It was a, great relief to find her pretty well in the morning, at least with nothing worse than a headache. She and Walter both disappeared after breakfast, and did not come down till luncheon time, when she looked so ill that Mrs. Lyddell was alarmed and insisted on her lying down and keeping quiet. Then Mrs. Lyddell said that Walter ought to go and call on Lady Julia Faulkner, and offered to take him there. Marian looked at him by stealth, and could have gasped for breath, for by what he did now, she thought she could see what line he would take. "Thank you," he said, or rather hesitated, "but don't let me interrupt your plans. I thought I heard something about--about. Salisbury. I have something to do there." "The girls did talk of wanting to go," said Mrs. Lyddell. "Did not you, Marian or Clara, which was it?" "My watch wants to have something done to it," put in Lionel, whose father had given him a repeater, which of course began its career by doing anything but going properly. "Well, perhaps it will he as well to go to Salisbury to-day, as Caroline has this headache. She never likes going there, and she may be able to go with us to High Down to-morrow." So it was settled, and they left the luncheon table. Marian happened to be the last lady, and whether it was fancy or not she was not sure, but she thought she heard on Walter's lips, a self-reproachful whisper of "Coward." The expedition to Salisbury, in which Marian was obliged to take part, prevented her from seeing anything of Caroline till the evening, and then as soon as Clara was out of the way Caroline rose up, caught hold of her hand, and exclaimed, "O, Marian, what have you made me do?" then walked about in a paroxysm of distress, almost terrible to witness. "Caroline, dearest, O don't!" cried Marian quite frightened; "do try to be calm! O what is it?" "O it will all be misery!" said Caroline, sitting down and clasping her hands over her face, "I little knew what it would be when you made me write to Walter. He says it would be wickedness--yes, those were his words--he called it wickedness in me to go on with it, as I feel now!" "And you mean to--" "I cannot tell--I don't know--he must do as he pleases; O it will make me wild! He must do as he pleases, for I must be wretched either way," "Dear Caroline--but O! how much better to be unhappy for the sake of doing right than when--" "Yes, yes--so he said--but O! the horror. It kills me even to think of what it will be! O, Marian, Marian--" "It will be over in time," said Marian; "but O! I am glad you have made up your mind--" "No, I have not--at least I must, I suppose--for after what Walter said I can't go on. Walter's words would be a dagger--O! I don't know what they would be, all the rest of my life if I did. No--you and Walter must have your own way; I am too wretched already to care what becomes of inc. But he--O Marian, I never can--" "If it is right you can," said Marian.