y one
who with me felt it must be right, and he often cheered me by
assurances of his speedy return.

'It is most likely money matters,' he said one day to me; 'I know a
good deal of his income is in some funds in New York. He has some
cousin in business there, who manages things for him.'

And this was the most likely solution I could obtain. But why did he
not write? As time went on I grew more and more anxious. I said very
little to any one, and tried to be cheerful, and go on with my daily
life as before, but it was a hard matter.

I could not bring myself to touch my violin. That last evening rose up
before me, and the dim foreboding of evil that had so overshadowed me.
I felt a strange shrinking from the very thing that used to be such a
comfort and delight to me.

One afternoon I was startled by a message being brought to me by Miss
Rayner's old coachman, saying she was ill and wanted to see me. Mrs.
Forsyth had gone up to London for a fortnight, so I went at once to my
guardian.

'Helen ill!' he exclaimed. 'I should not think she has had a day's
illness in her life. What is the matter with her?'

'John says she fell into the river trying to ford it riding, and did
not change her wet things. He says she got a violent chill last week,
and has had a great deal of fever. This is her note to me.'

I gave him a little slip of paper, on which was scrawled, in letters
very unlike Miss Rayner's usually firm hand:--

'DEAR HILDA,--

'I am ill. Will you come and help Susan to nurse me?

'Yours affectionately,
'HELEN RAYNER.'

General Forsyth gave his consent to my going, and I returned that
afternoon with John, who was full of garrulous accounts of Miss
Rayner's illness. He wound up with saying,--

'And h'it's just my doing that hi'm taking you back. I said to Susan
this morning,--I won't be a party to hiding h'it h'any longer. I'll go
straight over to the general's and get some one to come h'and see to
her while she's yet h'alive, and you may tell the mistress that hi'm
doing it. So Susan she sees hi'm not to be trifled with, h'and she
tells Miss Helen, h'and she sends this note for you. You will find her
very h'ill, miss. She's been at death's door, h'and she's not turned
the corner yet!'

The house was very still when we entered it. Even the dogs seemed to
know something was the matter, for there was no bounding forward and
barking when I appeared; they only crept up to me, and