“Yes, yes, thank you,” Reinette, said, eagerly. “It was something of that nature, no doubt, and you lawyers are shrewd enough to see it, while I might have groped in the dark forever. I am glad you thought of that, and Mr. Beresford, you must tell no one what you heard from Louis Arnaud. There are many suspicious people in the world who would say hard things of Christine and—possibly—connect the trouble in some way with—with—father—and I will not have his name coupled with hers in any way. My father was a gentleman and a Hetherton.” Mr. Beresford bowed an acquiescence to the fact that her father was a gentleman and a Hetherton. And if there was any merit in being the latter, she certainly was a very fair representative of it as she stood up so proud and calm, and uttered her protest against her father’s name being mixed with that of Christine Bodine. “I am going there now,” she said, adjusting her shawl and drawing on her gloves, “and when I see you again I shall know everything there is to know of Christine Bodine.” Mr. Beresford felt a little doubtful on that subject, but said nothing, and going with her to her carriage helped her in, and then in a very thoughtful mood returned to his office, wondering what would be the result of that call on Christine Bodine. CHAPTER XXXII. CHRISTINE. It was more than a toothache and swollen face which had ailed Mrs. La Rue, and sent her to her room on that night when Mr. Beresford called upon Margery. She had a toothache, it is true, and was suffering from the effects of a severe cold, under cover of which she hid the terrible pain which was making her sick with nervous apprehension lest, at last, she was to be confronted by the girl whom she feared and shrank from more than from all the world beside, unless it was Margery, her dearly loved, beautiful child, who had brought her the letter which affected her so strangely. It had been forwarded from Oak Bluffs, and postmarked originally at Mentone, and it read as follows: “MADAME LA RUE.—Inclosed find a note from Miss Hetherton, who has written asking your whereabouts and that this might be forwarded to you. In my absence, my clerk, Louis Arnaud, took charge of my business letters, and, it seems, answered the young lady, telling her your address. Had I been home this would not have occurred, but it cannot now be helped. Hoping no great harm will come of it, I am “Your ob’t servant, “M. ALBRECH.”