ill there is another
engagement, and poor Myra driven half-mad."

"What, after such a lesson as this has been, Miss Jerrold?"

"Of course. Poor Mark will think the best thing for Myra to do will be
to marry, so as to get rid of the ambiguous position in which she is
placed. Wife to a convict serving his time. Poor child, it gives me a
shudder every time I think of it. There, I will not think of it any
more. I've made my mind up, and I shall go."

"I would," said Guest eagerly.

"Eh? And pray why, sir?" cried the old lady sharply.

"I thought it would be better," said Guest confusedly.

"For someone we know, eh? No, no, sir. That's all over now. Some
people had better treat their lives as schoolboys do their slates:
sponge them neatly, make them clean, and begin all over again."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"I SHALL HAVE TO GO."

A year passed rapidly away, during which time Guest's visits were pretty
constant to Benchers' Inn, or to that institution where the new curator
seemed to have thrown himself with so much spirit into his work that
Guest often came to the conclusion that he must have treated his past
after the fashion suggested by the admiral's sister. For there were no
friendly confidences, and it was only a supposition that Stratton might
be well informed as to the doings of the family abroad.

At last one morning, after being expectant and on thorns for weeks,
Guest made his way to Bayswater, sending the cabman by a circuitous
route, so as to pass through Bourne Square.

The family had not returned, but there were painters at work; and
excited by this, he rang at Miss Jerrold's, was shown up, and as soon as
he had shaken hands the old lady tightened her lips and shook her head
at him.

"All my good advice thrown away, boy," she said. "Now no deceit; you've
heard news?"

"Indeed, no," he cried. "I only came through the square."

"On purpose?"

"Well, yes, and saw that there were men at work painting."

"Pooh!" ejaculated Miss Jerrold. "That may mean my brother is going to
let the house."

"But Sir Mark is not going to let the house, Miss Jerrold?"

"Of course not. Yes; you are right: they will be back in about a week."

"In a week?" cried Guest joyously.

"Yes. I wanted to see you, though. How about your friend, Mr
Stratton: he has forgotten all that mad nonsense, I suppose?"

Guest was silent for a few moments while the old lady looked at him
inquiringly.

"You do not kno