When we had each our cup of tea in our hands, and the fat page-boy had gone out, closing the door behind him, Lady O'Brien opened the matter which I had seen all the time trembling on her lips. "Your sister has told me everything, child." "Ah!" said I. "I wished she would. Has anything new happened?" "Nothing; but Esther is in trouble. We have heard nothing of young De Lacy, though I have written twice to ask him to come." "That is curious." "It is, because the boy is a gentleman, and because he is head over ears in love with your sister. I have seen that all along, but I pick the locks of no confidences. I knew that presently my dear girl would tell me of her own accord." "He may be ill." "That is what she says. She keeps saying over and over that she can never undo the silence of the last few months, during which he may have been ill and dying. She has fretted herself into a fever." "I am afraid he is not very strong." "He is not strong enough for ill-usage. He would be all right in the life he was brought up to. I'm afraid Rivers was right when he was anxious about the boy leaving Brandon. Where there is internal injury it is so hard to know whether healing or hurt is going on." "What are we to do, Lady O'Brien?" "That's what I wanted to consult you about. You have a clear head and a still tongue. Of one thing I am certain. My girl is not going to have her tender heart broken if I can help it, the Lord helping me." She got up and paced about the room, all her little frame tense with a nervous energy I had not suspected in her. "You think it has gone deep with Esther, Lady O'Brien?" "What do you think, you who have been her dearest companion from babyhood?" "I think it is once and for ever." "I am sure of it. She is very innocent and very romantic. She feels that she has been waiting for him all those years, and about him all the dreams and the poetry of her innocent and ardent heart have gathered." "You know as much of her as I do, whose dearer self she has been all our lives." The old lady nodded a queer, triumphant little nod. "Ah, Hilda!" she said, "love is a wonderful teacher, and I love her like my own child. I would do everything within the law of God to make her happy." "You don't think it hopeless?" Lady O'Brien snapped her fingers. "Hopeless! I see no obstacle that other people can raise. The only obstacle I would acknowledge would be the lad's coldness or unworthiness or--" She broke off abruptly. "Or death," I said for her. "That is in the hands of God," she replied, "but I pray that He may will this girl, the joy of my old age, to be happy." "What do you propose to do?" "Propose, child? Well, first we have to find out what's the matter with the boy. I've written to Sir Rupert." "What?" I cried.