aid, "I can imagine a possible reason why you should be
called, and yet not a good one; for it was not of course you who were
acting, but your--husband for you. It is he that should appear, and not
you."

"Oh, John," she cried. "Oh, John!" wringing her hands. She had followed
his looks eagerly, noticing the light that seemed to dawn over his face
with a strange anxiety and keen interest. But John, it was evident, had
not got the clue which she expected, and her face changed into
impatience, disappointment, exasperation. "You have not heard anything
about it," she said; "you don't know."

"It was brought to me," he said, "but I could not take it up--no, I
don't know--except that it's curious from the lapse of time--twenty
years or thereabouts: that's all I know."

"The question is," she said, "about a date. There were some books
destroyed, and it is not known who did it. Suspicion fell upon one--who
might have been guilty: but that on that day--he arrived at the house of
the girl--whom he was going to marry: and consequently could not have
been there----"

"Elinor!"

"Yes," she said, "that is what I am wanted for, John, an excellent
reason after all these years. I must appear to--clear my husband: and
that is how Pippo will find out that I have a husband and he a father.
Oh, John, John! support me with your approval, and help me, oh, help me
to go away."

"Good gracious!" was all that John could say.

"I should have gone first and asked you after," she cried, "for you are
a lawyer, and I suppose you will think you must not advise any one to
fly in the face of the law. And I don't even know whether it will be of
any use to fly. Will they have it in the papers all the same? Will they
put it in that his wife refused to appear on his behalf, that she had
gone away to avoid the summons? Will it be all there for Pippo to guess
and wonder at the name and come to me with questions, mother, who is
this? and mother, what is that? John, can't you answer me, you that I
came to to guide me, to tell me what I must do; have you nothing,
nothing to say?"

"I am too much bewildered to know what I am doing, Elinor. This is all
sprung upon me like a mine: and there was plenty before."

"There was nothing before," she cried, indignantly, "it was all plain
sailing before. He knew nothing of family troubles--how should he, poor
child, being so young? That was simple enough. And I think I see a way
still, John. I will take him off