r your name on the wall downstairs, forgetting that you are
Moncharmont & Co."

"It is very, very kind of you to have taken all this trouble!"

He saw in her face the signs of ill-health for which he was prepared,
and noticed with pain her tremulousness and shortness of breath after
the stair-climbing. The friendship which had existed between them since
his boyhood was true and deep as ever; Piers Otway could, as few men
can, be the loyal friend of a woman. A reverent tenderness coloured his
feeling towards Mrs. Hannaford; it was something like what he would
have felt for his mother had she now been living. He did not give much
thought to her character or circumstances; she had always been kind to
him, and he in turn had always liked her: that was enough. Anything in
her service that might fall within his power to do, he would do right
gladly.

"So you saw poor Olga?"

"Yes, and the friend she lives with--and Mr. Kite."

"Ah! Mr. Kite!" The speaker's face brightened. "I have news about him;
it came this morning. He has gone to Paris, and means to stay there."

"Indeed! I heard no syllable of that the other day."

"But it is true. And Olga's letter to me, in which she mentions it;
gives hope that that is the end of their engagement. Naturally, the
poor child won't say it in so many words, but it is to be read between
the lines. What's more, she is willing to come for her holiday with me!
It has made me very happy!--I told you I was going to Malvern; my
brother thinks that is most likely to do me good. Irene will go down
with me, and stay a day or two, and then I hope to have Olga. It is
delightful! I hadn't dared to hope. Perhaps we shall really come
together again, after this dreary time!"

Piers was listening, but with a look which had become uneasily
preoccupied.

"I am as glad, almost, as you can be," he said. "Malvern, I never was
there."

"So healthy, my brother says! And Shakespeare's country, you know; we
shall go to Stratford, which I have never seen. I have a feeling that I
really shall get better. Everything is more hopeful."

Piers recalled Olga's mysterious hints about her mother. Glancing at
the worn face, with its vivid eyes, he could easily conceive that this
ill-health had its cause in some grave mental trouble.

"Have you met your brother?" she asked.

"My brother? Oh no!" was the careless reply. Then on a sudden thought,
Piers added, "You don't keep up your acquaintance with him, do you