. His resolve gave him a night of quiet rest.

CHAPTER XIX

Again Irene was going down into Cheshire, to visit the two old ladies,
her relatives. It was arranged that she should accompany Mrs. Hannaford
to Malvern, and spend a couple of days there. The travellers arrived on
a Friday evening. Before leaving town Mrs. Hannaford had written to
Piers Otway to give him the address of the house at Malvern in which
rooms had been taken for them.

On Saturday morning there was sunshine over the hills. Irene walked,
and talked, but it was evident with thoughts elsewhere. When they sat
down to rest and to enjoy the landscape before them, the rich heart of
England, with its names that echo in history and in song, Irene plucked
at the grass beside her, and presently began to strip a stem, after the
manner of children playing at a tell-fortune game. She stripped it to
the end; her hands fell and she heaved a little sigh. From that moment
she grew merry and talked without pre-occupation.

After lunch she wrote a short letter, and herself took it to the post.
Mrs. Hannaford was lying on the sofa, with eyes closed, but not in
sleep; her forehead and lips betraying the restless thoughts which
beset her now as always. On returning, Irene took a chair, as if to
read; but she gave only an absent glance at the paper in her hands, and
smiled to herself in musing.

"I'm sure those thoughts are worth far more than a penny," fell from
the lady on the couch, who had observed her for a moment.

"I may as well tell you them," was the gently toned reply, as Irene
bent forward. "I have just done something decisive."

Mrs. Hannaford raised herself, a sudden anxiety in her features; she
waited.

"You guess, aunt? Yes, that's it, I have written to Mr. Jacks."

"To--to----?"

"To answer an ultimatum. In the right way, I hope; any way, it's done."

"You have accepted him?"

"Even so."

Mrs. Hannaford tried to smile, but could not smooth away the uneasiness
which had come into her look. She spoke a few of the natural words, and
in doing so looked at the clock.

"There is something I have forgotten," she said, starting to her feet
hurriedly. "You reminded me of it--speaking of a letter; I must send a
telegram at once--indeed I must. No, no, I will go myself, dear. I had
rather!"

She hastened away, leaving Irene in wonder.

When they were together again, Mrs. Hannaford seemed anxious to atone
for her brevity on the all-important