"You will believe me, will you not? I couldn't bear to have you think it! Will you believe me, Felix? It has been so hard to bear. And I did not know what you would say, to find me here. If only you can believe me, I don't think I shall mind anything." "Of course I shall. What do you mean? Speak out, and tell me all about it." CHAPTER XVII. RULING PASSIONS. LETTICE dropped her head on Felix's shoulder, and he slipped an arm round her, as he had done long before on the Brighton Parade. Looking down on her pale face, that day came back to him; and with the sudden recollection came also the old sense—almost forgotten of late—that he had to care for her. If she had reached him, happy and in gay spirits, it might not have been recalled; but the pale lips, the shortened breath, the clinging hands, all cried out to the manhood in him for protection. "Don't cry! What's the matter?" "You won't mind having me, will you? Just for a day or two! I didn't know if you would like it, but Prue said I ought to come. May I stay only over Sunday? They can't have me at the Valentines'. And I'm not wanted at home. Except—Keith—but I do dread going back." "Can't have you at the Valentines'?" "The wind has blown down part of their stack of chimneys; and the floors are all broken through. It is such a smash! Nobody can stay in the house; and they are in lodgings. Only two bedrooms; and Wallace has to sleep somewhere else. Of course there is no room at all for me, unless Prue turned out, and I couldn't let her do that. She is wanted, and besides, they will have such expenses now? And we thought you would let me come here." "When did it happen?" "Only this afternoon; not long before I arrived. Isn't it terrible for them? Mrs. Valentine and Prue were so good; but they couldn't keep me! At least, I couldn't let them! Felix, do you mind? May I stay, just a very little while? I couldn't go back to-night; it is too late. And to-morrow,—that would be such a tiny little peep . . . I do dread going back . . . Mrs. Bryant can't bear me; and even uncle thinks I did it." "Did what?" "That—oh, you know." She forgot that she had not told him. "It has been so hard to bear. Sometimes I have felt as if I must come away to you, and never go back . . . Felix, do love me just a little. Won't you?" She tried to smile, and broke into a flood of tears. Felix at first answered nothing. He was dumfounded by the revelation of what she had suffered, even though the cause of that suffering was still hidden. A wonder sprang up, how he could have been content to go carelessly on for so long a time, knowing no more. She clung to him as if for comfort; and Felix was glad that she could not see his face. In an unnecessarily gruff voice, he asked— "What is all this about a bank-note?" [Illustration: "You take a bank-note! I should think not. My sister a thief! Who ever dared to hint at such a thing?"]