the door to them--had never
seen before. They sat together in the drawing-room for more than
an hour; then the well-dressed gentleman took his leave, the others
remaining for some time longer.

The promoted servant, at Mr. Lord's bidding, had made a change in her
dress; during the latter part of the day she presented the appearance
of a gentlewoman, and sat, generally with needlework, sometimes with
a book, alone in the dining-room. On a Sunday, whilst Nancy and
her brother were away, the Barmby family--father, son, and two
daughters--came to take tea and spend the evening, Mary doing the
honours of the house; she bore herself without awkwardness, talked
simply, and altogether justified Mr. Lord's opinion of her. When the
guests were gone, Stephen made no remark, but, in saying good-night to
her, smiled for an instant--the first smile seen upon his face for many
days.

Mary remained ignorant of the disease from which he was suffering;
in the matter of his diet, she consulted and obeyed him, though often
enough it seemed to her that his choice suited little with the state of
an invalid. He ate at irregular times, and frequently like a starving
man. Mary suspected that, on the occasions when he went out for
half-an-hour after dark, he brought back food with him: she had seen him
enter with something concealed beneath his coat. All his doings were to
her a subject of ceaseless anxiety, of a profound distress which, in
his presence, she was obliged to conceal. If she regarded him sadly,
the sufferer grew petulant or irate. He would not endure a question
concerning his health.

On the day which was understood to be Nancy's last at Teignmouth, he
brightened a little, and talked with pleasure, as it seemed, of her
return on the morrow. Horace had written that he would be home this
evening, but Mr. Lord spoke only of his daughter. At about six o'clock
he was sitting in the garden, and Mary brought him a letter just
delivered; he looked at the envelope with a smile.

'To tell us the train she's coming by, no doubt.'

Mary waited. When Mr. Lord had read the brief note, his face darkened,
first with disappointment, then with anger.

'Here, look at it,' he said harshly. 'What else was to be expected?'

'Dearest Father,' wrote Nancy, 'I am sorry that our return must be put
off; we hope to get back on Friday evening. Of course this will make no
difference to you.--With best love, dear father, and hoping I shall find
you muc