"You need ask him for nothing; but help in this case means money--as it generally does; leave the sum to him, but you must understand when you use the world 'help' what it does mean. I merely wanted to prepare you for that." "Thank you," said Grace, whose hopes were now sunk very low indeed. She sat silent for a few moments, and then, looking up, said, "Supposing you spoke to Mrs. Dorriman, she can say many things to her brother no one else can, and she always understands." "Yes," said Mr. Stevens in an odd tone, "I agree with you, she does understand most things." "When do you go there?" "On Thursday, I hope; and now, Mrs. Lyons, before we part let me know how am I to communicate with you." "Can you write to me?" "That is not quite impossible; but if your husband is to know nothing about this it seems to me that my writing to you upon business matters--now he is supposed to know all about your business--may lead to complications." "You do not understand, Mr. Stevens, he--my husband--never asks any questions. I merely told him I had succeeded to fifteen thousand pounds; he was very much surprised and pleased, I suppose, but there the matter dropped. Mr. Sandford arranged all about the money matters for me, and the money was settled upon me and then upon my husband." "That complicates matters of course; you have no power to give up money settled upon him; I see no way out of it." "Do speak to Mrs. Dorriman," pleaded Grace, "she has a great opinion of you, and, if you put the matter before her, something might be done." "I still advise you to tell your husband," said Mr. Stevens; "remember every day's delay makes confession more difficult afterwards. Then again, does not Lady Lyons know about it?" "I do not think she does," but as she spoke Grace felt very uncomfortable. She once again entreated Mr. Stevens to speak to Mrs. Dorriman, and as Paul got into the carriage again she could only trust that her persuasion had been successful. No one, however, can imagine how this dread of discovery weighed upon her. Each time Paul returned, when he had been out alone, her expression, when he appeared, was anxiety--did he know? had anything been said to make him suspicious? "I am beginning to be afraid you are tired of me," he said one day; "when I come home now you never look the least pleased to see me." "I am glad, dear; please do not take fancies into your head." "Well, I wish you showed it a little more; I am longing to get you away--you are much less energetic than you were a little while ago. The way you stick to my mother is very unlike you. I am awfully fond of her, and all that, but I like having you a bit by myself, and her too for that matter." Grace turned red and white by turns. She knew that she was suffering from irritability produced by anxiety. She was essentially one who could stand neither fatigue of body nor anxiety of mind.