. Seeing her
master's consternation, Ruth was sore troubled, and hastened to explain
herself.

'My brother's wife has just died, sir, and left him with three young
children, and there's no one else can be of help to him but me. He
wanted me to come at once, but, of course, I told him I couldn't do
that. No one can be sorry for his wife's death; she was such a poor,
silly, complaining, useless creature; he hasn't had a quiet day since
he married her. She belonged to Liverpool, and there they were married,
and when he brought her to Carnarvon I said to myself as soon as I saw
her that _she_ wouldn't be much use to a working-man. She began the
very first day to complain and to grumble, and she's gone on with it
ever since. When I was there in my last holiday I really wondered how
he bore his life. There's many women of that kind, sir, but I never
knew one as bad as her--never. Everything was too much trouble for her,
and she didn't know how to do a thing in the house. I didn't mean to
trouble you with such things, sir. I only told you just to show why I
don't feel I can refuse to go and help him, and try to give him a
little peace and quiet. He's a hard-working man, and the children
aren't very healthy, and I'm sure I don't know how he'd manage----'

'You have no choice, Ruth, I see. Well, we must hope to find some one
in your place--_but_----'

Just as he shook his head, the house-bell rang, and Ruth withdrew to
answer it. In a minute or two the study door opened again. Harvey
looked up and saw Alma.

'I was obliged to come,' she said, approaching him, as he rose in
astonishment. 'I thought at first of asking you to come on to
Basingstoke, but we can talk better here.'

No sign of pleasure in their meeting passed between them. On Harvey's
face lingered something of the disturbance caused by Ruth's
communication, and Alma understood it as due to her unexpected arrival;
the smile with which she had entered died away, and she stood like a
stranger doubtful of her reception.

'Was it necessary to talk?' asked Rolfe, pushing forward a chair, and
doing his best to show good humour.

'Yes--after your reply to my letter this morning,' she answered coldly.

'Well, you must have some tea first. This is cold. Won't you go and
take your things off, and I'll tell Ruth. By-the-bye, we re in
confusion.'

He sketched the position of things; but Alma heard without interest.

'It can't be helped,' was her absent reply. 'There