a check to pay
her traveling expenses. She would tell Mr. Fabian this as a mere item of
news, expressing no opinion and taking no responsibility, but leaving
her uncle to act as he might think proper.

She could not tell her brother Sylvan of that secret interview, for she
was sure that he would act with haste and indiscretion. Nor could she
tell her Uncle Clarence, who would only find himself distressed and
incapable under the emergency. Least of all could she tell her
grandfather, and make an everlasting breach between himself and his son
Fabian.

No. She could tell no one of that secret interview to which she had been
a chance witness--a shocked witness--but which she only half understood,
and which, perhaps, did not mean all that she had feared and suspected.
On that subject she must hold her peace, and only let the absent members
of the family know of Mrs. Stillwater's intended visit as an item of
domestic news, and leave any or all of them to act upon their own
responsibility unbiased by any word from her.

Cora's position was a very delicate and embarrassing one. She did not
believe that this former nursery governess of hers was or ever had been
a proper companion for her. She herself--Cora Rothsay--was now a widow
with an independent income, and was at liberty to choose her own
companions and make her home wherever she might choose.

But how could she leave her aged and widowed grandfather, who had no
other daughter or granddaughter, or any other woman relative to keep
house for him? And yet how could she associate daily with a woman whose
presence she felt to be a degradation?

As we have seen, she knew and felt that it would be vain to oppose her
grandfather's wish to have Mrs. Stillwater in the house, especially as
he had already invited her and sent her the money to come--unless she
should tell him of that secret interview she had witnessed between Mr.
Fabian and Mrs. Stillwater. That, indeed, might banish Rose from
Rockhold, but it would also bring down a domestic cataclysm that must
break up the household and separate its members.

No, she could say nothing, do nothing that would not make matters worse.
She must let events take their course, bide her time and hope for the
best, she said to herself, as she arose and rang the bell.

John, the footman, answered the call.

"It is Martha whom I want. Send her here," said the lady.

The man went out and the upper housemaid came in.

"You wanted me, m