ubmissive tone of a
strong nature, bent but not daring to break down. She could not
shed tears, deeply as she felt; she must save all her strength and
bear that gnawing misery which Herbert Bowater's mention of J. C.'s
brothers had inflicted upon her--bear it in utter uncertainty
through the night's journey, until the train stopped at Wil'sbro' at
eleven o'clock, and her father, to whom she had telegraphed, met
her, holding out his arms, and absolutely crying over her for joy.

"My dear, my dear, I knew you would come; I could trust to my little
Lena. It was all some confounded mistake."

"It was my fault. How is she?"

"Does nothing but ask for you. Very low--nasty fever at night.
What's that woman? M'Vie sent a nurse, who is awfully jealous;
can't have her in to Camilla: but there's plenty to do; Anais is
laid up--coachman too, and Joe--half the other servants gone off. I
told Victor I would pay anything to him if he would stay."

"And--at Compton?" faintly asked Lenore.

"Bad enough, they say. Serves 'em right; Mrs. Raymond was as
mischievous as Duncombe's wife, but I've not heard for the last two
days; there's been no one to send over, and I've had enough to think
about of my own."

"Who have it there?" she managed to say.

"Raymond and his wife, both; and Frank and the young De Lancey, I
heard. I met Julius Charnock the other day very anxious about them.
He's got his tithe barn stuffed with children from Water Lane, as if
he wanted to spread it. All their meddling! But what kept you so
long, little one? Where were you hiding?--or did Lady Susan keep it
from you? I began to think you had eloped with her son. You are
sure you have not?"

"I was wrong, father; I went to a Retreat with Lady Susan."

"A what? Some of Lady Susan's little poperies, eh? I can't scold
you, child, now I've got you; only have your letters forwarded
another time," said Sir Harry, placable as usual when alone with
Lenore.

Fears of infection for her did not occur to him. Mr. M'Vie held the
non-contagion theory, and helpless selfishness excluded all thoughts
of keeping his daughter at a distance. He clung to her as he used
to do in former days, before Camilla had taken possession of him,
and could not bear to have her out of reach. In the sick-room she
was of disappointingly little use. The nurse was a regular
professional, used to despotism, and resenting her having brought
home any one with her, and she never