u must sell to somebody and will not get as good a
price."

Osborn got up and went out with a dragging step. The blow had left him
numb, but as he drove home in the rain he had a hazy notion that Hayes'
statements were to some extent justified. He had lived in false security;
seeing how things were going and yet refusing to believe. Somehow, it had
looked impossible for him to lose Tarnside. The estate was his by the
sacred right of inheritance; for a hundred years there had been an Osborn
at the Hall. Yet the estate had gone, and he was to blame. It had, so to
speak, melted in his careless hands. He felt old and broken when he told
his wife and daughter about the interview.

Mrs. Osborn did not look as much surprised as he had thought and Grace,
although sympathetic, was calm. They had known the blow was coming and
were ready for the shock. After a time, Osborn left them and Grace looked
at her mother.

"I must tell Kit."

"Yes," said Mrs. Osborn. "I think he ought to know, though this is not a
matter in which he can help."

"It looks like that," Grace agreed and then paused with a confident
smile. "But Kit's rather wonderful; you don't really know him yet. He
always finds a way when there is something hard to be done."

"Ah," said Mrs. Osborn, "there is comfort in our troubles since they have
given you a man you can trust."

Grace went to Ashness and found Kit studying some accounts in the room
she called his museum.

"Put the books away, come to the fire and talk to me," said Grace, and
stopped him when he moved a chair. "I think I'll take the low stool. It's
wretchedly cold and I really came to be comforted."

She sat down, leaning against his chair with her head turned so that she
could look up, and held her hands to the fire. Kit's heart beat, for
Grace had developed recently; her reserve had gone and a curious, frank
tenderness had come instead.

"This is very nice," she resumed. "There's something very homelike about
Ashness. Perhaps I'm romantic, but I sometimes feel as if your father was
still at the old house. It's kind and quiet--like him. Don't you think
people can leave an influence, Kit?"

"Yours will last. So far, I haven't had much quietness."

"I'm afraid I've come to bother you again. I hate to bother you, but
somehow trouble seems to follow me."

"Your troubles are mine," Kit said and stroked her head. "Tell me
about it."

Grace told him, and although he said nothing, waited calmly.