eally, I must go now."

Mrs Ellis said meekly, "Must you, Mr Barnett?" and held out her hand
promptly.

He shook hands with her quite affectionately, and then turned to Mary,
who let him take her hand more than gave it, and he sighed as he said
"Good-night."

"You'll think about the gravel, Mr Ellis?" he said to his host. "I
want that garden to look better than any one in the county."

"Yes, you shall have it, Barnett, first time I can spare the horses at
the farm. And I'll go down to the gate with you." They walked not only
to the gate, but a couple of hundred yards towards the gardens before
either spoke, and then just as Barnett was congratulating himself upon
how well he had got on at the cottage that night, Ellis turned to him
sharply.

"I told Mrs Mostyn about John Grange having gone away so suddenly."

"Did you, sir? What did she say?"

"That she didn't want to hear his name mentioned again, for she had been
disappointed in the man."

"Poor chap!" said Barnett sadly.

"Yes, poor chap!" said Ellis hastily. "For Heaven's sake don't ever
hint at such a thing at home, Daniel, but I've a horrible thought of
something being wrong about that poor fellow. You don't think that,
quite out of heart and in despair like, he has gone and done anything
rash, do you?"

"Well, Mr Ellis, I didn't like to hint at such a thing to any one, but
as you do think like that, and as old Tummus and his wife seem to be
quite suspicious like, it did set me thinking, and I've felt sometimes
that he must have walked two miles the other night to the river, and
then gone in."

"By accident?" said Ellis quietly, "in his blindness."

"Ah!" said Barnett solemnly, "that's more than I can tell."

"Or must tell," said Ellis excitedly. "It mustn't even be breathed, Dan
Barnett. If my Mary even heard it whispered, she'd go melancholy mad."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"Nay, sir, I don't know any more about it, and I arn't a-going to say
nowt about it, but if that there poor bairn--"

"What poor bairn?" said James Ellis angrily, as he stood in the
keeping-room of old Tummus's cottage. "I was asking you about John
Grange."

"Well, I know you were. Arn't he quite a bairn to me?"

"Please don't be cross with him, Mr Ellis, sir," said old Hannah
respectfully; "it's only his way, sir."

"Very well, let him go on," cried James Ellis testily.

"Just you keep your spoon out o' the broth, mother," grumbled old
Tummus, "I know what I