She had decided in her own mind that the stranger must be Margaret Pullen, bringing her, doubtless, some news of her brother-in-law. She only stayed to smoothe her hair, which was rather disordered from Bobby laying his head on her shoulder, before, with a heightened colour, she entered the drawing-room. What was her surprise to encounter, instead of Mrs. Pullen, Miss Leyton--Miss Leyton, who had been so reserved and proud with her at Heyst, and who even though she had sought her out at the Red House, looked as reserved and proud as before. Harriet advanced with an extended hand, but Elinor Leyton did not appear to see the action, as she coldly bowed and sank into her chair again. Harriet was rather taken aback, but managed to stammer out, “I am very glad to see you, Miss Leyton! I thought you and Mrs. Pullen had forgotten all about me since leaving Heyst.” “We had not forgotten, Miss Brandt,” replied Elinor, “but we had a great deal of trouble to encounter in the death of Mrs. Pullen’s baby, and that put everything else for a while out of our minds. But--but--lately, we have had reason to remember your existence more forcibly than before!” She spoke slowly and with an evident effort. She was as agitated as it was in her nature to be the while, but she did not show it outwardly. Elinor Leyton had at all times the most perfect command over herself. She was dressed on the present occasion with the utmost neatness and propriety, though she had left her home labouring under a discovery which had pierced her to the very soul. She was a woman who would have died upon the scaffold, without evincing the least fear. “Reason to remember my existence!” echoed Harriet, “I do not understand you.” “I think you soon will!” said Elinor, as she took three letters from her hand-bag and laid them on the table, “I do not think you can fail to recognise that handwriting, Miss Brandt!” Harriet stooped down and read the address upon the envelopes. They were her own letters to Captain Pullen. “How did you get these?” she demanded angrily, as she seized them in her hand. “Is thieving one of your proclivities, Miss Leyton?” “No, Miss Brandt, thieving, as you elegantly put it, is not one of my proclivities! But Captain Pullen has been staying in the house of my father, Lord Walthamstowe, at Richmond, and left those letters behind him--thrown in the empty grate just as they are, a proof of how much he valued them! One of the housemaids, whilst setting his room in order after his departure, found them and brought them to me. So I determined that I would return them to your hands myself!” “And have you read them?” demanded Harriet. “I have read them! I considered it my duty!” “Your duty!” replied the other, scornfully, “what duty is there in a mean, dishonourable action like that? What right had you to interfere with things that don’t belong to you? These letters concern myself and Captain Pullen alone!”