During all these months what had caused Mona the acutest suffering was an anguish of shame. It never remained with her long, but it recurred whenever she was worn out and depressed. She had long since realised that, from an outsider's point of view, her experience that winter night was in no way so exceptional as she had supposed,--that there were thousands of men who would give such expression to a moment's transient passion. But surely, surely Dr Dudley was not one of these, and surely any man must see that with a woman like her it must be everything or nothing! If he had indeed torn her soul out and given her nothing in return, why then--then---- But she never could finish the sentence, for the recollection of a hundred words and actions and looks came back, and turned the gall into sweetness. And she always ended with the same old cry--"If only I had told him about my life, if only I had given him no shadow of a reason to think that I had deceived him!" But to-night it seemed as if the long uncertainty must be coming to an end at last. If she went to Borrowness at Christmas, as she had promised, she could not fail to hear something of her friend, and she might even see him. CHAPTER LIII. WAITING. The weeks passed very slowly till the Christmas holidays came round; but, on the whole, life had become more bearable for Mona. The future was as uncertain as ever, but she had at least one definite event to look forward to. There was a light of some kind before her, though it might be only a Will-o'-the-wisp. And a Will-o'-the-wisp it was destined to prove. She arrived at Borrowness late in the evening, and immediately after breakfast next morning, Matilda begged her to come to Castle Maclean. Mona assented the more readily, as the walk led them past the gates of Carlton Lodge; but at the first glance she saw that the house was shut up. It was some minutes before she could measure the full force of the blow. "What has become of Mrs Hamilton?" she said at last, with averted face. "Oh, didn't you know? She was awfully ill last autumn. Dr Dudley had some great gun down from London to see her,--as if Edinburgh doctors were not a great deal better!--and she was ordered abroad for the winter. Dr Dudley took her away at once, to Cairo, or Algiers, or some such place. We don't hear anything about them now. By the way, Miss Maclean, the very last time that I saw Dr Dudley he was asking about you." Mona could not trust herself to speak. "He wanted to know if you had gone to America with Miss Simpson, and Pa gave him a glowing account of how he had seen you in London." "At the theatre?" "No, no. Pa saw you once, long before that, one day in Hyde Park, with a lady--and a young gentleman. I thought it would be Lady Munro, but I never said so to Pa." It was contrary to all Mona's instincts to ask what any one had said of her, but the opportunity was too precious to be lost. Her dignity must go.