and
contradictory.

She spoke again of her sister, returning to the main point upon which
she had sought the interview. She was a decidedly attractive woman,
with a face rendered more interesting by her widow's garb.

But why was she masquerading so cleverly? For what reason had old
Courtenay contrived to efface his identity so thoroughly? As I looked
at her, mourning for a man who was alive and well, I utterly failed to
comprehend one single fact of the astounding affair. It staggered
belief!

"Let me speak candidly to you, Ralph," she said, after we had been
discussing Ethelwynn for some little time. "As you may readily
imagine, I have my sister's welfare very much at heart, and my only
desire is to see her happy and comfortable, instead of pining in
melancholy as she now is. I ask you frankly, have you quarrelled?"

"No, we have not," I answered promptly.

"Then if you have not, your neglect is all the more remarkable," she
said. "Forgive me for speaking like this, but our intimate
acquaintanceship in the past gives me a kind of prerogative to speak
my mind. You won't be offended, will you?" she asked, with one of
those sweet smiles of hers that I knew so well.

"Offended? Certainly not, Mrs. Courtenay. We are too old friends for
that."

"Then take my advice and see Ethelwynn again," she urged. "I know how
she adores you; I know how your coldness has crushed all the life out
of her. She hides her secret from mother, and for that reason will not
come down to Neneford. See her, and return to her; for it is a
thousand pities that two lives should be wrecked so completely by some
little misunderstanding which will probably be explained away in a
dozen words. You may consider this appeal an extraordinary one, made
by one sister on behalf of another, but when I tell you that I have
not consulted Ethelwynn, nor does she know that I am here on her
behalf, you will readily understand that I have both your interests
equally at heart. To me it seems a grievous thing that you should be
placed apart in this manner; that the strong love you bear each other
should be crushed, and your future happiness be sacrificed. Tell me
plainly," she asked in earnestness. "You love her still--don't you?"

"I do," was my frank, outspoken answer, and it was the honest truth.

CHAPTER XXII.

A MESSAGE.

The pretty woman in her widow's weeds stirred slightly and settled her
skirts, as though my answer had given her the greate