"And that's not much; but I am glad to see you so far well," said
Hartledon, in his usual kindly tone. "I have heard reports of you from
Mr. Hillary."

"Your lordship's altered too."

"Am I?"

"Well, it seems so to me. But it's some few years now since I saw you.
Nothing has ever come to light about that pocket-book, my lord."

"I conclude not, or I should have heard of it."

"And your lordship never came down to see the place!"

"No. I left Hartledon the same day, I think, or the next. After all,
Floyd, I don't see that it is of any use looking into these painful
things: it cannot bring the dead to life again."

"That's, true," said the miller.

He was walking into Calne. Lord Hartledon kept by his side, talking to
him. He promised to be as popular a man as his father had been; and that
was saying a great deal. When they came opposite the Rectory, Lord
Hartledon wished him good day and more strength, in his genial manner,
and turned in at the Rectory gates.

About once a week he was in the habit of calling upon Mrs. Ashton. Peace
was between them; and these visits to her sick-chamber were strangely
welcome to her heart. She had loved Val Elster all her life, and she
loved him still, in spite of the past. For Val was curiously subdued; and
his present mood, sad, quiet, thoughtful, was more endearing than his
gayer one had been. Mrs. Ashton did not fail to read that he was a
disappointed man, one with some constant care upon him.

Anne was in the hall when he entered, talking to a poor applicant who was
waiting to see the Rector. Lord Hartledon lifted his hat to her, but did
not offer to shake hands. He had never presumed to touch her hand since
the reconciliation; in fact, he scarcely ever saw her.

"How is Mrs. Ashton to-day?"

"A little better, I think. She will be glad to see you."

He followed the servant upstairs, and Anne turned to the woman again.
Mrs. Ashton was in an easy-chair near the window; he drew one close to
her.

"You are looking wonderful to-day, do you know?" he began in tones almost
as gay as those of the light-hearted Val Elster. "What is it? That very
becoming cap?"

"The cap, of course. Don't you see its pink ribbons? Your favourite
colour used to be pink, Val. Do you remember?"

"I remember everything. But indeed and in truth you look better, dear
Mrs. Ashton."

"Yes, better to-day," she said, with a sigh. "I shall fluctuate to the
end, I suppose; one day better, the next wo