"But you should not have come out so early in the morning after you have been in the house for so many days," she said. "My dear," said Mrs. Murray, "it will have done me no harm. I wanted to come and fetch you back myself." Except for those two remarks the drive was accomplished almost in silence. And Eleanor was only too glad not to have to speak. The reaction after the long strain of the night was beginning to tell at length on her and she was almost too tired to keep her eyes open. She wondered if Mrs. Murray would let her go to bed when they got to Rose Cottage, or if she must pack her box and take her departure then and there. But Mrs. Murray set her doubts on that point at rest directly they reached home by telling her to go straight to bed. "And sleep as long as you can," she added. "But," said Eleanor, hanging back as Mrs. Murray gave her a gentle little push towards the staircase, "if I sleep too late I shan't be able to leave to-night." "I will wake you in time to catch the train I wish you to catch," Mrs. Murray said. And Eleanor said no more, but stumbled wearily upstairs, thinking as she went that, of course, she had not expected that Mrs. Murray would let her stay even to the end of the holidays, now some eight or ten days distant, but she had not guessed that she would be turned out of the house quite so summarily and even have her train chosen for her. However, the thought just passed through her mind; she was far too weary to dwell upon it, and in less than five minutes she was in bed and fast asleep. And she slept the whole day without waking, and while she was thus occupied Mrs. Murray went down to Wrexley Park and saw the real Margaret, the girl who should have come to her, but who had elected to do otherwise. Fresh from an interview she had just had with her grandfather, in which, though true to the resolution he had formed not to blame her very severely, he had been unable to refrain from letting her know how heinous he considered her conduct, Margaret was too nervous and upset to be at ease in Mrs. Murray's presence, and that lady, though making every allowance for her perturbed, conscience-stricken state of mind, could not help contrasting her constrained, embarrassed manner unfavourably with Eleanor's frank, bright demeanour. And Mrs. Murray felt convinced that the real Margaret would never have been as happy with her as her substitute had been.