"Miss Lambert!" and then rather awkwardly they shook hands. "Who would have thought of seeing you here?" went on Mr. Sinclair, rather nervously, as he brushed the wet from his hat. "But of course one meets every one at Brighton, so I ought not to be surprised. I only came down last night, and I have already exchanged greetings with half a dozen acquaintances. Have you been here long?" "About ten days. I am staying with the Sefton's at Glenyan Mansions. Mrs. Sefton and Edna are both here." "Edna here?" and then he bit his lip, and a dark flush crossed his face. "I hope Miss Sefton is quite well," he continued coldly. "Indeed she is not," returned Bessie bluntly. But this sudden encounter had taken her by surprise, and she hardly knew what she was saying. "She is very far from well. Oh, quite ill, I should say; though she will have it that there is nothing the matter. But she is so changed that she is hardly like the same girl. Oh, no; she is perfectly different; not like Edna at all, and----" "What has been the matter with her?" he asked abruptly; but he turned his face away as he put the question. They were both standing by the railings, and now he crossed his arms upon them, leaning heavily against them, so that Bessie could not see his face. There was no one in sight, except the boys playing beneath them, and an old man hobbling on crutches. "What has been the matter with her?" he repeated, as Bessie hesitated. "She caught cold, and could not shake it off, and so her mother got frightened about her, and brought her here. But it does not seem to do her much good. It is her spirits, I think, for she has lost all her fun, and she is not at all like the old Edna, and it grieves me to see her," stammered Bessie, confused at having said so much, and yet not willing to be silent. "What can I say? What ought I to do for them both?" she thought, in much distress. "There has never been anything wrong with her spirits before," replied Mr. Sinclair, in rather an incredulous tone. But Bessie had caught sight of his face; it was quite pale now, and he was pulling his mustache nervously, and she was not a bit deceived by his voice. "Do you mean that she is not happy? I hope--that is--I trust nothing has occurred to trouble her." "Nothing fresh. Oh, Mr. Sinclair!" and here Bessie burst out, regardless of conventionality, of probable consequences, of everything but her honest heart. "Why do you not understand what it is that ails Edna? If you do not know, no one can--no one--no one;" and then, frightened at her own audacity, Bessie colored up to her forehead and walked on; but Mr. Sinclair was by her side the next moment. "Don't go, Miss Lambert. Please do not leave me yet. Tell me plainly what it is you mean. You are Edna's friend, and I know you will be true to her. You have a good heart. I see in your eyes that you are sorry for me; do not be afraid to speak out. Why am I to know what is the matter with Edna?"