"What is the matter?" he said. "What are you alarmed at? I am not a bailiff--I am only Mercury." And he chuckled at the joke at his own expense. "I have a letter for you--from my friend Lord Leycester." Frank's face lit up, and he held out his hand promptly. Lord Charles took the letter from his pocket and turned it over quickly. "It's got tumbled and creased," he said. "Fact is, I ought to have given it to you an hour or two ago, but I was led on to tennis and forgot it." "Oh, it's all right," said Frank, eagerly. "I am very much obliged, sir. Won't you come in? My father and my cousin Stella will be glad to see you." But Lord Charles shook his head, and glanced at the pretty cottage, with its air of peace which surrounded it, with something like a pang of remorse. "I do hope this will all turn out right," he thought. "Leycester means well, but he is as likely as not to bungle it in one of his mad humors!" Then aloud, he said, "No, I won't come in, but----" he hesitated a moment, "but will you tell your cousin--Miss Etheridge, that--that----" Simple Lord Charles hesitated and took off his hat, and stared at the maker's name for a moment. "Well, look here, you know, if either you or she want any assistance--want a friend, you know--come to me. I shall be at the Hall. You understand, don't you? My name is Guildford." Frank nodded, and took Lord Charles's extended hand. "Thank you, very much, Lord Guildford," he said. And Lord Charles, with another rather rueful glance at the cottage, retired. Frank tore open the envelope and devoured the contents of the short and pregnant note, then he went in search of Stella. She was sitting at the organ, not playing, but touching the keys with her fingers, a rapt look of meditation on her face. Mr. Etheridge was hard at work making the best of the golden evening light. Stella started as the boy came in, and would have spoken, but he put his finger to his lips and beckoned her. They both passed out without attracting the attention of the absorbed artist, and Frank drew Stella into the garden, and to a small arbor at the further end. She looked at his flushed, excited face with a smile. "What does this mysterious conduct mean, Frank?" she asked. He put his arm round her and drew her to a seat. "I've got something for you, Stella," he said. "What will you give me for it? It is worth--well, untold treasure, but I'll be satisfied with a kiss." She bent and kissed his forehead. "Of course it is nothing," she said, with a laugh; but as he took the letter from his pocket and held it up her face changed. "What is it Frank?" He put the letter in her hand, and, with an instinctive delicacy got up and walked away. "Read it, Stel," he said. "I'll be back directly." Stella took the letter and opened it. When Frank came back she was sitting with the open letter in her hand, her face very pale, her eyes filled with a strange light. "Well!" he said.