Aldyth passed through the next few days with a strange sense of unreality. She went about the house and grounds, looked at all the quaint, old-fashioned belongings, so familiar to her, and told herself they were now her own; but it did not seem as if it could be true. She had not much time for solitary musing. There were many things to be arranged, and though nothing was said about the will till after the funeral, every one about the place soon seemed to know that Miss Aldyth's opinion was of the first importance, and everything must be referred to her.

Guy's bearing but too plainly proclaimed the disappointment of his hopes. It made Aldyth miserable to see him; but he would not allow her to express any feeling on the subject. He checked the faltering words she tried to utter with a cold profession that he was glad things had turned out so well for her.

"Women are better diplomatists than men," he said, sneeringly. "They are clever enough to win their ends without losing favour at court."

The words stung Aldyth, who felt that they were unjust. It hurt her, too, that Hilda sent her no word, nor took the slightest notice of her being at Wyndham.

She had an uncomfortable sense that most persons were treating her in a new manner. Mr. Greenwood, the banker, one of the executors of Mr. Lorraine's will, and his brother, Mr. Ralph, became quite ceremonious in their deference to her wishes. The servants, whom she regarded as old friends, showed an unusual assiduity in waiting on her. The rector of Woodham suddenly grew interested in her views on various questions, and the new curate in charge of the old church, actuated possibly by the hope of future subscriptions, called twice ere her uncle had been dead a week. As for her mother, it was with a bitter sense of amusement that Aldyth read her congratulations.

"My DARLING CHILD," Mrs. Stanton wrote—"It makes me so happy to know that your lifelong devotion to your grand-uncle has met with its right reward. You deserve to be rich and prosperous, for you have always been so good and unselfish, so willing to do all in your power to make others happy. I confess I trembled when I heard how you had disappointed his wish that you should marry your cousin; but it is plain now that you acted for the best. Of course he feels it, but he is a man, and can make his way in the world; it is much better you should be provided for.
"We miss you every day. How I wish you were coming to Eastbourne with us! Papa will not accompany us, after all. He has received such accounts of the state of his business that he has resolved to return to Melbourne at once. I am sorry, for he is hardly fit to go alone, and he will not hear of my returning so soon. But I must hope for the best. It is such a comfort to know of your good fortune. Do write again soon, and let me know when I shall see you.
"Your loving
"MOTHER."

So nothing now was to be said about her stupidity and folly. Her notions were no longer ridiculous. She was good and unselfish, and all she had done was right.

Gladys had added a few characteristic lines.

"You lucky girl!" she wrote. "So you have money and lands, horses, carriages, an establishment; all without the trouble of a husband! If I were you, I would never marry, but enjoy my liberty, and do as I liked. I, alas! can only get a fortune by selling myself. Fancy mamma's indignation—that tiresome Captain Walker is not going to Eastbourne after all! He feels bound instead to visit an aged relative in Essex. I believe he backed out of it because he found you were not going, but mamma says that is nonsense.
"I hope you will soon invite me to visit you in your new grandeur. You will let me have a gallop on one of your horses, won't you, Aldyth, dear? And I'll vow that you are the dearest sister that ever was."

Aldyth could smile over Gladys' words. She showed them to her aunt, who said at once—