o further away than Worthing? The bald, horrible
truth--impossible! Yet Mr Milvain knew it, and the Carters must guess
it. What colour could be thrown upon such vulgar distress?

The worst was not yet. It declared itself this May morning, when, quite
unexpectedly, a cab drove up to the house, bringing Amy and her child,
and her trunks, and her band-boxes, and her what-nots.

From the dining-room window Mrs Yule was aware of this arrival, and in a
few moments she learnt the unspeakable cause.

She burst into tears, genuine as ever woman shed.

'There's no use in that, mother,' said Amy, whose temper was in a
dangerous state. 'Nothing worse can happen, that's one consolation.'

'Oh, it's disgraceful! disgraceful!' sobbed Mrs Yule. 'What we are to
say I can NOT think.'

'I shall say nothing whatever. People can scarcely have the impertinence
to ask us questions when we have shown that they are unwelcome.'

'But there are some people I can't help giving some explanation to. My
dear child, he is not in his right mind. I'm convinced of it, there! He
is not in his right mind.'

'That's nonsense, mother. He is as sane as I am.'

'But you have often said what strange things he says and does; you know
you have, Amy. That talking in his sleep; I've thought a great deal of
it since you told me about that. And--and so many other things. My love,
I shall give it to be understood that he has become so very odd in his
ways that--'

'I can't have that,' replied Amy with decision. 'Don't you see that in
that case I should be behaving very badly?'

'I can't see that at all. There are many reasons, as you know very well,
why one shouldn't live with a husband who is at all suspected of mental
derangement. You have done your utmost for him. And this would be some
sort of explanation, you know. I am so convinced that there is truth in
it, too.'

'Of course I can't prevent you from saying what you like, but I think it
would be very wrong to start a rumour of this kind.'

There was less resolve in this utterance. Amy mused, and looked
wretched.

'Come up to the drawing-room, dear,' said her mother, for they had held
their conversation in the room nearest to the house-door. 'What a state
your mind must be in! Oh dear! Oh dear!'

She was a slender, well-proportioned woman, still pretty in face, and
dressed in a way that emphasised her abiding charms. Her voice had
something of plaintiveness, and altogether she was of frailer typ