The young man hesitated. Geoffrey was pulling furtively at his sleeve, mutely urging him to have nothing to do with the unhappy woman and her story. Evidently Edgar did not know what to believe. “You say you’ve seen him?” said he. “Yes. Out in the garden, with a nurse. Surely, surely there can be no harm in telling me just what I want to know. How is it he is there? Why was I not told he was ill?” As she persisted in her story, it was clear that both the young men were becoming increasingly alarmed and puzzled, and that they were at a loss how to deal with this intricate question. At last Edgar said quickly:-- “Hadn’t you better write about it? Write to Lord Clanfield?” “No,” said Audrey firmly. “I won’t write. I must see him. And at once--now--I won’t go away till I have seen him. Look, there’s no need for you to be afraid. I don’t wish to force myself into Gerard’s presence until I’m sure I can see him without it’s being a shock to him.” “By Jove, it would be!” put in Geoffrey in a tone that brought the angry blood to the poor wife’s cheeks. But Edgar gave him a sort of side kick as a gentle recommendation to be quiet, and after a little hesitation and stammering said:-- “Look here, Madame. I don’t think it’s of the least use for you to try and see my father or my cousin. I’m almost sure Lord Clanfield wouldn’t see you, and that my cousin wouldn’t be allowed to see you. You might understand that it wouldn’t be wise. But if you like I’ll go in and tell him what you’ve just told me, and I’ll bring you word what he says.” Although Audrey was fully resolved that, whether he liked it or not, Lord Clanfield should see her, she thought that compliance with the proposal was the best course to begin with. So she agreed to remain where she was, and not to approach the house for the present, while Edgar returned to it. Geoffrey, meanwhile, after a muttered exchange of a few words with his brother, retreated into the recesses of the trees of the park, and Audrey guessed that he was, as it were, on guard, set to watch her movements during his brother’s absence, and to prevent, if necessary, any attempt on her part to break faith. In the meantime Edgar fulfilled his mission reluctantly enough. Returning to the house, he went straight to the study, where his father was spending the afternoon with his magazines and books. “What is the matter? Is Gerard worse?” were the viscount’s first words, when his son entered, with a perturbed and uneasy air. “N-n-no, but--he’s likely to be worse if something I’ve got to tell you is true!” was Edgar’s somewhat blundering reply. “Well!” said Lord Clanfield sharply. “There’s a--a--woman come--she’s in the park now, who says--who says she’s--his wife.” Lord Clanfield looked more relieved than alarmed. He rose to his feet. “And don’t you think it is his wife? I wish to heaven she would come; for the greatest drawback to his getting better is the terrible depression caused by her disappearance.”