"Ethel, dear, I have gone through so much misery of late that it has subdued me, and I think I have learnt the great precept not to judge another," said Mary Ursula sadly. "I do not blame John Bent. I respect him. That a strange mystery does encompass the doings of that February night--so fatal for me as well as for poor Anthony--I cannot ignore: and I speak not now of the disappearance only. There's reason in what John Bent says--that Mr. Castlemaine is not open about it, that it might be fancied he knows more than he will say. It is so. Perhaps he will not speak because it might implicate some one--not himself, Ethel; never himself; I do not fear that." "No, no," murmured Ethel. "It is Mr. Castlemaine's pride, I think, that prevents his speaking. He must have heard these rumours, and naturally resents them----" "Do you think Anthony is really dead?" interrupted Ethel. "I have never had any hope from the first that he is not. Now and then my imagination runs away with me and suggests he may be here, he may be there, he may have done this or done that--but of real hope, that he is alive, I have none. Next to the death of my dear father, it has been the greatest weight I have had to bear. I saw him but once, Ethel, but I seemed to take to him as to a brother. I am sure he was honourable and generous, a good man and a gentleman." "You know what they are foolish enough to say here?" breathed Ethel. "That the ghost of the Grey Friar, angry at his precincts being invaded----" "Hush!" reproved Miss Castlemaine. CHAPTER XII. MADAME GUISE. IT was the afternoon of this same day. The stage-coach, delayed by the snow, was very late when it was heard approaching. It's four well-fed horses drew lip at the Dolphin Lim, to set down Mr. Nettleby. The superintendent of the coastguard, who had been on some business a mile or two inland, had availed himself of the coach for returning. John Bent and his wife came running to the door. The guard, hoping, perhaps, for sixpence or a shilling gratuity, descended from his seat, and was extending a hand to help the officer down from the roof, when he found himself called to by a lady inside, who had been reconnoitring the inn, and the flaming dolphin on its signboard. "What place is this, guard?" "Greylands, ma'am." "That seems a good hotel." "It is a nice comfortable inn, ma'am." "I will get out here. Please see to my luggage." The guard was surprised. He thought the lady must have made a mistake. "This is not Stilborough, ma'am. You are booked to Stilborough." "But I will not go on to Stilborough: I will descend here instead. See my poor child"--showing the hot face of a little girl who lay half asleep upon her knee. "She has, I fear, the fever coming on, and she is so fatigued. This must be a healthy place; it has the sea, I perceive; and I think she shall rest here for a day or two before going on."