"He told me nothing--and I asked nothing. But, of course, what the situation implies is unfortunately clear enough!--no need to talk of it. He won't and he can't vindicate himself, except by a simple denial. At any ordinary time that would be enough. But now--with all the hot feeling there is on the other subject--and the natural desire to discredit him--" Flaxman shrugged his shoulders despondently. "Rose's maid--you know the dear old thing she is--came to her last night, in utter distress about the talk in the village. There was a journalist here, a reporter from one of the papers that have been opposing Meynell most actively--" "They are quite right to oppose him," interrupted Catharine quickly. Her face had stiffened. "Perfectly! But you see the temptation?" Catharine admitted it. She stood by the window looking out into the rain. And as she did so she became aware of a figure--the slight figure of a woman--walking fast toward the cottage along the narrow grass causeway that ran between the two ponds. On either side of the woman the autumn trees swayed and bent under the rising storm, and every now and then a mist of scudding leaves almost effaced her. She seemed to be breathlessly struggling with the wind as she sped onward, and in her whole aspect there was an indescribable forlornness and terror. Catharine peered into the rain.... "Hugh!"--She turned swiftly to her brother-in-law--"There is some one coming to see me. Will you go?"--she pointed to the garden door on the farther side of the drawing-room--"and will you take Mary? Go round to the back. You know the old summer-house at the end of the wood-walk. We have often sheltered there from rain. Or there's the keeper's cottage a little farther on. I know Mary wanted to go there this afternoon. Please, dear Hugh!" He looked at her in astonishment. Then through the large French window he too saw the advancing form. In an instant he had disappeared by the garden door. Catharine went into the hall, opened the door of the kitchen and beckoned to Mary, who was standing there with their little maid. "Don't come back just yet, darling!" she said in her ear--"Get your things on, and go with Uncle Hugh. I want to be alone." Mary stepped back bewildered, and Catharine shut her in. Then she went back to the hall, just as a bell rang faintly. "Is Mrs. Elsmere--" Then as the visitor saw Catharine herself standing in the open doorway, she said with broken breath: "Can I come in--can I see you?" Catharine drew her in. * * * * * "Dear Miss Puttenham!--how tired you are--and how wet! Let me take the cloak off." And as she drew off the soaked waterproof, Catharine felt the trembling of the slight frame beneath. "Come and sit by the fire," she said tenderly.