unexplained.

"That I can't tell you. You must ask Granny Marrable about that. Not her
daughter--niece--whatever she is. Don't say anything to _her_. She is
not to know."

Granny Marrable was audible in the passage without. "Can't you tell me
what _sort_ of thing?" said Gwen, under her voice.

"It was in a letter that came to her from Snaps--Sapps Court. The Granny
wouldn't tell me what was in it, and begged I would say nothing of it to
Widow Thrale. But the old soul was badly upset by it, shaking all over
and asking for you...."

"Was she asking for me? Then I'm so glad you sent for me. I would not
have been away on any account."

"It had nothing to do with my writing. I should have written for you to
come to-morrow anyhow.... Here comes Granny Marrable." They had been
talking alone, as Mrs. Lamprey had gone outside to speak to Tom.

"Still asleep, Granny?" said the doctor. Yes--she was, said the old
lady; nicely asleep. "Then I'll be off, as it's late." Gwen suggested
that Tom might drive him home, with Mrs. Lamprey, and call back for
instructions.

Said Granny Marrable then, not as one under any new stress:--"My lady,
God bless you for coming, though I would have been glad it had been
daylight. To think of your ladyship out in the cold and damp, for our
sakes!"

"Never mind me, Granny! I'll go to bed to-morrow night. Now tell me
about this letter.... Is Ruth safe in there?" Yes, she was; and would
stay there by her dear mother. Gwen continued: --"Dr. Nash has just
told me there was some letter. But he did not know what was in it."

"He was not to know. But _you_ were, my lady. This is it. Can you see
with the candle?"

Gwen took the letter, and turned to the signature before reading it. It
was from "Ralph Thornton Daverill, _alias_ Rix," which she read quite
easily, for the handwriting was educated enough, and clear. "I see no
date," said she. "Why did Dr. Nash say it had come from Sapps Court?"

"Because, my lady, he saw the envelope. Perhaps your ladyship knows of
'Aunt Maria.' She is little Dave's aunt, in London."

"Oh yes--I know 'Aunt M'riar.' I know her, herself. Why does she write
her name on a letter from this man?"

"I do not know. There is all we know, in the letter, as you have it."

"Whom do you suppose Ralph Thornton Daverill to be, Granny?"

"I know, unhappily. He is her son."

"_The_ son.... Oh yes--I knew of him. She has told me of _him_. Besides,
I knew her name was Daverill, fro