"You will be candid with me, I know. You will be candid with me because you could not be otherwise with anyone, and you will answer my question as a favour?" "If I can I will; you may rely upon that." "I knew I was right. My question is: Has anything occurred to make Miss Midharst disinclined to meet me?" "She is not very well." "You were good enough to tell me that some time ago. My question has reference to something else. Has anything of a personal nature occurred to make Miss Midharst disinclined to meet me?" "You know, Mr. Grey, that when Sir William was here Maud made a promise to him." "Yes. That she would look upon him as her personal guardian. Is it to that you refer?" "It is. I believe Miss Midharst wishes to consult her cousin on some subject of importance. She has written to him." "And will not receive me until she gets his reply? Is that what I am to understand, Mrs. Grant?" Grey's voice quavered, and his whole body shook. How had that letter escaped him? "I do not think Maud will be quite strong enough to see you for a few days more." "That is, until she hears from her cousin?" "Until she sees him." "_Sees him!_ What do you mean?" "She wrote him, asking him to come back, if he could." "That is not true. I never saw the letter," he whispered. "Yes. She wrote him the day she saw you last, and he is coming back. He has telegraphed to her saying so." "The day she saw me last! The day I met another woman talking to her." "Yes." "Was it at the suggestion of that woman she wrote for Sir William to come home?" "No; that lady did not, as far as I can hear, mention Sir William's name." "And that was the day," said Grey, letting fall Mrs. Grant's hand and pressing it against his throbbing forehead--"that was the day I forgot the bag. How soon is Sir Alexander expected here?" "Sir William, you mean." "Ah, yes; Sir William I mean, of course. I forgot--I forgot!" "We don't know exactly when he may be here, but he will certainly not be longer than a fortnight." "And between this and then Miss Midharst will not see me?" He had still his hand on his brow. She did not answer. Without taking any further notice of her he walked feebly out of the room. For an hour he wandered aimlessly about the Castle grounds. There were men at work, but he took no notice of them. When it grew dusk he crossed over in a boat to the mainland, and set out to walk home. The cool air and the walking gradually improved his tone, and little by little he became familiar with the new aspect of affairs. He was conscious of mental indifference, weakness, or numbness--he did not know exactly what it was. Thoughts and ideas and things had lost half their values to him. He felt like a man who wakes for the first time in a prison where he is to pass his life, only the prisoner's heart is afflicted with the memory of a better past. Grey, as he walked along, did not once turn his eyes back. He kept them fixed rigidly forward.