I must confess, with a slight tinge of humiliation, that I pursued this young woman to her present situation at Highton Towers--maid she is to that eminent religious and social propagandist, the Lady Jane Glanville. There were certain details of which I stood in need, certain scenes and conversations of which my passion for verisimilitude had scarcely a crumb to go upon. And from first to last, what she must have seen and learnt and inferred would amount practically to everything. I put this to her frankly. She made no pretence of not understanding me nor of ignorance of certain hidden things. When I had finished she regarded me with a level regard. "I couldn't think of it, sir," she said. "It wouldn't be at all according to my ideas." "But!--It surely couldn't possibly hurt you now to tell me." "I'm afraid I couldn't, sir." "It couldn't hurt anyone." "It isn't that, sir." "I should see you didn't lose by it, you know." She looked at me politely, having said what she intended to say. And, in spite of what became at last very fine and handsome inducements, that remained the inflexible Parker's reply. Even after I had come to an end with my finesse and attempted to bribe her in the grossest manner, she displayed nothing but a becoming respect for my impregnable social superiority. "I couldn't think of it, sir," she repeated. "It wouldn't be at all according to my ideas." And if in the end you should find this story to any extent vague or incomplete, I trust you will remember how the inflexible severity of Parker's ideas stood in my way. CHAPTER THE FIFTH THE ABSENCE AND RETURN OF MR. HARRY CHATTERIS I These digressions about Parker and the journalists have certainly led me astray from the story a little. You will, however, understand that while the rising young journalist was still in pursuit of information, Hope and Banghurst, and Parker merely a budding perfection, the carriage not even thought of, things were already developing in that bright little establishment beneath the evergreen oaks on the Folkestone Riviera. So soon as the minds of the Buntings ceased to be altogether focused upon this new and amazing social addition, they--of all people--had most indisputably discovered, it became at first faintly and then very clearly evident that their own simple pleasure in the possession of a guest so beautiful as Miss Waters, so solidly wealthy and--in a manner--so distinguished, was not entirely shared by the two young ladies who were to have been their principal guests for the season. This little rift was perceptible the very first time Mrs. Bunting had an opportunity of talking over her new arrangements with Miss Glendower. "And is she really going to stay with you all the summer?" said Adeline. "Surely, dear, you don't mind?" "It takes me a little by surprise." "She's asked me, my dear----"