'I!' Winefred now gasped. 'I――I know no one. I――of course not. How could you ask such a question?' Then, hurriedly, as though to cut short further catechising, 'I know what I will do. I will make you a present of an entirely new and fashionable suit of clothes, hat or bonnet, gown, everything, and Mr. Wardroper shall select them for you.' 'O my dearest!' exclaimed Jesse, and threw herself on the neck of Winefred. 'You could not have thought of anything better, of anything more calculated to secure him. One word in return for this kindness: Be on your guard against Sylvana.' CHAPTER XXXVIII A LETTER FROM BATH Jane Marley sat before the door in the shade of a bursting elder, in an atmosphere perfumed by its leaves; the sun was on the white rock against which the cottage was built, and sent a reflection in her face so strong that she was unable to raise her eyes from her knitting. Her brows were contracted, partly against the glaring light, partly through the working of her stormy mind. Dazzled by the sun, occupied by her thoughts, she did not notice the approach of Mrs. Jose, and when the latter spoke Jane started, passed her hand across her brow, and recovered herself with an effort. 'Deary me!' said the farmer's wife. 'Always busy. If Satan finds some mischief for idle hands, he need not come to the Undercliff. He will never find those fingers at leisure for his work. But, bless my life, Jane, what can be the matter with the birds? I have known them swarm here and sing and chortle like a concert of choristers――jackdaws, starlings, choughs, gulls, magpies――and to-day not one to be seen or heard.' 'I have noticed it. They are gone.' 'Gone! But what can have driven them away? Have they been chased and shot?' 'No――I have not heard a gun.' 'But this is amazing. What does it mean? I have not started a magpie, nor heard the pipe of a blackbird. It has never happened before. This has been a paradise of birds.' Mrs. Marley shrugged her shoulders. She did not concern herself about feathered creatures and their ways. 'You have not come here to tell me that the birds have flitted,' she said; and scrutinising Mrs. Jose's face she said, 'You have something on your mind. What is it?' 'I have had a letter.' 'From Winefred?' 'No; from Mrs. Tomkin-Jones.' 'Does she ask for money?' 'No.' 'What does she say about Winefred?' 'Not very much.' 'She is well?' 'Very well――and happy.' 'And happy,' repeated Jane with a tinge of disappointment in her voice. 'Come inside; the light here is too strong.' 'How the mint smells!' said Mrs. Jose. 'Yes.' 'And the young elder-shoots.' 'Yes.' Jane led the way within, and the change to the shade of the room was grateful. She signed to her visitor to be seated, but did not take a chair herself. She held a stocking three parts knitted in one hand, in the other a pin. She did not seat herself; she was restless and impatient.