silence for many
minutes. Stephen then paused, and lightly put his hand within Knight's
arm.

'I wonder how she came to die,' he said in a broken whisper. 'Shall we
return and learn a little more?'

They turned back again, and entering Endelstow a second time, came to a
door which was standing open. It was that of an inn called the Welcome
Home, and the house appeared to have been recently repaired and entirely
modernized. The name too was not that of the same landlord as formerly,
but Martin Cannister's.

Knight and Smith entered. The inn was quite silent, and they followed
the passage till they reached the kitchen, where a huge fire was
burning, which roared up the chimney, and sent over the floor, ceiling,
and newly-whitened walls a glare so intense as to make the candle quite
a secondary light. A woman in a white apron and black gown was standing
there alone behind a cleanly-scrubbed deal table. Stephen first, and
Knight afterwards, recognized her as Unity, who had been parlour-maid at
the vicarage and young lady's-maid at the Crags.

'Unity,' said Stephen softly, 'don't you know me?'

She looked inquiringly a moment, and her face cleared up.

'Mr. Smith--ay, that it is!' she said. 'And that's Mr. Knight. I beg you
to sit down. Perhaps you know that since I saw you last I have married
Martin Cannister.'

'How long have you been married?'

'About five months. We were married the same day that my dear Miss Elfie
became Lady Luxellian.' Tears appeared in Unity's eyes, and filled them,
and fell down her cheek, in spite of efforts to the contrary.

The pain of the two men in resolutely controlling themselves when thus
exampled to admit relief of the same kind was distressing. They both
turned their backs and walked a few steps away.

Then Unity said, 'Will you go into the parlour, gentlemen?'

'Let us stay here with her,' Knight whispered, and turning said, 'No; we
will sit here. We want to rest and dry ourselves here for a time, if you
please.'

That evening the sorrowing friends sat with their hostess beside the
large fire, Knight in the recess formed by the chimney breast, where he
was in shade. And by showing a little confidence they won hers, and
she told them what they had stayed to hear--the latter history of poor
Elfride.

'One day--after you, Mr. Knight, left us for the last time--she was
missed from the Crags, and her father went after her, and brought her
home ill. Where she went to, I never k