Mrs. Presty reluctantly consented to this proposal, on one
condition. "It is understood," she stipulated "that I am to see
you the first thing in the morning?"

Mrs. Linley was ready to accept that condition, or any condition,
which promised her a night of uninterrupted repose. She crossed
the room to her husband, and took his arm. "In my state of
fatigue, Herbert, I shall never get up our steep stairs, unless
you help me."

As they ascended the stairs together, Linley found that his wife
had a reason of her own for leaving the drawing-room.

"I am quite weary enough to go to bed," she explained. "But I
wanted to speak to you first. It's about Miss Westerfield. (No,
no, we needn't stop on the landing.) Do you know, I think I have
found out what has altered our little governess so strangely--I
seem to startle you?"

"No."

"I am only astonished," Mrs. Linley resumed, "at my own stupidity
in not having discovered it before. We must be kinder than ever
to the poor girl now; can't you guess why? My dear, how dull you
are! Must I remind you that we have had two single men among our
visitors? One of them is old and doesn't matter. But the other--I
mean Sir George, of course--is young, handsome, and agreeable. I
am so sorry for Sydney Westerfield. It's plain to me that she is
hopelessly in love with a man who has run through his fortune,