"Conjectures!--no, conclusions from additional facts," said Gualtier, eagerly. "What we suspected is now, at least, more certain. The very brutality of that beast, Obed Chute, proves this. Let me tell you the conclusions that I draw from this: "First, General Pomeroy, under an assumed name, that of Redfield Lyttoun, gained Lady Chetwynde's love, and ran away with her to America. "Secondly, he forged a hundred thousand dollars, which forgery he hushed up through this Obed Chute, paying him, no doubt, a large sum for hush-money. "Thirdly, he deserted Lady Chetwynde when he was tired of her, and left her in the hands of Obed Chute. She was ill, and finally, on her recovery, joined the Sisters of Charity. "Fourthly, after eight years she ran away--perhaps to fall into evil courses and die in infamy. "And lastly, all this must be true, or else Obed Chute would not have been so close, and would not have fired up so at the very suggestion of an explanation. If it were not true, why should he not explain? But if it be true, then there is every reason why he should not explain." A long silence followed. Hilda was evidently deeply disappointed. From what Gualtier had said at the beginning of the interview, she had expected to hear something more definite. It seemed to her as though all his trouble had resulted in nothing. Still, she was not one to give way to disappointment, and she had too much good sense to show herself either ungrateful or ungracious. "Your conclusions are, no doubt, correct," said she at last, in a pleasanter tone than she had yet assumed; "but they are only inferences, and can not be made use of--in the practical way in which I hoped they would be. We are still in the attitude of inquirers, you see. The secret which we hold is of such a character that we have to keep it to ourselves until it be confirmed." Gualtier's face lighted up with pleasure as Hilda thus identified him with herself, and classed him with her as the sharer of the secret. "Any thing," said he, eagerly--"any thing that I can do, I will do. I hope you know that you have only to say the word--" Hilda waved her hand. "I trust you," said she. "The time will come when you will have something to do. But just now I must wait, and attend upon circumstances. There are many things in my mind which I will not tell you--that is to say, not yet. But when the time comes, I promise to tell you. You may be interested in my plans--or you may not. I will suppose that you are." "Can you doubt it, Miss Krieff?" "No, I do not doubt it, and I promise you my confidence when any thing further arises." "Can I be of no assistance now--in advising, or in counseling?" asked Gualtier, in a hesitating voice. "No--whatever half-formed plans I may have relate to people and to things which are altogether outside of your sphere, and so you could do nothing in the way of counseling or advising."