mpression that he could
not speak English, though as a matter of fact his English was purer
than her own.

Presently a pretty little woman, leading a baby by the hand, came up
to her.

"Pray, do you want anything? I am the wife of the manager."

"Yes, ma'am. I want a little information--at least, there's another
that does. Did you ever happen to hear of a Mr. Heigham?"

"Mr. Heigham? Indeed, yes; I know him well. He was here a few minutes
since."

"Then perhaps, ma'am, you can tell me if he is married to a Mrs. Carr
that lives on this island?"

"Not that I know of," she answered, with a little smile; "but there is
a good deal of talk about them--people say that, though they are not
married, they ought to be, you know."

"That's the best bit of news I have heard for many a day. As for the
talk, I don't pay no manner of heed to that. If he ain't married to
her, he won't marry her now, I'll go bail. Thank you kindly, ma'am."

At that moment they were interrupted by the entrance of a little
ragged boy into the hall, who timidly held out a card to the lady to
whom Pigott was talking.

"Do you want to find Mr. Heigham?" she said. "Because if so, this boy
will show you where he is. He has sent here for a paper that he left.
I found it on the verandah just now, and wondered what it was. Perhaps
you would take it to him if you go. I don't like trusting this boy--as
likely as not he will lose it."

"That will just suit. Just you tell the boy to wait while I fetch my
young lady, and we will go with him. Is this the paper? And in her
writing, too! Well, I never! There, I'll be back in no time."

Pigott went upstairs far too rapidly for a person of her size and
years, with the result that when she reached their room, where Angela
was waiting half dead with suspense, she could only gasp.

"Well," said Angela, "be quick and tell me."

"Oh, Lord! them stairs!" gasped Pigott.

"For pity's sake, tell me the worst!"

"Now, miss, _do_ give a body time, and don't be a fool--begging pardon
for----"

"Oh, Pigott, you are torturing me!"

"Well, miss, you muddle me so--but I am coming to it. I went down them
dratted stairs, and there I see a wonderful nice-looking party with a
baby."

"For God's sake tell me--_is Arthur married?_"

"Why, no, dearie--of course not. I was just a-going to say----"

But whatever valuable remark Pigott was going to make was lost to the
world for ever, for Angela flung her arms round her ne