s so much
that I want to say."

"I think I can take him off your hands," replied Elizabeth; and then
she turned to Malcolm, though he noticed that she avoided looking at
him, and there was a curious abruptness in her manner that almost
amounted to awkwardness.

"Mr. Carlyon has sent you a message, Mr. Herrick. He thinks you will be
sure to call at the vicarage, and he would like you to look in at the
White Cottage as you pass. He says that he would be pleased to shake
hands with you."

There was no doubt that Malcolm was surprised. He unconsciously
stiffened.

"He is very kind," he said rather formally; "but of course I meant to
call, or at least leave my card--I had just told your sister so."

"Perhaps you had better call at the vicarage first," returned Elizabeth
hurriedly. "Mr. Carlyon is rarely out of his room before mid-day, and
all hours are alike to Mr. Charrington." And when Malcolm had gravely
agreed to do this, Elizabeth went upstairs to prepare for dinner, and
did not appear again until the gong sounded.

She did not forget her promise, however, of taking Cedric off Dinah's
hands, and as soon as they had finished their coffee she challenged him
to a game of chess in the inner drawing-room, where on cold nights a
second fire generally burned.

The rooms were so large that unless Dinah and Malcolm raised their
voices it was impossible to hear their conversation, and as Cedric had
his back to them he had no idea that they were talking more
confidentially than usual; but from Malcolm's position Elizabeth's face
stood out in full relief, and in spite of all his efforts his attention
often wandered.

Even in those few short weeks since they had last met he could see a
change in her. She had grown thinner and paler, and there was a
deepened sadness in her eyes; and yet in his opinion she had never
looked more lovely, though it was more the inward than outward
loveliness that he meant.

He noticed how mechanically she played, and how the game failed to
interest her. When Cedric checkmated her twice, she only rose with an
air of relief, as though she had finished a wearisome task, and came
towards them.

"I am cold," she said simply, as Dinah made room for her; "we nearly
let the fire out between us." But as she sat in her snug corner warming
her hands, she did not attempt to join in the conversation. Indeed, her
manner was so absent that Malcolm felt convinced that she heard little
of what they said, a