elaine's room was at some distance from nora's; they were in different wings. miss harding, whose habits were, in some respects, peculiar, always preferred that her room should not be too close to her friend's; though nora herself would have liked to have had her nearer. to reach miss lindsay elaine had to traverse a lengthy passage, which was divided in the centre by a square opening, which was used sometimes as a lounge. as miss harding moved along some one came out of this recess, and addressed her. it was morgan, the butler.

mr. morgan was tall and fair--very fair. his face and eyebrows, and eyelashes, and hair were all of the same colour; it had rather an odd effect, which some people thought unpleasant. many persons have an uncomfortable habit of never looking you in the face; he had what some felt was a nearly equally uncomfortable habit of never looking away from your face; he regarded any one with whom he might be talking with a fixed, impassive stare, which never faltered; there was a quality in his light greyish-blue eyes which, under such circumstances, was occasionally disconcerting. miss harding, who, in her way, was shrewd enough, had never known what to make of him; more than once, during her visits to cloverlea, she had had a vague feeling that his demeanour towards her was not quite all that it ought to have been; the feeling came to her with unpleasant force as he stood before her then. yet nothing could have been more decorous than his bearing; while he spoke with the softly modulated voice with which a well-trained servant ought to speak.

"i beg your pardon, miss harding, but can i speak to you for a moment?"

she said him neither yea nor nay, but put to him a question in return.

"what is it, morgan?"

"it's about these."

he was extending towards her, on his open palm, what she perceived were three sovereigns. whose they were, whence they came, what they meant, she had not a notion; but all at once she was conscious, not only of a curious fluttering of the heart, but of a desire to get away from him as quickly as she could.

"i can't stop now; if you have anything you wish to say you must say it later; i'm going to miss lindsay, she's waiting for me; and--i'm not feeling very well."

why she added that last remark she did not know; a second after she wished it had been left unuttered--he fastened on it with such singular eagerness.

"you're not looking well--i've noticed it."

she was just about to hurry on, but there was something about the way in which he spoke which induced her to pause; something impertinent, which stung her, so that she regarded him with angry eyes, and replied to him with scorn.

"it's very good of you."

"i've noticed that you've not been looking well--ever since last thursday."

this time he spoke with a significance which startled her, though she did not understand.

"why since last thursday?"

"i'll tell you. i was in the study when you were. after you had gone i found these three sovereigns. one was lying on the floor, and the other two were lodged on the shelves of the bookcase. and ever since then i've noticed that you've not been looking well."

a great horror was stealing over her, which she tried to get the better of, but failed. he regarded her with that impassive stare of his, which compelled her eyes to be fixed on his, whether they would or they would not.

"i--i don't know what you--what you mean."

it was strange how her voice trembled; his was steady enough, like the voice of doom.

"i'll explain. you remember last thursday, the day on which the master was taken ill? i don't think you're ever likely to forget it. it occurred to me, after dinner, that the lamp had been left lighted, and the window open; so i went to put out the one and shut the other. when i got into the room, rather to my surprise, i found that the lamp was out, though the window was still open. as i stood there, in the darkness, i heard some one outside, coming along the terrace; presently you appeared at the open window. the moon was shining through the window, and you stood right in the moonshine, so that i saw you as plainly as if it had been daylight. but in the room it was darker; i expect that, coming in out of the moonlight, it seemed darker to you than it did to me. you didn't know i was there; i suppose that, being in a bit of a hurry, and with your thoughts all fixed on one thing, you took it for granted that the room was empty. it was rather funny--that's how it struck me at the time, and that's how it's struck me more than once; but perhaps that's because i've got a very keen eye for anything humorous.

"you went right across the room towards the oak bookcase which stands on the other side of the door, passing so close to me that i felt the wind of your skirts against my trousers as you passed, and i guessed that you knew what you were after before you came there, though i never guessed for a moment what it was. the bookcase was in the shadow, and mine not being cat's eyes, i couldn't see all that you were doing; but i could hear; and there are times when the sense of hearing conveys a good deal of information. i heard you takedown some of the books, then a rustling, then the chink of money. by that time you may be sure that i was all ears, and eyes--mine had almost become cat's eyes before you'd finished. i saw that you had something white in your hand, which i guessed was your pocket-handkerchief; and i partly saw, and partly heard, that you were shovelling coins on it which you were taking from one of the bookcase shelves. either there were too many coins for such a small handkerchief--those handkerchiefs of yours are pretty, but they're small; i like one which is about the size of a towel--or else you were a little clumsy; you're not, as a rule, i know; i've often been struck by the natty way you have of doing things; but perhaps being in such a hurry made you a trifle nervous. anyhow, as you're aware, you dropped some of the coins which you were putting into the handkerchief; i heard them fall, and so did you. you stooped to pick them up. i expected every second that you'd strike a match, or get a light somehow; in which case you'd have seen me, and it might have been funnier still. but you didn't. you felt, and felt, and felt; i take it that you thought you'd felt everywhere, and that as you could feel no more of the coins, that you'd picked up all you'd dropped. presently, whether satisfied or not upon that point, you went out the way that you'd come in."

mr. morgan paused, and miss harding tried to breathe. it seemed to her that she was choking; that she was bound about as if with bands of iron. if there was anything peculiar in her appearance the butler made no comment; he went on in his easy, softly modulated tones.

"i heard you return along the terrace; i waited till i could hear no more of you; then i shut the window, and drew the curtains; then i lit the lamp, and with its aid i subjected the room to a careful examination, and in less than five seconds i found a sovereign on the floor by the bookcase, and then two more on the shelves. here they are."

he again extended his hand, with the three shining discs on the open palm. she started back from them, gasping, as if they were dangerous things, of which she stood in physical terror.

"i've marked each coin--see? i want you to notice them carefully, so that you may recognize them, if you see them again." he held up one of the coins between his finger and thumb. "of course when i found these i knew what had happened; understood it all--better even than you did. i knew some of the governor's little ways, which perhaps you didn't; a man in my position has to keep a sharp look-out; it's part of his duty--to himself. i knew all about the governor's habit of paying into his banking account three thousand pounds every quarter, in notes and gold, which dr. banyard has been telling you young ladies about, as if it was news; i'd seen the money on his table, that afternoon when i was helping to carry him away, the next day being his usual one for paying in, i knew what it was there for. he was a man of regular habits, was my late governor; though some of them were queer ones. there wasn't any of it left, except these three sovereigns which, in the dark, had escaped your notice. because why?--because you'd taken the lot. i consider that a remarkable thing for any one to do, especially for a real young lady. never before, in my experience, have i known the friend of the house take instant advantage of the host's sudden illness to play a game like that. remarkable, i call it; most remarkable."

each time that mr. morgan paused the girl before him gasped, as if the mere cessation of his speech removed from her some sense of constriction, which prevented the free play of her lungs.

"don't suppose," he continued, with what he possibly intended to be affability, "that i am saying this to you in any unfriendly spirit; because i'm not--nothing of the kind. i've always felt that there was in you the makings of something remarkable, though i must admit that you've gone beyond my expectations. i've always liked you, miss harding; in fact, i've nearly more than liked you. i want you to understand that you've made of me what you might call an unintentional confidant; so why should there be any barriers between us? socially there are none to speak of. your father's a poor country parson, mine was a schoolmaster; there isn't much to choose between them; if i was asked i should say that i don't think much of either. pecuniarily the advantage is all on my side, as i happen to know; and that in spite of the three thousand pounds you have of somebody else's. very comfortable i could make a wife, if i had one; she'd be quite the lady. i've no complaint to make about your manner towards me in public; i humbly venture to hope that after this intimation of my friendly feeling towards you, you'll be even affable when we're alone together--if ever we are. it's all up with everything here; from what i happen to know, i shouldn't be surprised if the house, and all that's in it, was sold for what it will fetch in a surprisingly short space of time. then we shall all be parted. miss lindsay will go her way--though i don't know what way that'll be; you'll go yours, and i shall go mine. this will be my last taste of service. when you meet me again afterwards you'll find me a perfect gentleman, whom you won't be a bit ashamed to introduce to your friends; and i assure you i'll do my best to earn their respect and esteem. i won't detain you any longer, miss harding--you'll understand that i had to speak to you; and that, situated as i am, i had to take the first chance that offered. now you can go to miss lindsay with a mind at ease. if an opportunity offers you might inform her what a feeling of true sympathy there is for her in the servants' hall. it's very hard for a young lady, who has been brought up in the lap of luxury, to be all at once left with hardly clothes enough to cover her, because, between ourselves, that's what's going to happen to her; and down-stairs we earnestly trust, if i may use the language of metaphor, that her back will be broadened for the burden. there's many a young girl like her who has to earn her bread in ways i shouldn't like to mention; let's hope she won't come to any of those. you might mention, if you have the chance, that we all of us wish her the very best of luck."

with a slight inclination of his head, which might almost have been mistaken for a nod, mr. morgan went past her towards the staircase. she remained where he had left her, as if her feet were glued to the carpet. her inclination would have been to return to her own bedroom; there she would at least be alone, to try to think; but the butler was between it and her. as she glanced in the direction of her room, looking over his shoulder he glanced towards her, and she ran towards nora's room.

without knocking she opened the door and entered; but so soon as she had crossed the threshold she stood motionless, as if all her limbs were locked together. nora, seated on an arm-chair, was leaning on the sill of the open window, trying, in her own fashion, to find light in the darkness which threatened to encompass her round about; when she turned it seemed, from the expression which was on her face, as if she had found it. certainly a stranger, observing the two girls, would have said that it was elaine harding who stood most in need of consolation; and so nora seemed herself to think. that divine instinct which, in some people, wakes to life in the presence of suffering, was quick to perceive that here was trouble which was greater than hers. she held out her arms, crying--

"you poor child!"

it was enough; elaine needed no further invitation. with eager, tremulous steps, and a cry which was half gasp, half sob, she went fluttering across the room, sinking in a heap at nora's feet, pillowing her head upon her lap, crying as if the violence of her grief would tear her asunder. smoothing her hair with her soft hands, stooping down and kissing her tenderly, using towards her all manner of endearments, nora strove her utmost to assuage the passion of her woe, in seeming forgetfulness of how much she herself was in need of comfort. but elaine was not to be consoled.