e fact pointed out
to her by Mrs. Finn, that the people at the post-office would thus
know her secret. "It is no secret," she said. "I don't want it to be
a secret." The telegram went in the following words: "I have heard
it. I am so wretched. Send me one word to say how you are." She got
an answer back, with Tregear's own name to it, on that afternoon. "Do
not be unhappy. I am doing well. Silverbridge is with me."

On the Thursday Gerald came home from Scotland. He had arranged
his little affair with Lord Percival, not however without some
difficulty. Lord Percival had declared he did not understand I.O.U.'s
in an affair of that kind. He had always thought that gentlemen did
not play for stakes which they could not pay at once. This was not
said to Gerald himself;--or the result would have been calamitous.
Nidderdale was the go-between, and at last arranged it,--not however
till he had pointed out that Percival, having won so large a sum of
money from a lad under twenty-one years of age, was very lucky in
receiving substantial security for its payment.

Gerald had chosen the period of his father's absence for his return.
It was necessary that the story of the gambling debt should be told
the Duke in February. Silverbridge had explained that to him, and
he had quite understood it. He, indeed, would be up at Oxford in
February, and, in that case, the first horror of the thing would be
left to poor Silverbridge! Thinking of this, Gerald felt that he was
bound to tell his father himself. He resolved that he would do so,
but was anxious to postpone the evil day. He lingered therefore in
Scotland till he knew that his father was in Barsetshire.

On his arrival he was told of Tregear's accident. "Oh, Gerald; have
you heard?" said his sister. He had not as yet heard, and then the
history was repeated to him. Mary did not attempt to conceal her own
feelings. She was as open with her brother as she had been with Mrs.
Finn.

"I suppose he'll get over it," said Gerald.

"Is that all you say?" she asked.

"What can I say better? I suppose he will. Fellows always do get over
that kind of thing. Herbert de Burgh smashed both his thighs, and now
he can move about again,--of course with crutches."

"Gerald! How can you be so unfeeling!"

"I don't know what you mean. I always liked Tregear, and I am very
sorry for him. If you would take it a little quieter, I think it
would be better."

"I could not take it quietly. How can