"Only, if once she begins really to suspect, she will make frightful mischief, Dick." "Well, we won't be more than half-an-hour. Perhaps she has forced an entry at last, and has been all this time entertaining them at the châlet. Imagine Pressford's state of mind!" Another merry laugh from Doris, and the voices slowly receded. Mrs. Brutt waited, in a state of dire impatience, till she felt that she might venture out. Nobody was within sight. She peered in all directions, gliding with caution, and keeping the châlet between herself and the path they had followed. Her heart beat unpleasantly fast; for, despite her theory that she had every right to listen, the last thing she wished was to have her presence discovered. Not till she regained the main road did she breathe freely. She walked some way down it, and took a seat by the roadside. The beauty of the scene was lost upon her. She had other things to think about. Plainly now her duty was to write to Mrs. Winton,—not appearing to know of the engagement, but saying enough to alarm Doris's home-folks. It was no unwelcome duty; for the Rector-inn's importance at Lynnbrooke overshadowed her own, and she objected to be overshadowed. To give that importance a downward pull would be secretly enchanting. Doris would be at once recalled. That was certain. Perhaps she would decide to go herself also. She was growing tired of this place. She would find it amusing to watch Lynnbrooke developments. The thought of her new knowledge brought a welcome sense of power. Power that she proposed to exercise—not for the happiness of others, but as a relief to her own hurt and offended feelings. When she recalled the tone of Doris's allusions to herself, and the amused laugh which they had called forth from her companion, she was simply furious. Anything that touched her amour propre lay beyond forgiveness. CHAPTER XXIX What Next? MRS. BRUTT'S self-control was limited; and, despite her best efforts, she failed to meet Doris as if nothing had happened. There was a constraint of manner, which set the girl studying her, and wondering what had happened. Another letter to Mrs. Winton went off that afternoon. Mrs. Brutt explained wordily that, to her extreme distress, she had noted signs of a growing love-affair between Doris and the young surgeon,— no longer her "dear young doctor." She regretted not having found it out earlier, and felt that she had trusted too implicitly. Mr. Maurice's conduct had been most reprehensible. She would not have believed him to be capable of anything so underhand,—or Doris either, with whom she felt sorely disappointed. However, though Doris had said nothing to her, she had doubtless kept her parents well informed. Mrs. Brutt certainly did feel hurt at having been left so completely in the dark; but her state of health had rendered her unusually blind. Some medical details followed.