They could not well go to Linton Grange, for Percy was making extensive improvements in view of his own approaching marriage; they had no home of their own—in fact they were wholly dependent upon Sir William, and Lady Linton felt that no place but Heathdale would ever be like home to her. “We will not borrow trouble about that, Lillian,” she answered, “this Miss Norton may be very young and inexperienced; in that case she would need some older person, like myself, to advise and assist her; so I imagine that we shall still be welcome in your uncle’s household.” That evening, at a dinner-party, Lady Linton was besieged by numerous friends with questions regarding her brother’s engagement. She looked wise, and appeared as if she had been in the secret for some time but had not been allowed to divulge anything. It was true, she admitted, that the marriage was rather a sudden one; but of course it could not have occurred before, because of Lord Norton’s critical condition, and there was no reason now why it should not take place, except for etiquette’s sake, and her brother did not propose to defer their happiness simply to observe a law of fashion. They would not, however, appear in society at present, she affirmed, but remain quietly at Heathdale, perhaps until another season, while there would only be an informal reception of their oldest friends, at their home-coming, and to arrange for this she was herself going to Heathdale. She appeared to be very much elated over the marriage, spoke eloquently of the bride-elect, of her grace, beauty, and intelligence; for she was far too proud to allow it to be known that she had been taken as much by surprise as society at large by the announcement of the event. To Mrs. Farnum alone she acknowledged it; for that lady called the next day, and had asked her point-blank some questions which she could not answer, and she had been obliged to confess that she “did not know.” “Well, Miriam,” said her friend, “it is rather hard on you, I own, not to be consulted, or even asked to the wedding, but your heart will be set at rest on one subject—you need not fear that Alexander woman any more after the twenty-first.” “No; she may do her worst then. I have lived in daily terror lest she should meet William and everything would be explained. What do you think, Myra?” asked Lady Linton, suddenly. “She has got that diary!” “What diary?” “That one I gave to you to keep for me, the summer I was on the Continent—the diary you lost!” “Miriam Linton! how came she by it?” cried Mrs. Farnum, aghast. “She says her uncle was in the railway carriage with you when you left London that afternoon after I had met you at the —— Hotel, and you dropped it in the coach.” “Well, I am at least glad to know _how_ I lost it,” returned her friend, in a relieved tone. “It has been a most annoying mystery to me all these years. Does she know what there is in it?”