Mr. Grahame was, upon the whole, though rather mystified and vexed by a lurking uneasiness, glad that the deed, bearing the signature of Eustace Wilton, which the latter had never written, had so strangely disappeared; and he was also rather pleased, though perplexed, to find Mr. Chewkle had never returned to him, after his departure with the professed object of enlisting the services of two arrant scoundrels in the atrocious business of false swearing. He, therefore, set out on a business visit to an estate he possessed in Scotland, with a much easier frame of mind, and a more decided disposition to enact the part of a haughty feudal lord, than he had done on the visits immediately preceding the present. Mrs. Grahame and Margaret were incessantly engaged in fulfilling with propriety what they deemed the duties of the station they held. They were in their carriage one-half the day, and one-half the night at the opera, at _soirées_, and routs. Evangeline spent all the time allotted her by her mamma, and by the nurse, Mrs. Truebody, in Helen’s room; but in the sick chamber, or away from it, her soft footsteps and her sweet low voice were rarely heard. So the mansion was for the most part silent as an untenanted house of prayer. Helen was slowly recovering. She was still very ill. Since her raving in her delirium, she had never spoken a word. To the fond and affectionate questions of Evangeline, she replied by a faint, loving smile, or a gentle pressure of the hand, but not a word. To the physician or to the nurse, she either nodded slightly or shook her head, but not a sound escaped her lips. At length the physician terminated his visits, recommending that Helen should rise for an hour or two, extending the time each day, until she had strength enough to resume her ordinary routine of life. Mrs. Truebody had been most attentive to her patient; her medical knowledge was excellent, and frequently most usefully applied; her kindness, her patient, unweary watching, most exemplary; it had won, as it could not fail to do, the gratitude of Helen, occasionally displayed by a beaming look, not at all difficult of interpretation. One night, towards midnight, when Eva had, after embracing and kissing her sister tenderly, retired to her own room to pray, as usual, for the speedy restoration of Helen to health, Mrs. Truebody seated herself by the bedside, and took Helen’s wasted hand in her own, and held it there. “Miss Grahame,” she said, in a low tone, “you are progressing, though slowly, to recovery; but there is one impediment to your more rapid return to health, which, I confess, I am sadly afraid cannot be easily removed.” She paused. Helen turned her dark eyes upon her, with an inquiring look, but did not speak.