Bella drew herself up stiffly. She did not desire to appear too willing to obey the summons of her lover. Womanlike, she wished him to say that he was in the wrong, so that her pride might be saved. "I am going to Mrs. Tunks'." "What for?" asked Dora, bluntly. "Never mind," replied Miss Huxham, unwilling to confess that she was dealing with uncanny things beyond the veil. "I must go." Dora tripped lightly across the narrow planks, and slipped her arm within that of her friend. "You shall do nothing of the sort, you cold thing," she declared. "Poor Mr. Lister is quite broken-hearted by the way in which you have treated him." "Oh!" Bella became stiffer than ever. "Has he said----" "He has said nothing! he is too much a man to say anything. But I saw his poor, pale, peaked face, and----" "Does he look ill?" Bella was seized with a sudden qualm. "Ill?" Miss Ankers' gestures and looks became eloquent. "Dear, he is dying." "Oh, Dora!" Miss Huxham kilted up her skirts and fairly ran across the planks. "Why didn't you come for me before?" "You don't seem to be in a hurry to come now," laughed Dora, crossing in her turn; "yet the poor, dear fellow is dying--to see you." "Where has he been all this time?" "I'm sure I don't know, dear. He came straight from London last night, and went to my cottage this morning to see me. I was in church, so he came again in the afternoon, and asked me to help him. Oh, my dear, he is handsome, and I felt that I could do anything for him. I wish he had made love to me," sighed the romantic school-mistress; "but all he did, was to ask me to bring you to my cottage for an interview. So come, dear, come, and save the poor darling from an early grave." Bella needed no urging, for she was genuinely concerned over the news, and sped towards Marshely like a fawn, with Miss Ankers at her heels. Dora had no difficulty in keeping up, as she was a slim, small, dainty woman, more like a fairy than mere flesh and blood. In spite of her age, and she confessed to thirty-five, she had a pink-and-white skin, golden hair, and clear blue eyes. Dressed as she was, in pale blue, with many ribbons and ornaments, she looked like a well-arrayed doll, just out of a satin-lined box. But for all her innocent looks, Miss Ankers was a stern school-mistress, and during business hours behaved with great severity. Out of them, however, she presented herself to the village world in her true colours, as a sentimental, airy, sweet-tempered little creature, who was everybody's friend and nobody's enemy. Bella was always fond of her, but at this moment felt more attached to her than ever--as she had every reason to be, seeing that Miss Ankers had given up her snug sitting-room for a lovers' meeting, and had actually brought that meeting about. "You're my good angel, Dora," said Bella, kissing her friend, as they drew near the cottage, on the outskirts of Marshely.