from him of any
assistance which I might require at his hands. I wrote back, warmly
acknowledging my obligations to his kindness, and apologising for not
expressing my thanks personally, in consequence of my immediate recall
on pressing business to town.

Half an hour later I was speeding back to London by the express train.

II

It was between nine and ten o'clock before I reached Fulham, and found
my way to Gower's Walk.

Both Laura and Marian came to the door to let me in. I think we had
hardly known how close the tie was which bound us three together, until
the evening came which united us again. We met as if we had been
parted for months instead of for a few days only. Marian's face was
sadly worn and anxious. I saw who had known all the danger and borne
all the trouble in my absence the moment I looked at her. Laura's
brighter looks and better spirits told me how carefully she had been
spared all knowledge of the dreadful death at Welmingham, and of the
true reason of our change of abode.

The stir of the removal seemed to have cheered and interested her. She
only spoke of it as a happy thought of Marian's to surprise me on my
return with a change from the close, noisy street to the pleasant
neighbourhood of trees and fields and the river. She was full of
projects for the future--of the drawings she was to finish--of the
purchasers I had found in the country who were to buy them--of the
shillings and sixpences she had saved, till her purse was so heavy that
she proudly asked me to weigh it in my own hand. The change for the
better which had been wrought in her during the few days of my absence
was a surprise to me for which I was quite unprepared--and for all the
unspeakable happiness of seeing it, I was indebted to Marian's courage
and to Marian's love.

When Laura had left us, and when we could speak to one another without
restraint, I tried to give some expression to the gratitude and the
admiration which filled my heart. But the generous creature would not
wait to hear me. That sublime self-forgetfulness of women, which
yields so much and asks so little, turned all her thoughts from herself
to me.

"I had only a moment left before post-time," she said, "or I should
have written less abruptly. You look worn and weary, Walter. I am
afraid my letter must have seriously alarmed you?"

"Only at first," I replied. "My mind was quieted, Marian, by my trust
in you. Was I right in attributi