We walked home without any more words, and I shut myself up alone awhile. Comfort came to me by and by, and when Mrs. Chloe remarked, as I kissed her good-night, that this had been a happy day, I was glad to be able to agree with her. The next day but one, as Amabel and I were returning from the village school, we were astonished to meet Mr. Cheriton. His face was pale, his dress disordered, and his jaded horse showed how fast he had travelled. It was just at the entrance of the avenue, and one of the grooms being at hand, Mr. Cheriton gave him the horse, with a charge to be careful of him, as he had made a hasty journey. "We were not looking for you!" said Amabel. "What has brought you in such a hurry?" Then turning pale as Mr. Cheriton did not answer, "Walter, what is it! You have ill news. What does it mean?" "That is what you must tell me!" said Mr. Cheriton, in a hoarse voice, not a bit like his own. "I received this letter yesterday. Read it both of you." He put it into Amabel's hand, as he spoke, and I looked over her shoulder. It was a very short and ungracious letter from Sir Julius, saying that he had heard reports injurious to Mr. Cheriton's character, and having learned from the best authority, that these reports were even less than the truth, he forbade him to entertain any hopes of his daughter, or even to see her more. "An enemy hath done this!" was Amabel's first word. "Yes, but who? I did not know that I had one. I know some idle tales were told about me at one time, but I thought they had all died out long ago. Amabel, you will not—" "Don't ask Amabel to pledge herself to anything just this moment!" I interrupted. "Let us go straight to Mrs. Deborah." "You are right, Lucy!" said Mr. Cheriton. "I hardly know what I am doing. Let us go to Mrs. Deborah, as you say." "Mrs. Deborah is in her own sitting-room, reading her letters!" said Richard, in answer to my inquiries. "An express has come from Sir Julius, with great news." I do not know that I have any Scotch blood, but I certainly do have at times an odd kind of second sight. The moment Richard spoke, I knew it all. We found Mrs. Deborah sitting in her little room, half office, half parlor. She had an open letter before her, but she was not reading it. She was pale, and her black brows seemed almost to hide her eyes. She hardly seemed at first to understand who we were, and asked somewhat fiercely what we meant by coming to disturb her. "We wanted help!" said Amabel. "Aunt, can you explain that?" Handing her the letter as she spoke. Mrs. Deborah glanced through it. "Too well!" said she. "I also have had a letter which explains it all. Child, your father is married again, and to Lady Throckmorton." [Illustration] CHAPTER XX. VISITORS.