ia, stopping short, her face lighting up. "No one
would be such a fool--least of all Sydney," she added, more to herself
than to him, "who is so clever."

"Exactly," said Mr. Clendon. "So you see, my child, you have nothing to
be alarmed about. Here is the Hall!" He looked up at the noble facade
with a curious expression in his face. "It is years since I have been
here," he added, musingly.

"You have been here before, you know the Marquess?" said Celia. "Yes,
you said so. How strange! Why, Mr. Clendon," she broke off, turning upon
him, with a flush of gratitude, "I see now, I see now! It was _you_ who
got me the place here. And I never guessed it! Oh, how good you have
been to me! And you hid it." Her hand pressed his.

The old man frowned slightly. "You have caught me, my dear," he said.
"It was a great pleasure to me to be of assistance to you. But we have
other things to think of," he added, as they passed up the steps into
the hall.

The butler met them, suppressing the astonishment he felt at sight of
the poorly-dressed old man in Miss Grant's company, suppressing it not
only from the instincts of a well-trained servant, but because he knew,
at a glance, that shabby as the bent figure was, the stranger was a
gentleman.

"My name is Clendon," said Mr. Clendon. "I am an old friend of Lord
Sutcombe's; and I have come down to inquire after him, to see him if it
is possible."

"Certainly, sir," said the butler; and he led the way to the
drawing-room. But Celia drew Mr. Clendon into the library.

"Stay with me here," she begged him. "I will go up to the Marquess's
room and see if he is well enough to be told that you are here. I fear
that you will not be able to see him. And you must have something to
eat," she said, with womanly consideration.

"Thank you, my dear, I need nothing," he said.

As he spoke, the door was opened, none too gently, and Heyton stood on
the threshold. He looked from Celia to the old man with what was
intended to be a stare of haughty surprise; but was, in reality, a kind
of sullen insolence.

"Oh? Who is this?" he demanded.

"A friend of your father's, Lord Heyton," said Mr. Clendon, before Celia
could speak. "So old and so dear a friend that he is warranted in
intruding, even at such a moment."

"Well, you are intruding, right enough, though you may be an old
friend," said Heyton, thickly. "My father is very ill, dangerously ill,
as you may have heard. This is no time for--for