answer to a hurried question from Cicely as soon
as they were alone. 'She might have had three weeks with him, and now
there can only be a day or two. What was Miss Cookson about? Even if she
were just mistaken, she might at least have brought her sister over to
see for herself--instead of preventing it by every means in her power. A
most extraordinary woman!'

Cicely felt her way in reply. She really knew nothing except what
Farrell had been able hurriedly to say to Marsworth at Windermere
station--which had been afterwards handed on to her. Farrell himself was
entirely mystified. 'The only motive I can suggest'--he had said to
Marsworth--'is that Miss Cookson had an insane dislike of her
brother-in-law. But, even so, why did she do it?'

Why, indeed? Cicely now heard the whole story from her companion; and
her shrewd mind very soon began to guess at reasons. She had always
observed Bridget's complaisance towards her brother, and even towards
herself--a clumsy complaisance which had never appealed at all either to
her or him. And she had noticed many small traits and incidents that
seemed to shew that Bridget had resented her sister's marriage, and felt
bitterly that Nelly might have done far better for herself. Also that
there was a strong taste for personal luxury in Bridget, which seemed
entirely lacking in Nelly.

'She wanted Willy's money!'--thought Cicely--'and couldn't get it for
herself. So when poor Sarratt disappeared, she saw a way of getting it
through Nelly. Not a bad idea!--if you are to have ideas of that kind.
But then, why behave like an idiot when Providence had done the thing
for you?'

That was really the puzzle. George Sarratt was dying. Why not let poor
Nelly have her last weeks with him in peace, and then--in time--marry
her safely and lawfully to Willy?

But Cicely had again some inkling of Bridget's probable reply. She had
not been intimate with Nelly for more than a year without realising that
she was one of those creatures--so rare in our modern world--who do in
truth live and die by their affections. The disappearance of her husband
had very nearly killed her. In the first winter after he was finally
reported as 'Missing--believed killed,' and when she had really
abandoned hope, the slightest accident--a bad chill--an attack of
childish illness--any further shock--might have slit the thin-spun life
in a few days or weeks. The Torquay doctor had told Hester that she was
on the brink of