t of it in Calne,
thinking I'd get to Hartledon early next morning before his lordship had
time to go out; and I was sitting comfortably with a pipe and a glass of
beer, when news came of the accident."

Lord Hartledon believed the man to be telling the truth; and a
weight--the source of which he did not stay to analyse--was lifted from
his mind. But he asked another question.

"Why are you still in Calne?"

"I waited for orders. After his lordship died I couldn't go away without
them--carrying with me nothing but the word of a dead man. The orders
came this morning, safe enough; but I had the summons served on me then
to attend the inquest, and had to stay for it. I'm going away now, my
lord, by the first train."

Lord Hartledon was satisfied, and nodded his head. As he turned back he
met Dr. Ashton.

"I was looking for you, Lord Hartledon. If you require any assistance or
information in the various arrangements that now devolve upon you, I
shall be happy to render both. There will be a good deal to do one way or
another; more, I dare say, than your inexperience has the least idea of.
You will have your solicitor at hand, of course; but if you want me, you
know where to find me."

The Rector's words were courteous, but the tone was not warm, and the
title "Lord Hartledon" grated on Val's ear. In his impulse he grasped the
speaker's hand, pouring forth a heartfelt prayer.

"Oh, Dr. Ashton, will you not forgive me? The horrible trouble I brought
upon myself is over now. I don't rejoice in it under the circumstances,
Heaven knows; I only speak of the fact. Let me come to your house again!
Forgive me for the past."

"In one sense the trouble is over, because the debts that were a
formidable embarrassment to Mr. Elster are as nothing to Lord Hartledon,"
was the reply. "But let me assure you of one thing: that your being Lord
Hartledon will not make the slightest difference to my decision not to
give you my daughter, unless your line of conduct shall change."

"It is changed. Dr. Ashton, on my word of honour, I will never be guilty
of carelessness again. One thing will be my safeguard, though all else
should fail--the fact that I passed my word for this to my dear brother
not many hours before his death. For my sake, for Anne's sake, you will
forgive me!"

Was it possible to resist the persuasive tones, the earnestness of the
honest, dark-blue eyes? If ever Percival Elster was to make an effort for
good, and suc