Will," she wrote, "I can't keep secrets as long as you. This
is to inform you that a week ago I let The Haws, on annual tenancy, to
a friend of Mr. Turnbull's, who was looking for such a house. The day
after to-morrow we begin our removal to a home which Jane has taken
near to Miss Winter's in Suffolk. That she was able to find just what
we wanted at a moment's notice encourages me in thinking that
Providence is on our side, or, as your dear father used to say, that
the oracle has spoken. In a week's time I hope to send news that we are
settled. You are forbidden to come here before our departure, but will
be invited to the new home as soon as possible. The address is--" etc.

The same post brought a letter from Jane.

"Don't be alarmed by the news," she wrote. "Mother has been so firm in
this resolve since the day of your leaving us, that I could only obey
her. Wonderful and delightful to tell, she seems better in health. I
dare not make too much of this, after what Dr. Edge said, but for the
present she is certainly stronger. As you suppose, I am going to work
with Miss Winter. Come and see us when we are settled, and you shall
hear all our plans. Everything has been done so quickly, that I live in
a sort of a dream. Don't worry, and of course don't on any account
come."

These letters arrived in the evening, and, after reading them,
Warburton was so moved that he had to go out and walk under the starry
sky, in quiet streets. Of course the motive on which his mother had
acted was a desire to free him as soon as possible from the slavery of
the shop; but that slavery had now grown so supportable, that he
grieved over the sacrifice made for his sake. After all, would he not
have done better to live on with his secret? And yet--and yet--

CHAPTER 40

With curiosity which had in it a touch of amusement, Will was waiting
to hear from Norbert Franks. He waited for nearly a month, and was
beginning to feel rather hurt at his friend's neglect, perhaps a little
uneasy on another score, when there arrived an Italian postcard,
stamped Venice. "We have been tempted as far as this," ran the hurried
scrawl. "Must be home in ten days. Shall be delighted to see you
again." Warburton puckered his brows and wondered whether a previous
letter or card had failed to reach him. But probably not.

At the end of September, Franks wrote from his London address, briefly
but cordially, with an invitation to luncheon on the next da