han others, you are not going to look at me as though I were a
murderer!"

She drew a little breath, a breath of relief. Her hand fell upon his
arm.

"No!" she said. "I have been foolish. It is absurd to imagine that you
could have brought that about by just wishing for it."

"Why, even, should I have wished for it?" he asked. "Lord Guerdon was
a stranger to me. As an acquaintance I found him pleasant enough. I
had no grudge against him."

She drew him a little way on down the lane.

"I must only stay for a few minutes," she said. "If we walk down here
we shall meet nobody. Do you know what Mr. Rochester has suggested?"

"No!" Saton answered. "What?"

"He says that Lord Guerdon had always been uneasily conscious of
having seen you somewhere before. He says that at the very moment when
he was stricken down, he seemed to remember!"

"That does not seem to me to be important," Saton remarked.

"Can't you understand?" she continued. "Mr. Rochester seems to
think that Lord Guerdon had seen you somewhere under disgraceful
circumstances. There! I've got it out now," she added, with a wan
little smile. "That is why he feels sure that somehow or other you
did your best to help him toward death."

"And the others?" Saton asked.

"Oh, it hasn't been talked about!" she answered. "Everyone has left
the house, you know. I only knew this through Mary."

Saton smiled scornfully.

"My dear girl," he said, "I know for a fact that Lord Guerdon was
suffering from acute heart disease. He went about always with a letter
in his pocket giving directions as to what should become of him if he
were to die suddenly."

"Is that really true?" she asked. "Oh, I am glad! Lord Penarvon said
so, but no one else seemed sure."

"There is no need, even for an inquest," Saton continued. "I went to
see the doctor this morning, and he told me so. I am very, very
sorry," he went on, taking her hand in his, "that such a thing should
happen to spoil the memory of these few days. They have been wonderful
days, Lois."

She drew her hand quietly away.

"Yes!" she admitted. "They have been wonderful in many ways."

"For you," he continued, walking a little more slowly, and with his
hands clasped behind him, "they have been, perhaps, just a tiny little
leaf out of the book of your life. To me I fancy they have been
something different. You see I have been a wanderer all my days. I
have had no home, and I have had few friends. All the time I ha