She looked up at him quickly, and laid down her work. "I should be so glad to know where he is," she said. "I should like him to know—if it were only possible to get it to him—that I should make no effort now to go against him. I could, you know. It would not be difficult to find him; at least, it would not be impossible. But I shall take no steps to override his will. If he knew that, surely he would not want to keep himself cut off from us! He could write, and before he was sent abroad he could come here for a few days. Oh, if only you could find out where he is, and let him know that!" "I’ll go up and try, if you like," said Wilbraham. It had surprised him a little that she had not asked how or where he would try. He would go straight to Bastian, whose address he knew, and see Viola. In making the offer he had half intended, if she pressed him, to unburden himself to her about Viola. He did not know whether he was relieved or disappointed that she asked him no questions. She seemed to be too excited to think about it, though she did say, later on, that he could go to Mr. Gulliver, the Brent solicitor, but that if he did so Mr. Gulliver was to be told not to interfere with Harry’s actions. "The sooner the better," said Wilbraham. "I’d better go up to-morrow." She made no demur, and was silent for a time. Then she looked at him kindly, and said: "There’s no danger for you now, is there?" He was overcome with a wave of self-pity, brought out by the sympathy of her tone. "I’ve been through a bad time," he said. "I think it’s coming to an end. I don’t think there’s any danger now." "I’ve seen it, of course," she said, "and have been very sorry for you." He had not thought that she had noticed. Some explanation seemed due to her. "I did drink some spirits," he said, with a gulp. "Just once. I thought I was safe, but it brought on the craving. I’ve had my lesson. I know that I’m different from other men now. It’s not in my power to be temperate. It has to be nothing at all from now onwards." "I think it’s the only way," she said. "And for years together here you haven’t missed it, have you?" "No," he said. "It was very wrong to do it at all. I’m ashamed of myself—after you’ve done what you have for me." One thing she had done was to go without wine at table, except on the rare occasions on which there had been guests at the Castle. That had been for his sake, and he knew it well enough, though she had never mentioned it. She deserved his confidence. "It was when I went to see Bastian—the artist," he said. "After the first time I told him how it was with me, and he never drank anything himself while I was with him." "In the village they say he was a heavy drinker." It surprised him to hear that she had heard about Bastian. When he had told her that there was no necessity to ask him to the Castle, she had seemed to lose all interest in him, and had never mentioned his name since.