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Maddison," Helen said to him in a low tone as Lady Thurwell turned to go; and he walked down the hall between them and out on to the pavement, leaving Sir Allan on the steps. "You will come and dine with me soon, won't you, Mr. Maddison?" Lady Thurwell asked him, as she touched his hand stepping into the brougham. "I will come whenever you ask me!" he answered rashly.
Those few moments were full of a strange, intense interest to the three persons who side by side had watched the entrance of Mr. Bernard Maddison. To Helen Thurwell, whose whole being was throbbing with a great quickening joy, they were passed in a strenuous effort to struggle against the faintness which the shock of this great tumult of feeling had brought with it.
Sir Allan rose late on the following morning, and until lunch-time begged for the use of the library, where he remained writing letters and reading up the flora of the neighborhood. Early in the afternoon he appeared equipped for his botanizing expedition. "Helen shall go with you and show you the most likely places," Mr. Thurwell had said at luncheon.
And from his looking at her now for the first time so fixedly, and from the abrupt manner in which he had brought out the latter part of his sentence, she knew that he was trying her. "There is one more question, too, Miss Thurwell, which I must ask you, and it is a very important one," he continued, still looking at her. "Do you suspect any one?" She answered him without hesitation. "I do." Mr.
There were no words between them then. Only, after a while, Helen asked quietly: "Sir Allan must he confess?" "It is already done," her visitor answered. "To-morrow the world will know his guilt and my shame. Ah," she cried, her voice suddenly changing, "I had forgotten. Turn your face away from me, Helen Thurwell, and listen."
"You could live here for months and never see a soul if you chose. But I'm afraid you'll soon be bored." "I'm not afraid of that," Sir Allan answered quietly. "Besides, my excuse was not altogether a fiction. I really am an enthusiastic botanist, and I want to take up my researches here just where I was obliged to leave them off so suddenly last year." Mr. Thurwell nodded.
Levy gave it to him with trembling fingers. "Now, dad, listen to me," Benjamin said earnestly, reaching down his overcoat from the peg. "Miss Thurwell will be here some time to-day, I'm certain, to try and buy those letters. I've changed my mind about them. Sell." "Sell," repeated Mr. Levy, surprised. "I thought that that was what we were not to do." "Never mind, never mind.
Helen Thurwell, who had come late with her aunt, was sitting on a low couch near one of the windows. By her side was Sir Allan Beaumerville, and directly in front of her the Earl of Meltoun, with a teacup in his hand, was telling her stories of his college days with her father. There had been a great change in her during the last six months.
"Perhaps you would be so good as to sign this, then?" he said, passing it to her. She took the pen, and wrote her name at the bottom. Then she rose to go. "There is nothing more?" she said. "Nothing except your London address," he reminded her. "I am staying with my aunt, Lady Thurwell, at No. 8, Cadogan Square." "Can I call and see you to-morrow morning there?" She hesitated. After all, why not.
I hear that young man of yours told several people that he had in his pocket what would bring Mr. Brown to the scaffold any day." "It is not true," she answered in a low firm tone. "I know that it is not true." Mr. Thurwell shrugged his shoulders. "I hope not, I'm sure. Still, I'd rather he did not come back here again.
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