She found herself
unconsciously going in the direction of the grove; but when she became
aware of it a great revulsion overcame her, and she shuddered.

Slowly she took her way across the hard stretch of finely-kept grass
which lay on the side of the house away from the wood. The green sward
lay like a sea, dotted with huge trees, singly, or in clumps as islands.
In its far-stretching stateliness there was something soothing. She came
back to the sound of the dressing-gong with a better strength to resist
the trial before her. Well she knew her aunt would have something to say
on the subject of her interference in Leonard Everard's affairs.

Her fears were justified, for when they had come into the drawing-room
after dinner Miss Rowly began:

'Stephen dear, is it not unwise of you to interfere in Mr. Everard's
affairs?'

'Why unwise, Auntie?'

'Well, my dear, the world is censorious. And when a young lady, of your
position and your wealth, takes a part in a young man's affairs tongues
are apt to wag. And also, dear, debts, young men's debts, are hardly the
subjects for a girl's investigation. Remember, that we ladies live very
different lives from men; from some men, I should say, for your dear
father was the best of men, and I should think that in all his life there
was nothing which he would have wished concealed. But, my dear, young
men are less restrained in their ways than we are, than we have to be for
our own safety and protection.' The poor lady was greatly perturbed at
having to speak in such a way. Stephen saw her distress; coming over to
her, she sat down and took her hand. Stephen had a very tender side to
her nature, and she loved very truly the dear old lady who had taken her
mother's place and had shown her all a mother's love. Now, in her
loneliness and woe and fear, she clung to her in spirit. She would have
liked to have clung to her physically; to have laid her head on her
bosom, and have cried her heart out. The time for tears had not come.
Hourly she felt more and more the weight that a shameful secret is to
carry. She knew, however, that she could set her aunt's mind at rest on
the present subject; so she said:

'I think you are right, Auntie dear. It would have been better if I had
asked you first; but I saw that Leonard was in distress, and wormed the
cause of it from him. When I heard that it was only debt I offered to
help him. He is an old friend, you know, Auntie. We