probably ever write to her. He decided that he would send it
over by Pottinger, whom he knew he could trust not only to deliver the
letter, but to refrain from telling anyone that he had been sent with
it. He put it in the pocket of his shooting-coat and went downstairs,
intending to go straight to the stables to find Pottinger; but as he
went through the hall, Murray, the secretary, came out of the library,
and Sir Stephen caught sight of Stafford through the open door, and
called to him. Stafford went in, and his father rose from the table on
which was already piled a heap of letters and papers, and taking
Stafford's hand, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You are early, my boy," he said. "I did not expect to see you for
hours yet; couldn't you sleep? You look rather tired, Stafford; you
were late last night, and--ah, well! there was some excuse for a little
excitement and exaltation."

He smiled whimsically, as a father does at a son who has for once gone
beyond the strict bounds of moderation and looked upon the wine cup too
often.

"Yes, I've rather a head on this morning, sir," said Stafford, quietly,
accepting the suggestion as an excuse for his ill-looks. "I drank and
smoked, last night, more than I usually do. You look as fresh as usual,
sir," he added, with unconscious irony.

Sir Stephen threw up his head with a short laugh.

"Oh, my work wasn't finished last night, my dear boy!" he said. "And
Murray and I have been at it since seven o'clock. I want to put some of
these papers straight before Griffenberg and the rest leave to-day."

"They are going to-day?" said Stafford.

"Oh, yes; there will be a general exodus. A great many of the people
were only staying on until we could be sure we had pulled this railway
scheme through. Falconer and his daughter--I beg your pardon, my dear
Stafford, I mean Maude!--talk of going to-day. But I persuaded them to
stay until to-morrow. I thought you would like to go to London with
them."

He smiled as a father smiles when he is planning a pleasure for his
son.

"Yes, I should like it," said Stafford, quietly. "But could I leave you
here?"

"Oh, yes," said Sir Stephen. "They'll entertain themselves. Besides, it
was an understood thing you should be free to go and come as you
pleased. Of course, you would like to go with Maude."

"Of course," echoed Stafford, his eyes on the ground. As he was leaving
the room his father took a letter from the table, held it up and