ty of the validity of the excuse, and, however unjust it may be,
one has known of men who have seen their defection energetically set
down to more vulgar causes.

Arthur was no exception to this rule. He found himself in a false
position, and he hated it. Indeed, he determined before long he would
place it before Mildred in the light of an alternative, that he should
either marry her, or that an end should be put to their existing
relations.

CHAPTER LXXIII

As the autumn came on, a great south-west gale burst over Madeira, and
went sweeping away up the Bay of Biscay. It blew for three days and
nights, and was one of the heaviest on record. When it first began,
the English mail was due; but when it passed there were still no signs
of her, and prophets of evil were not wanting who went to and fro
shaking their heads, and suggesting that she had probably foundered in
the Bay.

Two more days went by, and there were still no signs of her, though
the telegraph told them that she had left Southampton Docks at the
appointed time and date. By this time, people in Madeira could talk of
nothing else.

"Well, Arthur, no signs of the _Roman?_" said Mildred, on the fifth
day.

"No, the _Garth Castle_ is due in to-day. Perhaps she may have heard
something of her."

"Yes," said Miss Terry, absently; "she may have fallen in with some of
the wreckage."

"I must say that is a cheerful suggestion," answered Arthur. "She is
an awful old tub, and, I daresay, ran before the gale for Vigo, that
is all."

"Let us hope so," said Mildred, doubtfully. "What is it, John?"

"The housemaid wishes to speak to you, please, ma'am."

"Very good, I will come."

It has been hinted that Agatha Terry was looking absent on the morning
in question. There was a reason for it. For some time past there had
been growing up in the bosom of this excellent lady a consciousness
that things were not altogether as they should be. Miss Terry was not
clever, indeed it may be said that she was dense, but still she could
not but see that there was something odd in the relations between
Arthur and Mildred. For instance, it struck her as unusual that two
persons who were not married, nor even, so far as she knew, engaged,
should habitually call each other "dear," and even sometimes
"dearest."

But on the previous evening, when engaged in a search after that
species of beetle that loves the night, she chanced to come across t