"Well, I dare say she thinks something; but those people never say anything so long as you pay them regularly. But there, I dare not stay any longer. There's a guinea, Claire; it's all I have to-day. Take that to Mrs Miggles, and see how the darling is. I must be off. I'll come in to-morrow and hear." "May, I cannot--I dare not--try to cloak this shameful story." "But you must, I tell you. Now, don't be so silly. Why, I'd do as much for you." "I tell you I dare not do this. I must tell papa--or, there, I'll be your help in this; I'll come with you, and you shall confess to Frank." "Why, he'd kill me. I know it has been a surprise to you, and you are a bit taken aback, but think about it, and you will see that it is your duty to help me now. Good-bye, Claire dear," she continued, as she kissed her sister. "Nobody knows anything about this but you, and it is our secret, mind. Good-bye." Claire hardly heard the door close as May rustled out of the room, hot and excited by the confidence she had had to make, but evidently quite at her ease, as her bright eyes and smile showed, when she looked up from her carriage and nodded at her sister. Claire looked down at her, drawn involuntarily to the window; and as the carriage drove off, and she still remained gazing straight before her, an officer passed and raised his hat. Claire had an instinctive feeling that it was Major Rockley, but she neither looked nor moved, for the face of a tiny child seemed to be looking up at her, smiling, and asking her sympathy. Then she started into life as there was another footstep on the boulder path, and another hat was raised, and an eager appealing look met hers, making her shrink hastily away, with her erst blank face growing agitated as she drew back trembling and fighting hard to keep down the sobs that rose. For all that was past now for her. With the secrets she had held within her breast before, how dared she to think of his love? Now there was another--a secret so fraught with future trouble that she hardly dared dwell upon all that she had heard. It had come upon her that morning like a thunderclap--this new trouble, known only to herself and the fisherman's wife. So May had said: for she had gone to her sister to demand her aid in happy ignorance of this part of her miserable story being known, beside much more, to little library-keeping Miss Clode. Volume One, Chapter XXVI. THE MONEY-LENDER AT HOME. "Who is it?" "It's that Major Rockley, Jo-si-ah, and he's walking up and down, switching his riding-whip about, and he'll be knocking down some of the chimney if you don't make haste." "Let him wait a minute," said Barclay, finishing a letter. "I do 'ate that man, Jo-si-ah--that I do," said Mrs Barclay. "I wish you wouldn't talk so, old lady, when I'm writing."