‘O, Mr. Hossack, why do you mention that unfortunate girl’s name? I have been so miserable about her—have even felt myself to blame for her flight, and all the trouble it brought on that good old man her father. He never would confess that she had run away from home; he spoke of her always in the same words: “She is staying with friends in London;” but every one knew there was some sad mystery connected with her disappearance, and I was only too well able to guess the nature of that mystery. But you speak of her as if you knew her—as if you could enlighten me as to her present position. If it is in your power to do that, I shall be beyond measure grateful to you; you will take a load from my mind.’ ‘I may be able to do that by and by,’ answered Geoffrey; ‘at present I can say very little, except that the lady lives, and that her brother is my friend. From you, Lady Baker, I venture to ask all the information you can give me as to those circumstances which led to Miss Davoren’s disappearance from Wykhamston.’ Lady Baker sighed and paused before she responded to this inquiry. ‘All I can tell you amounts to but little,’ she said; ‘and even that little is, for the greater part, conjecture or mere guess-work. But what I can tell shall be freely told, and if I can be of any service to that poor girl, either now or in the future, she may rely on my friendship; and, whatever the circumstances of her flight, she shall have my compassion.’ ‘Those circumstances reflect no shame upon her, Lady Baker,’ answered Geoffrey with warmth. ‘She was a victim, but not a sinner.’ ‘I am most thankful to hear that. And now sit down, Mr. Hossack, and you shall hear my story. I think I can guess the nature of your interest in this lady, in spite of your reserve; and if I can help you towards any good result, I shall be delighted to do so. There are few girls I ever met more worthy of admiration, and, I believe, of esteem, than Janet Davoren.’ They sat down side by side in a recess at the end of the gallery; and here Lady Baker began her story. ‘I first met Miss Davoren,’ she said, ‘at the Castle. The Marchioness had taken her up on account of her fine voice; although Lady Guildford had no more soul for music than a potato; but, like the rest of the world, she likes to have attractive people about her; and so she had taken up Miss Davoren. The dear girl was as beautiful as she was gifted.’ ‘She is so still!’ cried Geoffrey with enthusiasm.