told me of that woman's past conduct,
and of that man's past relations with her, than you or any of your
neighbours ever suspected. There is a secret we none of us know
between those two, and I am going to Mrs. Catherick with the resolution
to find it out."

"Think twice about it, sir!" said Mrs. Clements, rising in her
earnestness and laying her hand on my arm. "She's an awful woman--you
don't know her as I do. Think twice about it."

"I am sure your warning is kindly meant, Mrs. Clements. But I am
determined to see the woman, whatever comes of it."

Mrs. Clements looked me anxiously in the face.

"I see your mind is made up, sir," she said. "I will give you the
address."

I wrote it down in my pocket-book and then took her hand to say
farewell.

"You shall hear from me soon," I said; "you shall know all that I have
promised to tell you."

Mrs. Clements sighed and shook her head doubtfully.

"An old woman's advice is sometimes worth taking, sir," she said.
"Think twice before you go to Welmingham."

VIII

When I reached home again after my interview with Mrs. Clements, I was
struck by the appearance of a change in Laura.

The unvarying gentleness and patience which long misfortune had tried
so cruelly and had never conquered yet, seemed now to have suddenly
failed her. Insensible to all Marian's attempts to soothe and amuse
her, she sat, with her neglected drawing pushed away on the table, her
eyes resolutely cast down, her fingers twining and untwining themselves
restlessly in her lap. Marian rose when I came in, with a silent
distress in her face, waited for a moment to see if Laura would look up
at my approach, whispered to me, "Try if you can rouse her," and left
the room.

I sat down in the vacant chair--gently unclasped the poor, worn,
restless fingers, and took both her hands in mine.

"What are you thinking of, Laura? Tell me, my darling--try and tell me
what it is."

She struggled with herself, and raised her eyes to mine. "I can't feel
happy," she said, "I can't help thinking----" She stopped, bent forward
a little, and laid her head on my shoulder, with a terrible mute
helplessness that struck me to the heart.

"Try to tell me," I repeated gently; "try to tell me why you are not
happy."

"I am so useless--I am such a burden on both of you," she answered,
with a weary, hopeless sigh. "You work and get money, Walter, and
Marian helps you. Why is there nothing I can do? Y