us have risked letting her go? She has got three competent people to look after her -- Fosco and your aunt, and Mrs Rubelle, who went away with them expressly for that purpose. They took a whole carriage yesterday, and made a bed for her on the seat in case she felt tired. Today, Fosco and Mrs Rubelle go on with her themselves to Cumberland --'

`Why does Marian go to Limmeridge and leave me here by myself?' said her ladyship, interrupting Sir Percival.

`Because your uncle won't receive you till he has seen your sister first,' he replied. `Have you forgotten the letter he wrote to her at the beginning of her illness? It was shown to you, you read it yourself, and you ought to remember it.'

`I do remember it.'

`If you do, why should you be surPrised at her leaving you? You want to be back at Limmeridge, and she has gone there to get your uncle's leave for you on his own terms.'

Poor Lady Glyde's eyes filled with tears.

`Marian never left me before,' she said, `without bidding me good-bye.'

`She would have bid you good-bye this time,' returned Sir Percival, `if she had not been afraid of herself and of you. She knew you would try to stop her, she knew you would distress her by crying. Do you want to make any more objections? If you do, you must come downstairs and ask questions in the dining- room. These worries upset me. I want a glass of wine.'

He left us suddenly.

His manner all through this strange conversation had been very unlike what it usually was- He seemed to be almost as nervous and fluttered, every now and then, as his lady herself. I should never have supposed that his health had been so delicate, or his composure so easy to upset.

I tried to prevail on Lady Glyde to go back to her room, but it was useless. She stopped in the passage, with the look of a woman whose mind was panic-stricken.

`Something has happened to my sister!' she said.

`Remember, my lady, what surprising energy there is in Miss Halcombe,' I suggested. `She might well make an effort which other ladies in her situation would be unfit for. I hope and believe there is nothing wrong -- I do indeed.'

`I must follow Marian,' said her ladyship, with the same panic-stricken look. `I must go where she has gone, I must see that she is alive and well with my own eyes. Come! come down with me to Sir Percival.'

I hesitated, fearing that my presence might be considered an intrusion. I attempted to represent this to her ladyship, but she was deaf to me. She held my arm fast enough to force me to go downstairs with her, and she still clung to me with all the little strength she had at the moment when I opened the dining-room door.

Sir Percival was sitting at the table with a decanter of wine before him. He raised the glass to his lips as we went in and drained it at a draught. Seeing that he looked at me angrily when he put it down again, I attempted to make some apology for my

accidental presence in the room.