Saxon asked her what she would like to do with her future. Her reply was almost inaudible--that she had no future, and did not care what became of her. Saxon was too deeply sorry for her to say any harsh words just then. Indeed, her grief touched him unspeakably, and he almost reproached himself for blaming her so severely for not attending to his first letter. It was two or three days after the funeral, and Saxon was making preparations to leave the old Rectory, where Annie herself could remain for a few weeks longer under the care of Mrs Shelf, when one morning he got a letter which startled him a good deal. Colour rose to his cheeks, and he looked across at Annie, who was pouring out tea. "Do you know from whom I have just heard?" he said. "No," said Annie in a listless tone. She did not much care whom her cousin heard from, as she said over and over to herself, nothing ever need matter to her any more. But his next words startled her, and she found that she had a heart and susceptibilities, and that once again cruel, terrible fear could visit her. "This letter is from a man whom I happen to know exceedingly well; I have met him several times in Australia. He is a certain Mr Manchuri." "Yes," said Annie, her lips parted and the colour rushing into her cheeks. "He says he knows you--he met you at the Hotel Belle Vue at Interlaken-- and that, seeing your uncle's death in the paper, he has written for a double purpose--to convey his condolences to all those who loved your dear uncle, and to request me to meet him in town on important business in connection with you." "Oh!" said Annie. She had been standing; she almost fell into her seat. "He says further," pursued Saxon, "that a great friend of yours, a Miss Priscilla Weir, is staying with him." "She told him, of course," said Annie. "What did you say, Annie?" John Saxon looked at her, a puzzled expression between his brows. Then he started to his feet. "I shall run up to town," he said. "I will go to-day and see what this means. It was through Miss Weir he learned that I was staying here. But for that he says that he would have come himself to have an interview with you; as it is, he thinks I can manage matters best." "Don't go!" said Annie in a choked voice. "Don't do what, my dear Annie?" "Don't go; don't mind him. He means mischief." "I don't want to be cross to you, dear Annie, but really this is silly. Mr Manchuri is a most excellent man; I and my father before me have both known him. My father has transacted some business with him from time to time. He is a first-rate man of business, and straight, in every sense of the word. Of course I shall go; I cannot possibly neglect your affairs. Why, what is it, my dear?" "You can go if you like," said Annie. "I--I don't feel well; that is all."