Erle's interest and curiosity were strongly excited. There must be some strange mystery at the bottom of this he thought. He had always been sure that Miss Davenport had some history. She was wonderfully handsome; but with all his predilection for pretty faces he had never quite taken to her; he had regarded her with involuntary distrust. He looked at Mr. Ferrers as he stood evidently absorbed in thought. What a grand-looking man he was, he said to himself, if he would only hold his head up, and push back the mass of dull brown hair that lay so heavily on his forehead. There was something sad in that spectacle of sightless strength; and to those who first saw him, Raby Ferrers always seemed like some patient giant oppressed and bowed down, both physically and mentally, but grand in a certain sublime resignation that endured because he was too proud to complain. "It must be so," he observed at last. "Margaret, I see light at last. Mr. Huntingdon"--turning to his guest--"I have been very rude, very uncourteous, but your words have given me a shock; you have touched accidentally on a deep trouble. Now, will you be good and kind enough to sit down and tell me all you can about Miss Davenport, as you call her." "Certainly, if you wish it, Mr. Ferrers." And, with very few interruptions from either the brother or sister, Erle gave a full and graphic description of Crystal's present home and surroundings--all the more willingly that his listeners seemed to hang breathlessly on his words. He described eloquently that shabby room over Mrs. Watkins's, that was yet so pleasant and home-like; the mother with her worn, beautiful face, who moved like a duchess about her poor rooms, and was only the head teacher in a girls' school. He dismissed the subject of the gentle, fair-haired Fern in a few forcible words; but he spoke of little Florence, and then of Percy, and of the curious way in which all their lives were involved. Only once Mr. Ferrers stopped him. "And Miss Davenport teaches, you say?" "Yes, both she and Miss Trafford have morning engagements. I think Miss Martingale, where Mrs. Trafford is, has recommended both the young ladies. There are not many gentle people living there; the Elysian Fields and Beulah Place are not exactly aristocratic neighborhoods. But Miss Trafford goes to the vicarage; there are young children there; and by good luck the senior curate, Mr. Norton, wanted some help with his two little boys. Miss Davenport is a Latin scholar, and they took her on the Traffords' recommendation." "And only her mornings are occupied? Excuse these seemingly trifling questions, Mr. Huntingdon"--with a sad smile--"but you are speaking of one who is very dear to us both."