So, after a few explanatory words to Miss Davis, Hermia rejoined Mr. Wingate in the ante-room, and told him as briefly as possible the particulars she wanted him to set down. Pen, ink, and paper were at hand, and it did not take him long to draw up a short document, in which Varrel acknowledged that to him, and him alone, was due the death of Mr. Hazeldine. When it was finished, Hermia went back to the ward, accompanied by Mr. Wingate. The statement was read over to Varrel, who nodded his head in approval of it. Then he was propped up in bed to enable him to sign it, after which Mr. Wingate and Miss Davis appended their signatures to the paper as witnesses. Hermia did not see Richard Varrel again. At daybreak next morning he died. CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CLOUD DISPERSED, AND A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. It was on the afternoon of the fifth day after leaving home that Hermia alighted from the London train at Ashdown station. Clement was there to meet her. She had written a few lines daily both to him and to Aunt Charlotte, just enough to allay their anxiety and nothing more. When the train had gone on its way and the platform was clear of people, Clement drew her into the little waiting-room, which at that hour they had all to themselves. He had already given John and Miss Brancker all particulars in connection with his second visit to Stavering, and it seemed to him that the present would be a capital opportunity for doing the same by Hermia. Accordingly, he proceeded to tell her all about his interview with Barney Dale, and how it had resulted in a promise on his part that Hermia should go to Stavering as soon as possible, when an opportunity would be found by the old servitor for introducing her to Miss Pengarvon. Of that which the girl's heart hungered most to know--whether one or both of her parents were still alive--Clement could tell her nothing. When he had brought his narrative to an end, Hermia cried a little softly to herself. Why she did so she could not have told anyone, but at her age so curiously are the emotions intermingled, and so close akin does joy seem to sorrow, that both alike find their readiest outlet in tears. Presently Clement said, "And now, darling, have you nothing to tell me in return? All of us, your uncle and aunt equally with myself, have been on the tenterhooks of suspense ever since you left home with such mysterious suddenness. I hope we may congratulate you on having achieved the object of your journey, whatever it may have been."