"She would not have the courage to do that without her husband's
permission, and he will never give it."

"We'll see about that. Ah, the mill is not the only piece of property to
be sold!"

They had turned into a well-shaded avenue, to the massive stone
gate-pillars of which were attached posters similar to those at the
mill, only in this case it was "This valuable, desirable and palatial
residence," with the hundreds of acres of land attached, that were to be
knocked down by the auctioneer's hammer.

"I might have known," commented Stranleigh, "that if Mr. Anson was
bankrupt at his mill, he was also bankrupt at his house."

They drew up at the entrance. Stranleigh stepped down, and rang the
bell, Challis remaining in the car. Shown into the drawing-room, the
visitor was greeted by a sad-looking, elderly woman.

"Mrs. Anson," said the young man, very deferentially, "I expect your
forgiveness for this intrusion on my part when I say that I am here in
some sense as an ambassador from your daughter."

"From my daughter!" gasped the old lady in astonishment. "Is she well,
and where is she?"

"She is very well, I am glad to say, and is living with her husband over
in the village."

"In her last letter she said her husband was taking her to New York.
There had been a--misunderstanding." The old lady hesitated for a moment
before using that mild term. "On the day her letter was received, I went
to the hotel at which they were stopping, and was told by the landlord
they had gone, he did not know where. Do you tell me they have been
living in Altonville all the time?"

"I think so, but cannot be sure. I met Mr. and Mrs. Challis for the
first time only a week ago."

"I hope she is happy."

"She is," said Stranleigh confidently, "and before the day is done her
mother will be happy also."

Mrs. Anson shook her head. She was on the verge of tears, which
Stranleigh saw and dreaded. So he said hurriedly:

"You will select me what you think she should have at once, and I will
take the box or parcel to Altonville in my car."

"When at last her father saw that everything we possessed must be sold,"
rejoined Mrs. Anson, "he packed up in trunks what belonged to Gertrude,
and as we could not learn where to send them, Mr. Asa Perkins, a friend
of ours, who lives in Boston, lent us a room in which to store the
things, and they are there now."

"How odd!" exclaimed Stranleigh. "I met Mr. Perkins just before he left
his summ