ty.
It set Lady Hartledon wondering; and she resolved to "bide her time."

"As you please, of course, Val. But why should it agitate you?"

"Many a little thing seems to agitate me now," he answered. "I have not
felt well of late; perhaps that's the reason."

"I think you might have satisfied me a little better. I expect it is some
enormous debt risen up against you."

Better she should think so! "I shall tide it over," he said aloud. "But
indeed, Maude, I cannot bear for you delicate women to be brought into
contact with these things; they are fit for us only. Think no more about
it, and rely on me to keep trouble from you if it can be kept. Where's
Bob? He is here, I suppose?"

"Bob's in his room. He is going into a way, I think. When he wrote and
asked me if I would allow him to come here for a little change, the
medical men saying he must have it, mamma sent a refusal by return of
post; she had had enough of Bob, she said, when he was here before. But
I quietly wrote a note myself, and Bob came. He looked ill, and gets
worse instead of better."

"What do you mean by saying he is going into a way?" asked Lord
Hartledon.

"Consumption, or something of that sort. Papa died of it. You are not
angry with me for having Bob?"

"Angry! My dear Maude, the house is yours; and if poor Bob stayed with us
for ever, I should welcome him as a brother. Every one likes Bob."

"Except mamma. She does not like invalids in the house, and has been
saying you don't like it; that it was helping to keep you away. Poor Bob
had out his portmanteau and began to pack; but I told him not to mind
her; he was my guest, not hers."

"And mine also, you might have added."

He left the room, and went to the chamber Captain Kirton had occupied
when he was at Hartledon in the spring. It was empty, evidently not being
used; and Hartledon sent for Mirrable. She came, looking just as usual,
wearing a dark-green silk gown; for the twelve-month had expired, and
their mourning was over.

"Captain Kirton is in the small blue rooms facing south, my lord. They
were warmer for him than these."

"Is he very ill, Mirrable?"

"Very, I think," was the answer. "Of course he may get better; but it
does not look like it."

He was a tall, thin, handsome man, this young officer--a year or two
older than Maude, whom he greatly resembled. Seated before a table, he
was playing at that delectable game "solitaire;" and his eyes looked
large and wild with s