Upon the morrow, playing her hand with masterly skill, Mrs. Major sought interview with Mr. Marrapit. With telling dabs of her pocket handkerchief at her eyes, with telling sniffs of her masterly nose, she expressed the fear that she had outstayed his kindness in receiving her. He had granted her request--he had let her come to Herons' Holt; but two days had passed and she had not found his Rose. True, if she had longer she could more thoroughly search; but as an honest woman she must admit that she had been given her chance, had failed. Upon a wailing note she ended: “I must go.” “Cancel that intention,” Mr. Marrapit told her. Her honesty smote this man. Had he misjudged her? She smothered a sniff in her handkerchief: “I must go. I must go. I have seen that you regard me with suspicion. Oh, you have reason, I know; but I cannot bear it.” “Remove that impression,” spoke Mr. Marrapit. He _had_ misjudged this woman; he was convinced of it. Mrs. Major gave her answer in the form of two smothered sniffs and a third that, eluding her handkerchief, escaped free and loud--a telling sniff that advertised her distress; wrung Mr. Marrapit's emotions. He continued: “Mrs. Major, at a future time we will discuss the painful affair to which you make reference. At present I am too preoccupied by the calamity that has desolated my hearth. Meanwhile, I suspend judgment. I place suspicion behind me. I regard you only as she whom my Rose loved.” “Do you wish me to stay a little longer?” asked Mrs. Major, trembling. “That is my wish. Continue to prosecute your search.” Trembling yet more violently Mrs. Major said: “I will stay. I had not dared to suppose I might stop more than two days. I brought nothing with me. May I go to London to get clothes? I will return to-morrow morning.” “Why not to-night?” “Early to-morrow would be more convenient. I have other things to do in London.” “To-morrow, then,” Mr. Marrapit agreed. At the door Mrs. Major turned. Her great success at this interview emboldened her to a second stroke. “There is one other thing I would like to say, if I dared.” “Be fearless.” She plunged. “If Heaven should grant that I may find the Rose, I implore you not to distress me by offering me the reward you are holding out. I could not take it. I know you can ill afford it. Further than that, to have the joy of giving you back your Rose would be reward enough for me. And to know that she was safe with you, though I--I should never see her again, that would make me happy till the end of my days.” Her nobility smote Mr. Marrapit. Cruelly, shamefully, he _had_ misjudged her. Her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, very gently Mrs. Major closed the door; very soberly mounted the stairs. Out of earshot, she walked briskly to her room; drew forth her diary; in a bold hand inscribed: “_Absolutely certain shall stick._” The masterly woman lunched in town. CHAPTER II. Mrs. Major Finds The Lock. I.