No, no; he must forgive her, when there was so much at stake. Her hand closed involuntarily on her purse, that precious purse which contained the first payment for the fraud, she had been compelled to practise. About five o’clock that evening Madeline’s quick foot was once more heard ascending the stairs, and with hasty fingers she opened the sitting-room door, and rushed into her husband’s presence. He was up and dressed--(at all but the worst of times he would insist on dragging himself out of bed and dressing)--seated at her table, laboriously doing some copying, with slow and shaky fingers. It should here be stated, in justice to Mrs. Harper, that she had passed Madeline under the harrow of searching inquiries, and elicited the intelligence that she made her livelihood by law copying, and she was satisfied that it was a respectable employment. “Ah!” exclaimed the astute dame, “I suppose Mr. Wynne put that bit of work in your way, did he?” Fortunately for her new _rôle_, Madeline could truthfully reply “No,” for it was not Laurence who had been the means of procuring this employment, such as it was, but Mr. Jessop. “You will give me your permanent address, Madeline,” said Mrs. Harper, austerely. “That must be thoroughly understood.” “But you have it already, Mrs. Harper.” “Have you lodged there long?” she asked, feeling confident that no well-known counsel at the bar could outdo her in crafty questions. “Fourteen months,” said her pupil, rather shortly. “Then you must have been pretty comfortable?” To which Madeline evasively replied that she had been quite happy. (No thanks to Mrs. Kane.) And Mrs. Harper was satisfied. She had found out all she wished to know. Madeline’s past was as clear as daylight now! _Was it?_ And now behold Madeline at home once more, flushed with excitement, exhilarated by the change, by the money in her purse, and with her bright eyes, bright colour, and new hat, making quite a cheerful and brilliant appearance before the amazed and languid invalid. He was looking very ill to-day. These close stifling rooms and sleepless nights were gradually sapping his scanty stock of vitality. “Baby is asleep,” she said, glancing eagerly into the cradle. “And now I am going to tell you all about it,” taking off her hat and gloves, and pushing aside her husband’s writing materials, filling him up a glass of port, fetching a biscuit, and taking a seat opposite to him, all within the space of three minutes. “You have good news, Maddie, I see,” he remarked as he looked at her, and noticed her condition of suppressed excitement, and her sparkling eyes.