at poor girl, Mrs. Mumford. It wasn't
her fault, not in any way. She didn't know I was coming; she hadn't
asked me to come. I'm entirely to blame.'

'You mean to say you knocked over the table by accident?'

'I did indeed. And I wish I'd been burnt myself instead of her.'

He had suffered, by the way, no inconsiderable scorching, to which
his hands would testify for many a week; but of this he was still
hardly aware. Emmeline, with a glance of uttermost scorn, left him,
and ascended to the room where the doctor was busy. Free to behave
as he thought fit, Mumford beckoned Cobb to follow him into the
front garden, where they conversed with masculine calm.

'I shall put up at Sutton for the night,' said Cobb, 'and perhaps
you'll let me call the first thing in the morning to ask how she
gets on.'

'Of course. We'll see the doctor when he comes down. But I wish I
could understand how you managed to throw the lamp down.'

'The truth is,' Cobb replied, 'we were quarrelling. I'd heard
something about her that made me wild, and I came and behaved like a
fool. I feel just now as if I could go and cut my throat, that's the
fact. If anything happens to her, I believe I shall. I might as
well, in any case; she'll never look at me again.'

'Oh, don't take such a dark view of it.'

The doctor came out, on his way to fetch certain requirements, and
the two men walked with him to his house in the next road. They
learned that Louise was not dangerously injured; her recovery would
be merely a matter of time and care. Cobb gave a description of the
fire, and his hearers marvelled that the results were no worse.

'You must have some burns too?' said the doctor, whose curiosity was
piqued by everything he saw and heard of the strange occurrence. 'I
thought so; those hands must be attended to.'

Meanwhile, Emmeline sat by the bedside and listened to the
hysterical lamentation in which Louise gave her own--the
true--account of the catastrophe. It was all her fault, and upon her
let all the blame fall. She would humble herself to Mr. Higgins and
get him to pay for the furniture destroyed. If Mrs. Mumford would
but forgive her! And so on, as her poor body agonised, and the blood
grew feverish in her veins.

CHAPTER IX

'Accept it? Certainly. Why should we bear the loss if he's able to
make it good? He seems to be very well off for an unmarried man.'

'Yes,' replied Mumford, 'but he's just going to marry, and it
seems--We