The very next morning Mollie gave Audrey a note. 'It is from mamma,' she said, rather timidly. 'Would you like me to begin my piece, Miss Ross, while you read it?' 'Yes, certainly; but it does not seem a long letter.' And, indeed, it only contained a few words: 'DEAR MISS ROSS, 'I must see you. If you will not come to me, will you tell Mollie when I may call? But I must and will speak to you alone.' Audrey twisted up the paper in her hand; then she stood behind Mollie and beat time for a moment. 'Mollie,' she said hurriedly, as she turned over the page, 'will you tell your mother that I will come to her this afternoon a little before three? I shall not be able to stay, but just for half an hour;' and then she sat down and quietly and patiently pointed out how an erring passage ought to be played. But there was a tired look on her face long before the lesson ended. All her life long Audrey never forgot the strange chill sensation that came over her as she read that note; it was as though some dim, overmastering force were impelling her against her own will. As she crushed the letter in her hand, she told herself that circumstances were becoming too strong for her. Her face was very grave that afternoon as she pushed open the green gate and walked up to the open door. It seemed to her as though she were someone else, as she crossed the threshold and stood for a moment in the little hall. Biddy came out of the kitchen. The mistress was in the drawing-room, she said, and Miss Mollie was out; and Audrey, still with that strange weight at her heart, went upstairs slowly. Mrs. Blake was sitting in her usual seat by the window. She rose without speaking and took Audrey's hands, but there was no smile upon her face. She looked very pale, and Audrey could see at once that she had been weeping. 'You have come,' she said quietly; 'I thought my letter would bring you. Perhaps it was wrong of me to write; I ought to have come to you instead. But how was I to speak to you alone? Last night I was almost desperate, and then I was obliged to send for you.' 'If you wanted me so much, of course you were right to send for me.'