"If he counts you a thief—!" "He wouldn't, if—I think she talks and persuades him! And till it was actually found in my box, he always trusted me—though I had been alone in the room with the note, when it was left out." "So had I!" "Ah! That was the very thing. I knew you had, and I couldn't bear them to remember that, and so I did not dare at first to speak. Uncle almost begged me to deny taking the note, and I would not. I was so afraid of making them suspect you . . . Felix, I must tell you the truth. I didn't feel quite sure of you, and that made me wretched. And now I see how horrid it was of me to doubt. Will you forgive me?" "I should think you might have felt sure," Felix said, in a constrained voice. "I'm not that sort of fellow." "O I know, and I do hate myself for it!" "Now, look here! I won't have any more crying. You'll wash the house away next. It's been a mess, and you've been an arrant little goose: and that is the long and short of it . . . I suppose, if we hadn't been so many years apart, things would have seemed different . . . Anyhow, it won't happen again . . . You just have to banish the Bryants out of your mind, and make yourself happy here." "Make myself happy! Felix, if you knew!" She wrung her hands together in an ecstasy. "Well, I've got to see about supper now. There's a single mutton-chop in the house; and I'm as hungry as a bear." "And I'm not hungry in the least. I couldn't eat to-night—I couldn't, really. I'm not shamming, Felix. I think I'm too happy to eat." "Rubbish! I'm going out to pick up something. My landlady never has a notion what to do at a pinch!" "I don't really want any supper. My head aches." "No wonder; after lakes of tears. You just tuck yourself into the corner of the sofa, and go to sleep again till I come back." Felix used gentle force to induce obedience, and departed. Lettice leant back with closed eyes, in a dream of delight. Dearly as she loved Dr. Bryant, the relations between him and her had been of late far too constrained to permit any enjoyment: and the very thought of escape from Theodosia was relief unutterable. Only—poor little Keith!—what would he say? "But Felix must come first! I couldn't go back," sighed Lettice. "I'll write to Keith very often." Then a tap came at the door, and in answer to her "Come in," Wallace's voice asked, "May I?" "Yes; please do. I want to hear about them all." Wallace entered, glancing round the small room, perhaps rather gratified to find Felix absent. Then his regards travelled back to Lettice's face, and remained there. "I'm afraid—things haven't gone straight," he said gravely. "Prue wanted very much to know; so I offered to come round. Has Anderson been in?"