"So everybody thought. Well, he was taken down to his country house, and there for four terrible years Alizon Mostyn devoted herself to nursing him. What that poor girl suffered during those four years no one knows nor ever will know, for despite the blow which had fallen on him, Gabriel Mostyn was as wicked as ever, and I believe his curses and blasphemy against his punishment were something awful. No one ever came to see him but the doctors, although I was told a clergyman did attempt to make some enquiries after his soul, but retreated in dismay before the foul language used by the old reprobate. His daughter put up with all this, and in spite of the persuasions of her friends, who tried to take her away from that terrible bed-side, she attended him to the end with devoted affection. She saw him die, and from all accounts his death-bed was enough to have given her the horrors for the rest of her life, for only his lower extremities being paralysed, they said he tore the bedclothes to ribbons in his last paroxysm, cursing like a fiend the whole time." "And did she stay through it all?" "Yes! till the breath was out of his wicked old body. I believe his last breath was a curse, and just before he died it took two men to hold him down by main force in the bed." "Great heavens! how awful," ejaculated Otterburn in a shocked tone; "what a terrible scene for that poor girl to witness--and afterwards?" "Oh, afterwards she came up to London," replied Gartney, after a pause; "the old man had got rid of all the property, and even the Hall was so heavily mortgaged that it had to be sold. She stayed with some relatives, and there was some talk of her becoming a Sister of Mercy. I dare say she would have done so, her vocation evidently being in the Florence Nightingale line, had she not met with my cousin Errington, who fell in love with her, and three months ago married her." "Curious history," commented Angus idly. "I don't wonder she looks older than she is, after coming through all that misery, but I hope she doesn't make her past life a text upon which to prose about religion." "No, I don't think she does. I have been told she is somewhat serious, but a charming woman to talk to." "Not the sort of woman likely to be attracted by a sporting blade like Errington." Gartney held his peace at this remark and looked thoughtfully at his cigarette. "Does she love him?" asked the Master, noticing the silence of his companion. "Does she love him?" replied Gartney, meditatively. "I hardly know. Guy isn't a bad sort of fellow as men go, he's a straightforward, athletic, stupid young Englishman." "Married to a saint." "Oh, I assure you he admires and loves the saint immensely, judging from his enthusiastic letters to me about her perfections. She is fair to look on, she is a thoroughly pure, good woman, and will, without doubt, make an excellent mother. What more can a man desire? "I'm afraid you'd desire a good deal more."