g to tell me, Norah?"

"I have a thousand things to tell you, my love; and you have ten
thousand things to tell me.--Do you mean that second surprise which I
told you of in my letter?"

"Yes. I suppose it must concern me very nearly, or you would hardly have
thought of mentioning it in your first letter?"

"It does concern you very nearly. You have heard of George's house in
Essex? You must be familiar, at least, with the name of St. Crux?--What
is there to start at, my dear? I am afraid you are hardly strong enough
for any more surprises just yet?"

"Quite strong enough, Norah. I have something to say to you about St.
Crux--I have a surprise, on my side, for _you._"

"Will you tell it me now?"

"Not now. You shall know it when we are at the seaside; you shall know
it before I accept the kindness which has invited me to your husband's
house."

"What _can_ it be? Why not tell me at once?"

"You used often to set me the example of patience, Norah, in old times;
will you set me the example now?"

"With all my heart. Shall I return to my own story as well? Yes? Then we
will go back to it at once. I was telling you that St. Crux is George's
house, in Essex, the house he inherited from his uncle. Knowing that
Miss Garth had a curiosity to see the place, he left word (when he went
abroad after the admiral's death) that she and any friends who came
with her were to be admitted, if she happened to find herself in the
neighborhood during his absence. Miss Garth and I, and a large party of
Mr. Tyrrel's friends, found ourselves in the neighborhood not long after
George's departure. We had all been invited to see the launch of Mr.
Tyrrel's new yacht from the builder's yard at Wivenhoe, in Essex. When
the launch was over, the rest of the company returned to Colchester to
dine. Miss Garth and I contrived to get into the same carriage together,
with nobody but my two little pupils for our companions. We gave the
coachman his orders, and drove round by St. Crux. The moment Miss Garth
mentioned her name we were let in, and shown all over the house. I don't
know how to describe it to you. It is the most bewildering place I ever
saw in my life--"

"Don't attempt to describe it, Norah. Go on with your story instead."

"Very well. My story takes me straight into one of the rooms at St.
Crux--a room about as long as your street here--so dreary, so dirty, and
so dreadfully cold that I shiver at the bare recollection of it. Miss
G