"That is a strange question for you to ask; surely you know Edna well enough to be aware how deeply she can repent of her faults!" "Do you mean--speak plainly, I beseech you; do you--can you mean that Edna repents of her cruel treatment of me?" "Repents! Of course she has repented. Mr. Sinclair, you were very wrong to leave her. Why did you take her at her word? It was all temper; her pride was piqued because she believed herself distrusted. I know Edna so well; in spite of her faults, she is true and generous. When she loves, she loves once and forever; if she sent you away, she has been sorry for it ever since. What must you think of me for telling you this? I am so ignorant of the world, most likely I have acted foolishly, but it seems to me that truth is everything." "I think that you have acted nobly, Miss Lambert; you have made me your debtor for life, if this be true;" and then he stopped and passed his hand across his forehead, as though the sudden relief had bewildered him. "Oh, thank God!" she heard him say, as though to himself. "It is true." "I will believe it; I can trust you; my good angel brought me out this morning. The last seven months have not been the happiest time in my existence. I had my own trouble to bear, and then my mother fell ill. I thought I should have lost her, but I was spared that; still, her life hangs on a thread. I am afraid from your deep mourning that you have been in trouble, too, Miss Lambert." "I have lost a dear sister." "That is sad; but you have other sisters left to comfort you." "Yes; three." "I had no one but my mother and Edna; I should have been lonely indeed. But now I must not keep you standing any longer; the wind is cold, and you are beginning to look tired." "Yes, and breakfast will be ready; I must not be late." "Is Sefton with you?" he asked suddenly. "No; he is at Oatlands; he is not coming until Saturday week." "I am sorry to hear it; he would have helped me in a great difficulty. Sefton has always been my friend. Miss Lambert, I confess I don't clearly see my way. I can hardly present myself at Glenyan Mansions, and yet how am I to see Edna? If we could only meet, as it were, accidentally, it would be better for both of us." "I see what you mean," returned Bessie, whose ready sympathy made her quick to detect his meaning "Edna is very proud; you think it would be wiser to leave her in ignorance of this interview. Yes, you are right; there must be some other way;" and then, after a moment's consideration, she added, "There is a fancy bazaar at the Pavilion this afternoon; some friends of the Sefton's are stall-holders, and we are all going; every one will be there; why should you not go too?" "Thank you," was all he said; but his face brightened perceptibly, and then in an eager tone: "What time will you go?"