further, "give me leave, pray you, to speak a word, which I
desire to say quickly, and you can resume your questioning of Pandora at
after. I think to return home Thursday shall be a se'nnight; and, your
leave granted, I would fain carry Pan with me. Methinks this air is not
entirely wholesome for her at this time; and unless I err greatly, it
should maybe save her some troublement if she tarried with me a season.
I pray you, consider of the same, and let me know your mind thereon as
early as may stand with your conveniency: and reckon me not tedious if I
urge you yet again not to debar the same without right good reason. I
fear somewhat for the child, without she can change the air, and that
right soon."

Pandora listened in astonishment. She was quite unconscious of bodily
ailment, either present or likely to come. What could Aunt Frances
mean? But Mr Roberts saw, what Pandora did not, a very significant
look in his sister's eyes, which said, more plainly than her words, that
danger of some kind lay in wait for her niece if she remained in Kent,
and was to be expected soon. He fidgeted up and down the room for a
moment, played nervously with an alms-dish on the side-board, took up
Cicero's Orations and laid it down again, and at last said, in a tone
which indicated relief from vexation--

"Well, well! Be it so, if you will. Make thee ready, then, child, to
go with thine aunt. Doth Grena know your desire, Frank?"

"Grena and I have taken counsel," replied Mrs Collenwood, "and this is
her avisement no less than mine."

"Settle it so, then. I thank you, Frank, for your care for the maid.
When shall she return?"

"It were better to leave that for time to come. But, Thomas, I go about
to ask a favour of you more."

"Go to! what is it?"

"That you will not name to any man Pandora's journey with me. Not to
any man," repeated Mrs Collenwood, with a stress on the last two words.

Mr Roberts looked at her. Her eyes conveyed serious warning. He knew
as well as if she had shouted the words in his ears that the real
translation of her request was, "Do not tell the priest." But it was
not safe to say it. Wherever there are Romish priests, there must be
silent looks and tacit hints and unspoken understandings.

"Very good, Frances," he said: "I will give no man to wit thereof."

"I thank you right heartily, Tom. Should Dorrie abide here for your
further satisfying, or may she go with me?"

"Go with yo