"Assuredly not. You are not bound to satisfy the curiosity of the public. Though, indeed!" added Mrs. Purcell, "so much as I would have you reveal, should be sufficient to answer all questions. Moreover, I most earnestly advise Olive to accompany me abroad for a few months, and at the end of that time to marry you, Mr. Mallow, before returning to England. Then both of you can take up your position in this house without giving cause for scandal or public animadversions. It is true people may talk about our dear Olive's first marriage; but, for want of details, which I advise you strongly to withhold, such idle chatter will die of inanition." There was good sound sense in what Mrs. Purcell said. A bare statement of the facts which enabled Olive to reappear in society as Mrs. Mallow was all that was necessary. And none was better calculated to enunciate the facts than Mrs. Purcell, for one reason because she knew every one in the county worth knowing; for another, because her very prolixity made impressive what otherwise might have been looked upon as a bald and feeble narrative. She would take care that the sympathies of one and all were with her beloved Olive, and when, after a sufficiently judicious absence, she returned to the Manor House the wife of Laurence Mallow, her reception would be something more than cordial. "What a relief!" sighed Olive, when the old lady had departed in triumph. "The whole thing has been quite a nightmare to me lately. I am so thankful that Mrs. Purcell has found a way out of it." "Mrs. Purcell is a sensible woman," said Mallow, warmly, "and her opinion carries weight. What she says is perfectly true. You were so unfortunate at first as to be placed in the position of marrying a man who was not your choice, and, further, having married him, of discovering the fact that he was already married. The sequel is, I think, sufficiently obvious to the dullest of our neighbours. At all events, there is the whole business in a nutshell, and it shall be for Mrs. Purcell to present it to the county to crack. No word need be said of any connection with these Anarchist people. Thank goodness, they and their diabolical schemes have been very effectually disposed of." "Don't, Laurence!" Olive shivered and covered her face. "It is terrible to think of how narrowly you escaped death." "Dearest, a miss is as good as a mile. Thanks to that poor fellow Rouge, I came through all right. My only regret is that the death of Mrs. Arne, of Trall, and Drabble does away with any hope of our learning the truth. The reason for poor Carson's murder will remain a mystery." "It is no mystery to me," cried Olive, petulantly. "Mrs. Arne killed him." "She denied it most solemnly." "I dare say. Such a woman would deny anything."