‘That you have not recognised her?’ echoed Sister Ursula, puzzled and anxious. ‘Just so. It is important that you should not alarm her; it is equally important that she should not be lost sight of, if what I suspect is possible.’ ‘But can you not explain?’ ‘Do not ask me to-night. As soon as I can I will write--or come to you. Pray trust me in this matter; it is a sort of miracle, not quite comprehended even by myself.’ ‘As you please,’ returned Sister Ursula, smiling, ‘since you are determined to be inscrutable.’ CHAPTER XLV.--AN OLD PICTURE. And now before I go,’ said Sutherland, changing his manner, ‘I have something for you: I think it will be a surprise. Look there!’ So speaking, he took out a pocket-book and drew from it a cheque for fifty pounds, payable to ‘bearer.’ ‘I see,’ said Sister Ursula; ‘another contribution to Mount Eden. Ah! you are indefatigable.’ ‘I assure you this is quite a windfall; I did not even shake the tree. Look at the signature. Do you know it? 5 ‘“Hubert Lagardère.” No!’ ‘Lagardère, the editor of the “Plain Speaker.”’ Sister Ursula raised her eyebrows and lifted her hands. ‘That man! Why, I thought----’ ‘And so did I,’ cried Sutherland, laughing. ‘So thorough a worldling did I think him, that I have been twice on the point of horsewhipping him. Well, I was sitting yesterday morning in my rooms when he was shown in. It turned out afterwards that he had seen my name connected in some way with this institution. He entered mysteriously, carefully closed the door, and before I could address him he handed me that cheque, with the intimation that it was to be paid over to you. “It seems to me rather a good sort of idea,” he said in his drawling way; “so I have brought you a trifle I won from Banbri Pasha last night at nap.” “Really, Mr. Lagardère,” I said, “I didn’t give you credit for so much sympathy with misfortune.” I added: “I shall have much pleasure in making public acknowledgment of your liberality.” As I spoke the words he trembled violently and clutched me by the arm.’ ‘How singular!’ said Sister Ursula. ‘“For God’s sake,” he cried, “do nothing of the kind.” “Excuse me,” I said, “it is only just. To be frank, I, in common with many others, have held your style of journalism in the utmost detestation. In one case, at least, I know you have helped to wreck a human life; it is only fair to proclaim that you are perhaps penitent, and----” He interrupted me with an expletive. “Nothing of the sort,” he exclaimed; “I don’t profess to be a saint, and I won’t have my character taken away. Damme, sir, what would the readers of the ‘Plain Speaker’ think, if they thought I had any commonplace compunctions? They’d all go back to the ‘Whirligig,’ vote me a molly-coddle, and, as a journalist, I should be ruined.” So I took the cheque, on the condition that I should not disturb the public in its happy confidence in the moral perversity of the donor.’ Sister Ursula joined heartily in Sutherland’s laughter.