and the chances
are it will bring him back all right. I've told her so a dozen times,
but she pays no attention to me. You're a great pal of hers. Why don't
you give her a hint? Phil's not the sort of man to be kept in order like
that. She ought to give him his head."

"I'm afraid," said John, "it's not a matter in which I can interfere."

"Well, some of her friends should, anyhow, and teach her a little sense.
You're a cautious man, I see," said Lady Mariamne. "You think it's too
delicate to advise a woman who thinks herself an injured wife. I didn't
say to console her, mind you," she said with a shriek of a laugh.

It may be supposed that after this John was still more unwilling to go
to the Cottage, to run the risk of betraying himself. He did write to
Elinor, telling her that he had heard of her from her sister-in-law; but
when he tried to take Lady Mariamne's advice and "give her a hint,"
John felt his lips sealed. How could he breathe a word even of such a
suspicion to Elinor? How could he let her know that he thought such a
thing possible?--or presume to advise her, to take her condition for
granted? It was impossible. He ended by some aimless wish that he might
meet her at the Cottage for Christmas; "you and Mr. Compton," he
said--whom he did not wish to meet, the last person in the world: and of
whom there was no question that he should go to the Cottage at Christmas
or any other time. But what could John do or say? To suggest to her that
he thought her an injured wife was beyond his power.

It was somewhere about Christmas--just before--in that dread moment for
the lonely and those who are in sorrow and distress, when all the rest
of the world is preparing for that family festival, or pretending to
prepare, that John Tatham was told one morning in his chambers that a
lady wanted to see him. He was occupied, as it happened, with a client
for whom he had stayed in town longer than he had intended to stay, and
he paid little more attention than to direct his clerk to ask the lady
what her business was, or if she could wait. The client was long-winded,
and lingered, but John's mind was not free enough nor his imagination
lively enough to rouse much curiosity in him in respect to the lady who
was waiting. It was only when she was ushered in by his clerk, as the
other went away, and putting up her veil showed the pale and anxious
countenance of Mrs. Dennistoun, that the shock as of sudden calamity
reached him. "A