"Never mind. You will know everything soon enough—too soon for my wishes. Promise me not to think about yourselves, but only about madre, and how you can best help Nigel. We have to bear what comes; but the way of bearing makes all the difference in the world." "I'll try, of course." "And Anice?" "Yes—" faintly; "but what shall we have to bear?" Fulvia was silent. "Will Mr. Carden-Cox come exactly at tea-time, like last time?" asked Daisy, with a choke in her voice. "I hope he won't; but he is so odd, one never can tell. Shall I take mother's tea to her? And Nigel's? He has been hours and hours over those papers." "What papers?" inquired Anice. "I don't know; father's, I think—" in a lower tone. "All the morning, and now ever since lunch. He ought not, ought he, Fulvia? I should think he would be ill again if he does so much. Why, he has only been downstairs twice before to-day, and only for a little while." "Has anybody been to him?" "Yes; I went—when was it? Nearly an hour ago. I asked if he wouldn't come for a walk with me. But he seemed vexed, and said he was too busy, and couldn't be disturbed. So of course I can't try a second time." "Anice could." "I'd rather not. You can, if you like. You are always trying to put things off upon me," said injured Anice. Fulvia hesitated; then she went, tapping lightly at the study door. There was no answer, and she opened it. Papers lay over the table, letters and account-books mingled with other documents. Fulvia bestowed upon them a cursory glance. Nigel sat as if reading, the fingers of his right hand pushed up into his hair; but Fulvia knew that at the moment of her entrance he was thinking, not reading. The eyes slowly lifted had a faraway look. She closed the door, coming to the other side of the table. "This is too soon," she said. "You are not well yet, and you ought to wait a few days." "Time to speak out," was his reply. "Not yet. Think of poor madre! It will break her heart. If only we could keep the worst from her!" "Impossible!" Nigel spoke firmly, yet with a sound of weariness. "At least she need not be told now?" "I don't know. I must have things in train." "And get yourself into bad health again, like old days. Is that wise?" "No fear!" "Must you begin so soon? I can't see the need." "We have no means of paying our way. Everything has to be given up." "How have we paid our way hitherto?" "We?"—bitterly. "With your money." "But if that is all gone—" "Nearly." "Nigel, I am very stupid; I can't quite grasp things. If poor padre had not been taken, how should we have paid our way then?" "As we were doing, I suppose, till the whole was gone, and a crash became inevitable. The only difference would have been a little longer delay, and nothing left to anybody, instead of the pittance left now. I don't believe he fully realised how things were. There was always a vague hope that difficulties would right themselves." "No reason for the hope?"