"Yes, do, let me share your confidence, at least. I brought you up from pinafores, you know, quite like my own child. Oh, I wish I had one. Why haven't I a child? Now, I know what you're going to say--marriage, of course--but I've never had the chance, nobody wanted to marry me--so odd--I would have made a loving wife--quite like an ivy--really a clinging ivy. Oh, if I could only find my oak."
The little lady fluttered tearfully out of the room, leaving Una sitting alone with the letters on her lap, looking out at the dreary scene. She sighed sadly, and gathering the letters together arose from her chair, when just at that moment a ring came to the front-door bell. Una started apprehensively and her pale face grew yet paler, but she said nothing, only stood like a statue by the window with an expectant look upon her face. Hardly had the harsh jingle of the bell ceased to echo through the house when Jellicks entered, and wriggling up to Una, announced in a hissing whisper that Mr. Beaumont desired to see her.
"Mr. Beaumont," murmured Una, starting suddenly, "what does he want, I wonder? I'd better see him, it may do some good--some good. Yes!" she said aloud, "I will see him; Jellicks, show Mr. Beaumont into this room."
She resumed her seat by the window as Jellicks vanished, and shortly afterwards the door opened and Basil Beaumont, looking haggard and fierce, stood before her. He bowed, but did not attempt any warmer greeting, and she, on her part, simply pointed to a chair near her, upon which he took his seat.
"I suppose you are astonished to see me, Miss Challoner?" he said, after a pause.
"I confess I am a little," she replied calmly, "I thought you were up in London."
"So I was, but I came down to Garsworth yesterday."
"Indeed? Our quiet little village must have great attractions to draw you away from London."
"I did not come down without an object, Miss Challoner," he said gravely, "I have a duty to fulfil."
"Towards whom?"