tartled
me. Please come in."

I ushered her into my sitting-room. She was wearing what I recognized
as her best clothes, and not being entirely at her ease she talked
loudly and rapidly.

"Such a stranger as you are, Mr. Ducaine," she exclaimed. "Fancy, it's
getting on for a month since we any of us saw a sign of you, and I'm
sure never a week used to pass but father'd be looking for you to drop
in. We heard that you were living here all by yourself, and this
morning mother said, perhaps he's ill. We tried to get father to come
up and see, but he's off to Downham market to-day, and goodness knows
when he'd find time if we left it to him. So I thought I'd come and
find out for myself."

"I am quite well, thanks, Miss Moyat," I answered, "but very busy. The
Duke has been giving me some work to do, and he has lent me this
cottage, so that I shall be close at hand. I should have looked you up
the first time I came to Braster, but as a matter of fact I have not
been there since the night of my lecture."

She was nervously playing with the fastening of her umbrella, and it
seemed to me that her silence was purposeful. I ventured some remark
about the weather, which she interrupted ruthlessly.

"It's a mile and a half to our house from here," she said, "not a step
farther. I don't see why you shouldn't have made a purpose journey."

I ignored the reproach in her eyes, as I had every right to do. But I
began to understand the reason of her nervousness and her best clothes,
and I prayed for Grooton's return.

"If I had had an evening to myself," I said, "I should certainly have
paid your father a visit. But as it happens, the Duke has required me
at the house every night while he was here, and he has left me enough
work to do to keep me busy night and day till he comes back."

She looked down upon the floor.

"I had to come and see you," she said in a low tone. "Sometimes I can't
sleep for thinking of it. I feel that I haven't done right."

I knew, of course, what she meant.

"I thought we had talked all that out long ago," I answered, a little
wearily. "You would have been very foolish if you had acted
differently. I don't see how else you could have acted."

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "We were always brought up very
particular--especially about telling the truth."

"Well, you haven't said anything that wasn't the truth," I reminded her.

"Oh, I don't know. I haven't said what I ought to say," she declared.