By this time Mrs. Tice was perfectly livid, and trembling like a leaf. Out of the incoherencies of Dora's story she had picked an idea, and it was this which moved her so deeply. Dora looked at her in astonishment. "What is the matter, Mrs. Tice? Are you ill?" The housekeeper shook her head; then, rising with some difficulty, she went to a cupboard, and produced therefrom a book of portraits. Turning over the pages of this, she pointed out one to Dora. "A little man with silvery hair," she said slowly--"is that your guardian, Miss Carew?" Dora looked and saw the face--clean-shaven--of a young man. Notwithstanding the absence of beard, she recognised it at once. It was Julian Edermont, with some twenty years off his life. "Yes, that is Mr. Edermont," she said, astonished at the discovery. "And you are his--his daughter?" questioned the housekeeper. "No; I am his ward. Mr. Edermont has never been married." Mrs. Tice looked thoroughly frightened. "You say Mr. Edermont had a conversation with Mr. Allen?" "Yes: a conversation and a quarrel" "Oh, great heavens! if he should have learnt the truth!" muttered the old lady. "If who should have learnt the truth?" demanded Dora. Mrs. Tice closed the book with a snap, and put it in the cupboard, shaking her head ominously. She kept her eyes turned away persistently from the face of the young girl. Whatever discovery she had made from displaying the photograph, it was evident that she did not intend to communicate it to her companion. "How did you come possessed of Mr. Edermont's photograph, when you said you did not know him?" asked Dora suddenly. "I did not know him until--five minutes ago. You had better ask me no more questions, Miss Carew." "But can you not tell me, from your knowledge of Allen's parents, why Mr. Edermont has quarrelled with him?" "If Mr. Edermont is the man I take him to be, I can. But I shall _not_ tell you, Miss Dora." "Why not?" The housekeeper shuddered. "I dare not," she said in a trembling tone. "Oh, my dear, why did you come to-day? I know much, but I dare not speak." "Is your knowledge so very terrible?" "It is more terrible than you can guess." "Does Mr. Edermont know as much as you do?" "Mr.--Edermont," said the housekeeper, with a pause before the name, "knows more than I do." "I do not see why I should be kept in the dark," said Dora petulantly. "All that concerns Allen concerns me." "In that case," observed Mrs. Tice calmly, "I can only recommend you to wait until Mr. Allen returns. If he chooses to tell you, well and good; but for my part, I prefer to keep silent about the past." "But is that fair to me, Mrs. Tice?" "Silence is more than fair to you in this case," said the old dame, looking steadily at the eager face of the young girl. "It is merciful." "Merciful? That is a strange word to use."