ear spectacles. Yes, I'm glad, for I've rather taken a fancy to you. I
like healthy young things, and you look as if you were a part of the
morning. Sounds like poetry out of one of your wretched books."

"And now," said Celia, after a while, "I must be going, Lady
Gridborough. I have been away quite a long time."

"You must come again," said the old lady.

"Do you think," said Celia, hesitatingly, as she slipped on her jacket,
"that the young woman, Susie, as you call her, would let me go to see
her sometimes? I should like to."

"Yes, my dear," said her ladyship, with a nod which showed she was
pleased. "Go and see her, by all means. You're a girl of about her own
age, and she may open her heart to you. A sad business--a sad business,"
she murmured. "And what makes it more sad for me is that I knew the
young man."

She paused and appeared as if she were hesitating, then she said:

"Look here, my dear, it's scarcely a story for your ears; but I've no
doubt it will come to them sooner or later, and so I may as well tell
you. This place, where I have another house, where Susie Morton lived is
called Bridgeford. She was in service with me, and a young gentleman who
lodged in the village--he was studying engineering--made her
acquaintance. I suspected nothing. Indeed, he was supposed to be in love
with the daughter of the rector, Miriam Ainsley. I thought it was going
to be a match, but they were both poor, and the girl suddenly married a
young nobleman, a man I disliked very much, a wastrel and a
ne'er-do-well. But there were stories about this other young man who was
supposed to be in love with her, and perhaps they came to her ears, and
drove her to the other man, though it was a case of out of the
frying-pan into the fire. The young engineer left the place suddenly,
and disappeared, and everybody attributed poor Susie's downfall to him."

There was silence for a moment, then she went on musingly:

"Strange how even the most timid of our sex can display firmness and
determination when they have made up their minds to do so. Though Susie
has been implored to disclose his name, she has refused to do so. Those
childish little lips of hers close tightly whenever one approaches the
subject, and she has absolutely refused to say one word that would lead
to a clue."

"Perhaps--perhaps the young man was not guilty after all," said Celia.

Lady Gridborough shook her head.

"I'm afraid he was, my dear," she said, with