"If he had I should not be here, sir. My father died so poor that there was hardly enough money to pay his funeral expenses. I tell you all these details, Mr. Gebb, so that you may understand my position here. When I found myself thrown on the world I did not know what to do, as I was unable to obtain a situation either as companion or governess. Then I remembered Ellen Gilmar--a relative of my father's, who I knew was living a quiet life in this place on the money left to her by Laura Kirkstone. I wrote to her and explained my position; and, as she no doubt found life here extremely dull, she asked me to stay with her as a companion, but without a salary. The offer did not attract me greatly, nor did Ellen on our first interview; but I was in that unenviable position when beggars can't be choosers, so I was forced to accept her offer. I have been here for the last five years, and on the whole I have no reason to complain of my lot in life." "Was Miss Gilmar kind to you?" Edith shrugged her shoulders. "As kind as she could be to any one. We quarrelled once or twice." "About what?" "I don't see that you have any right to ask that question," said Edith, quietly. "Still, to show you how candid I am, I will answer it frankly. We quarrelled about a certain Mr. Alder." "What! John Alder the barrister?" "Yes," said Miss Wedderburn, rather surprised; "do you know him?" "Not personally; but I heard about him from Mr. Prain." "Mr. Prain seems to have been very confidential. However, this gentleman wished to marry me, and Miss Gilmar thought that I ought to accept him, as he was the heir to the Kirkstone estates and also because she intended to leave him her money." "Without a provision for you?" "Oh," said Miss Wedderburn, indifferently, "Ellen was not bound to leave me her money, seeing that she had provided me with free board and lodging. But she advised me to marry Mr. Alder, and so make certain of being comfortable for life. But I did not like him, so I refused to become his wife. Now I suppose he will turn me out-of-doors." "Would he be so cruel?" said Gebb, with a glance at her handsome, haughty face. "He might, and he might not. He is much liked by his friends, and, I suppose, has as much charity as most people; but whatever he decides, I can't stay on here, now that he is the master. Does he know that his cousin is dead?" "I can't say. I don't think so; unless, like myself and Prain, he discovered her death through the newspaper descriptions of the Yellow Boudoir." "He'll find out soon, I've no doubt," said Edith, "and come down to offer me a choice of being his wife or leaving the Hall. I shall certainly go. But to continue my story. I remained with Miss Gilmar, and got on fairly well with her. She told me all about the murder, and her fears of being killed by Dean. Often she congratulated herself that he was in prison." "And what did she do when she heard of his escape?"