Shortly after that interview with Nevill, George left the house. In the meeting with his mother he had told her the course he proposed pursuing. He had not asked her opinion or approval. He had no parting interview with Marie or either of his sisters. When he left Nevill he went upstairs, put a few things in a bag, wrote a few lines to Marie saying he had been compelled to leave most unexpectedly, and that he would write to her from London in a day or two, and that he was her own always loyal lover, George. This he sent to her by O'Connor. He then left the house carrying his bag in his hand. When Marie got the note she was completely confounded. What had occurred between the writing of the earlier one and this she could not guess. Why did not George give her some hint of what had caused his sudden flight? No doubt it had something to do with her. What could have caused it? This was almost as bad as the bad time in London. It was not quite as bad, for now she was easy in her mind about George. Whatever it had been that caused him to behave in so extraordinary a manner last night there could now be no barrier between them, for the only thing which could have had enough importance in his mind to separate them had the day before disappeared. At four o'clock Mrs Osborne sent word to Marie that she would like to see her in her own room. Thither Marie went at once, wondering if an explanation awaited her there. When she entered the room where George's mother sat, she saw at a glance that, although Mrs Osborne was now calm, she had been weeping lately. 'Come and sit by me, Marie,' said the elder woman, in a low, sad voice. 'Here, child, on this seat. Are you quite well now? You are looking better than when you went to bed last night, but you are looking anxious. Give me your hand, child.' 'I am quite well, thank you. I was very sorry you were not well enough to come down to luncheon. I hope you are better?' 'Like you, child, I am well in body, but anxious, very anxious, and I want to speak to you seriously. You remember a promise you made me yesterday? You remember a promise you made me about George?' 'Yes.' 'Have you seen George to-day? Has he said anything particular to you to-day?' 'He has not said anything particular to me. But he has written me a few lines saying he is leaving this.' 'He has left, my child. But do you know the reason why?' 'No. He said he would explain all by-and-by.' 'Well, my child, the sad fact is, you have deceived yourself as to the change for the better you thought you found in George. He has not changed his opinions since the bad change came over him in London.' The girl looked into the woman's face with frightened eyes. 'I do not--I do not understand you.'