"My dear," she said gently, "we have others to think of besides ourselves. It would never do to desert them at the present moment. Besides there may not be so much chance of discovery as you think." "I don't know; I am certain of nothing," said Hersham, with a sigh. "I only dread one thing--lest Fanks should force you into betraying that which you would rather hide." "Don't trouble about that, Ted," returned Anne, dryly. "I think Mr. Fanks will find me more than his match. You need not have come to prepare me, for I am quite ready for the gentleman as soon as he chooses to call." "That will be very soon. He is in the village now. I don't want him to see me. For that reason I came here in a boat." "Do not be foolish, Ted," said Anne, quickly. "You must let him see you, else he will suspect that you know something about this matter. And you must be aware, dear, that you have your own safety to look to." "Oh!" groaned Hersham, "how are we to extricate ourselves from this mess?" "I think we will leave that to time; and you have me to comfort you." "Dearest!" he drew her towards him; "without you I should not be able to move one step. At present all is dark and dreary; but let us hope that there are brighter days in store." "I am certain that there are," said Anne; "but we have a great deal to endure before peace comes. We must go through the valley of humiliation to reach the promised land." "Well!" said Ted, emphatically, "when we do reach it I think we must go to America, there to commence a new life. It is no use trying to construct a new one here out of the ruins of the old." "That we shall see," replied Anne, with a sigh "God knows we have had a great deal to endure since the death of my poor sister. But let us for the moment banish this gloomy subject, and talk of ourselves. How are you getting on with your work?" Hersham smiled and kissed her. He saw that she was striving to lighten the burden which had been laid upon him; and he was grateful for the kindness. All the same he found it difficult to put his troubles out of sight and memory, seeing that they were so insistent, and that within the next half hour he might be called upon to defend himself from a dangerous charge. Alone as they were in the summerhouse, they were afraid to speak openly, lest the birds of the air should carry to Fanks undesirable news which would please him, but ruin them. Under these circumstances Hersham agreed with Anne that it was best to let affairs connected with the case of Tooley's Alley remain in abeyance, until they were compelled to take action. In the meantime the unhappy pair went hand in hand into a Fool's Paradise of make-believe, and hollow joys. There was something pitiful in this playing with happiness. "We will be very poor, my love," said Hersham, somewhat later in the conversation; "and I am afraid that you will miss all the luxuries to which you have been accustomed."