"My Uncle Joseph's papers are not arranged yet; I am anxious to get on with them," he said, by way of excuse. And in truth that, so far, was so. In his mind's terrible distress the sorting of the papers had been much neglected. "At least, you will come to town to fetch Lucy home." "Of course I will." The affair decided, they strolled the whole length of the walk in silence. Karl's thoughts were no doubt busy: Mrs. Cleeve was wishing to say something else, and did not quite know how to begin. "What a nice evening it is!" cried Karl. "How fair the weather continues to be!" "Yes. But the hedges are showing signs of winter. I noticed it particularly when I was out with Theresa this morning. That was the Maze, I think, that we saw you coming out of." Karl assented. There was no help for it. "Does the young lady live there alone still?" "She has her servants with her." "But not her husband." "Mr. Grey, it is understood, spends a good deal of his time in travelling." "Sir Karl, I think I must ask you plainly. I have been wanting to ask you," she said, taking courage. "Is there any reason for supposing that this lady is not--is not quite what she ought to be?" "Why, what do you mean?" returned Karl, standing still in his surprise. "Are you speaking of Mrs. Grey?" "It is almost impossible to avoid attaching some doubt to a young and lovely woman, when she lives so unaccountably secluded a life," returned Mrs. Cleeve, calling up the most plausible excuse she could for her suspicions. "The very fact of her keeping herself so secluded ought to absolve Mrs. Grey from it," said Karl warmly. "She is a good and honourable lady." "You feel sure of that?" "I am sure of it. I know it. Believe me, dear Mrs. Cleeve, that Lucy herself is not more pure and innocent than that pure lady is," he added, taking Mrs. Cleeve's hands in his earnestness, in his anxiety to convince her. "She has had great trouble to try her; she may be said to live in trouble: but heaven knows how good she is, and how persistently she strives to be resigned, and endure." Mrs. Cleeve kept the sensitive hands in hers; she saw how worthy of trust he was in his earnestness; and every doubt went out of her. "I am very glad to hear it. I hope she and you will pardon my foolish thoughts. You go to see her sometimes, I believe?" "When I think I can be of any use, I go. Her husband was once my dear friend: I go there for his sake." "Why does he not live here with her?" "He cannot always do just as he would. Just now he is in bad health." "And she lost her baby, I hear." "Yes. It was a great grief to both of them." The sounding of the dinner-gong stopped the questioning. We may be assured Karl lost no time in conducting Mrs. Cleeve to the house. CHAPTER XX. At the Red Dawn.