Ruth had often wondered in her secret soul if her aunt were doing penance for some hidden sin; it was the only way in which she could account for the asceticism of her life. She lived in an ugly house, in which all the rooms were hideous both in colour and design--all, save those which were occupied by the master of the house. His apartments, furnished by himself, were charming in every way. As she stood now in the stone-hued drawing-room, the melancholy of the place struck Ruth more than ever; and, moreover, glancing round the room, she caught sight of a copy of Thomas a Kempis. "She's taking to religion," she thought, turning over the leaves. "I really wonder if there is a secret in her past life to account for----" But at this moment a grim maid-servant entered I to interrupt her conjectures. "If you please, Miss," she said, "mistress is in the garret storing things, and she wants to know if you will go up to her there?" "Oh, certainly," said Ruth, wondering if her aunt were mad that she should invite a visitor to go poking about among old lumber--even though that visitor were her niece. But she meekly followed the maid up to the top of the house, and was introduced into a long, low, wide attic, immediately under the roof. Here Aunt Inez, in a stone-coloured dress, with a severe face, gave her an icy greeting. In spite of the summer warmth the garret was chilly, and this, joined to her reception, made the girl shiver. "I am glad you have remembered me at last, Ruth," said Mrs. Marshall, in her most metallic tones. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten me." "I found it difficult to leave the house, aunt; Neil Webster is there, and, of course, I have had to attend to him." "I heard the young man was back again," she said, in a muffled voice, "and truly, I wonder that my brother should have him in the house!" "Why shouldn't he? Neil is a good fellow!" "But his mother is not a good woman. She belongs to the criminal classes." "My dear aunt," cried Ruth, "I am sure the poor woman is more sinned against than sinning." "What do you know of her?" asked the good lady, turning a terrible eye on her niece. "Has your father----" "Yes, he has; and I found out a great deal for myself. I am sure Mrs. Jenner did not kill her husband." "You know nothing at all about it. Mrs. Jenner was a minx; I knew her well when she lived at Hollyoaks and taught Amy. I lived there myself, and managed the house, too, for your poor mother never did have any idea of how to conduct an establishment. Mrs. Jenner--a bold, bad woman! She came down to Westham after the arrest of her abominable husband, and lived at the Turnpike House----" "And there her husband called to see her on the night he was murdered."