"Very well, sir," said the sailor. As they were going out, it struck Brett that he perhaps owed something to Mr. Brown who, after all, had taken a great deal of trouble in the matter. "Mrs. Darche will be very much obliged to you, Brown," he said. "But I am not sure that the matter is ended. It would be awfully good of you to put the thing through, while I break the news to Mrs. Darche. Could you not go along with them and see that the man is really set at liberty?" Mr. Brown was a good-natured man, and was quite ready to do all that was asked of him. Brett thanked him once more, and he left the house with the rest. When they were all gone, Stubbs came back, evidently very much relieved at the turn matters had taken. "Please go into the drawing-room," said Brett, "and ask Mrs. Darche to come here one moment, if she can speak to me alone, and keep every one else out of the room. You understand, Stubbs." "Yes, sir," answered the butler. "But it is the Lord's own mercy, sir, especially the watch." He left the room in search of Mrs. Darche. Scarcely a moment elapsed before she entered the room. "Stubbs said you wanted to see me," she said in a voice that shook with anxiety. Brett came forward to meet her, and standing quite close to her, looked into her eyes. "Something very strange has happened," he said, with a little hesitation. "Something--something very, very good--can you bear the shock of a great happiness, dear?" "Happiness," she repeated. "What is it? Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "Oh! thank God, I see it in your eyes! It is not true? He is not here?--oh, Harry!" "Yes. That is it. The whole story was only a fabrication. He is not here. You see I cannot let you wait a moment for the good news. It is so good. So much better even than I have told you." "Better!" she cried as the colour rose to her pale cheeks. "What could be better? Oh, it is life, it is freedom--it is almost more than I can bear after this dreadful day!" "But you must bear more," said Brett, smiling. "More pain?" she asked with a little start. "Something else?" "No. More happiness." "Ah, no! There is no more!" "Yes there is. Listen. There is a reason why the story could not be true, why it is absolutely impossible that it should be true." "Impossible?" She looked up suddenly. "You cannot say that." "Yes I can," he answered. "We have seen the last of John Darche. He will never come back." "Never?" cried Marion. "Never at all? What do you mean?" "Never, in this world," Brett answered gravely. She seized his arm with sudden energy and looked into his face. "What? No--it cannot be true! Oh, do not deceive me, for the love of Heaven!" "John Darche is dead." "Dead!" In the pause that followed, she pressed her hand to her side as though she could not draw breath. "Oh! no! no--it cannot be true. It is another story. Oh, why did you tell me?" "It is true. The man who was with him when he died was here a moment ago."