"Never you mind about me, ma'am," he said, admonishing her with a penholder. "I'm all right, and waiting to take my turn." "Yes, yes, you're very good, Mr Crampton, and you will see that everything goes on right, so that when he comes down he may find that we have not neglected any single thing." Crampton frowned, but his face grew smooth again as he looked at the little anxious countenance before him. "Don't you be afraid, ma'am. If Mr Van Heldre came down to-day everything is ready for him--everything." "Yes, of course, Mr Crampton. I might have known it. But I can't help feeling anxious and worried about things." "Naturally, ma'am, naturally; and I've been trying to take all worry away from you about the business. Everything is quite right. Ah!" he said as the little woman hurried away from the office, "if Miss Maddy would only talk to me like that. But she won't forgive me, and I suppose she never will." He made an entry and screwed up his lips, as he dipped a pen in red ink and ruled a couple of lines, using the ebony ruler which had laid his master low. "Poor girl! I never understood these things; but they say love makes people blind and contrary, and so it is that she seems to hate me, a man who wouldn't rob her father of a penny, and in her quiet hiding sort of way worships the man who robbed him of five hundred pounds, and nearly killed him as well. Ah! it's a curious world." "I've--I've brought you a glass of wine and a few biscuits, Mr Crampton," said Mrs Van Heldre, entering and speaking in her pleasant prattling way. Then she set down a tray, and hurried out before he could utter his thanks. "Good little woman," said Crampton. "Some people would have brought a glass of wine and not the decanter. Well, yes, ma'am, I will have a glass of wine, for I feel beat out." He poured out a glass of good old sherry, held it up to the light, and closed one eye. "Your health, Mr Van Heldre," he said solemnly. "Best thing I can wish you. Yours, Mrs Van Heldre, and may you never be a widow. Miss Madelaine, your health, my dear, and may your eyes be opened. I'm not such a bad man as you think." He drank the glass of wine, and then made a grimace. "Sweet biscuits," he said, "only fit for children. Hah, well! Eh? What's the matter?" He had heard a cry, and hurrying across the office, he locked the door, and ran down the glass corridor to the house. "Worse, ma'am, worse?" he cried, as Mrs Van Heldre came running down the stairs and into the dining-room, where she plumped herself on the floor, and held her hands to her lips to keep back the hysterical sobs which struggled for vent. "Shall I run for the doctor, ma'am?" "No, no!" cried Mrs Van Heldre, in a stifled voice, with her mouth still covered. "Better." "Better?" She nodded violently. "Then it was very cruel of you, ma'am," said the old man plaintively. "I thought--I thought--"