"No," said his aunt; "one would think not. But such a man would make something out of you if he saw his way to do it. If he knew you to be much in love, he might impose conditions." "Such as----?" "Well, such as that you should ask him down here to stay, or subsidize him to keep quiet, or something of the kind----" Denzil shuddered involuntarily. "--He must be a pretty nefarious villain not to have made public the fact of the girl's disappearance," continued Aunt Bee. "He must have had good and strong reasons himself for keeping dark. I wish we could find out something which would give us a hold over him, so that in case of his being troublesome we could keep him quiet." "That is not a bad idea," said Denzil, thoughtfully. "It gives one something to do--something to take off one's thoughts from the disappointment--the anxiety." He fell silent, twisting his hands in his nervous misery. "Aunt Bee," he brought out, at last, "whatever happens--whatever should come out--I must marry her. I feel towards her as I never thought to feel towards any woman in the world. I always thought all the stuff in books about being in love was such nonsense. But now----" He could not go on. "God bless you, old man; it will do you all the good in the world," said his aunt, heartily. "A thing like this shows one how far one's feeling is really genuine and deep. It is a good thing the path of your happiness is not too smooth. I do think myself, though I am not in love with her--I do think the girl is fine, and worth a fight. I have always known she had some secret anxiety, but have put it down to the fact that she could not be candid with me about her birth and so on. That she was actually engaged all this time to your remarkable brother has been a heavy burden to be borne by such young shoulders. Her courage and prudence are both wonderful." "Think," said Denzil, hardly able to speak for a feeling which threatened to choke him. "Think of her actually throwing herself out of a window down upon railway lines, sooner than suffer degradation! You are right. She is wonderful. Good-night, my dear aunt." They separated, feeling more in sympathy than ever in their lives before. CHAPTER XXI DENZIL DOES HIS DUTY But did she love him?--what and if she did? ... Love has no spell can scorching winds forbid, Or bring the help which tarries near to hand, Or spread a cloud for curtaining fading eyes That gaze up dying into alien skies. --JEAN INGELOW. A fortnight passed at Normansgrave, in doubt and discomfort. It was fortunate that the house was full of visitors, for their entertainment served to take off the thoughts of the master of the house from his own interrupted and absorbing romance.