"She is not in London, George. She has come back, and so far as I can judge, is not in the least likely to return to London again. Directly she heard of Ralph's accident, she came here at once to nurse him. Do not forget that she owes her life to Ralph. And do not forget that he loves the very ground she walks on. If my memory serves me correctly, he told you as much when you were doing your best to sell your child to that scoundrel Mayfield. If you refrain from interfering, that romance will end happily." "By Jove, you don't mean it?" Dashwood cried. Visions of himself, comfortably housed and fed at Dashwood, rose before his eyes. It was not quite like being the master of the house, but it was the next best thing. "What a fortunate circumstance! Really, my dear lady, I appear to be luckier than I deserve." CHAPTER LIX. "LONG LIVE THE KING!" On the whole it was a most marvellous recovery. The nurse had been a little severe on Mary; she had had no business to fly to the bedroom of the patient in that way. But Ralph was most emphatically of the opinion that Mary's action had hastened his convalescence. At the end of the week he was in the drawing-room with the windows open, so that he could catch the sweet fragrance of the summer air, and the doctor was jokingly congratulating him on the thickness of his skull. The London police had been very busy during the past week, but as yet no success had rewarded their efforts. Ralph had said nothing; it was deemed far wiser not to allude to the attack at present, and old Slight had remained silent in the presence of the detectives. Their superior air irritated him and, therefore, he kept his knowledge to himself. As to the rest, George Dashwood was in Paris. He had been sent there on an errand by Lady Dashwood, who wanted him out of the way. The chatelaine of the dower house was afraid lest George Dashwood should speak out and spoil everything. And Mary had more or less made her peace with her father, who had forgiven her. "I've no doubt you thought that you were acting for the best," he said. "You are not quite old enough fully to appreciate what is due to the family pride. Still, as nobody knows that you have so far forgotten yourself as to try to earn your own living, it does not much matter. I suppose you have done nothing to be ashamed of." Mary replied with becoming meekness that she hoped so. Only a little time before she would have flung back the suggestion with passionate scorn. But lately she had become more cheerful and gayer in her disposition. Still, the situation was not without its humorous side. It was not for Mary to point out to her father what a humiliating position he had occupied when he had accepted the impostor's offer of a home at the Hall. But as yet Mary knew nothing of the impostor's downfall, or the real story of the outrage on Ralph. All that was to come. So George Dashwood departed on his errand to Paris, and the mistress of the dower house breathed more freely.