Evandale would be ruined in costs."

"I don't mind that, so long as the truth prevails," said Mr. Evandale.

"I do not want the money--neither does Enid; we would sooner endow an hospital with it or give it to little Dick than keep it if gained under such auspices. But it is hard to see Mrs. Vane--whom I firmly believe to be guilty of fraud as well as of an attempt upon my darling's life--triumphant in wrong-doing."

"Well, nobody ought to know better than you, Mr. Evandale, that the wicked flourish like the green bay-tree," said Miss Vane drily; "and I don't see that it is our part to destroy them."

"Aunt Leo, you are making us feel ourselves horrid!" said Enid from the cushions amongst which her aunt had insisted on installing her. "We do not want to punish her, or to make dear uncle Richard ill, or to turn poor little Dick out of Beechfield."

"Yet it is just those things which you propose doing."

There was a moment's silence. Then the Rector looked at Enid.

"I think we shall have to give it up, Enid, unless we get other evidence."

"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Enid, with tears in her eyes. "It was when I felt that it was perhaps my duty to speak that I was so miserable! But, if it would simply make mischief and be of no use, I am only too glad to feel that I may keep silence."

"I'm glad you see it in that light," said Miss Vane briefly. "I want as little as you do, Mr. Evandale, to see Enid kept out of her rightful inheritance; but I am convinced that, if Enid told my brother what she had heard, he would never believe her, that the excitement would make him ill; there would be a family quarrel, and the whole thing would be productive of no good result at all. If we get more evidence, or if one of the guilty parties would confess, why, then it would be a different matter."

"I shall not mind seeing uncle Richard now," said Enid softly.

"But you will not go back to Beechfield?" said Mr. Evandale.

"No, indeed; she'll stay here," Miss Vane replied for her. "She'll stay here until she is married; and I hope that that day may not be far off."

"I hope not," said Maurice fervently. "Do you think that I may speak to the General to-day?"

"I should think so. But what about Hubert Lepel, Enid?"

Enid flushed crimson.

"If there is one thing more than another about which the General is particular, it is the keeping of a promise," continued Miss Vane. "He may say that he will hold you to your word."

"He cannot," Enid answered, with lowered eyelids. "For, if what I have been told is true, Hubert has broken his word to me--and so I am free."

"She must be free; she did not love him," said Maurice Evandale conclusively, as if that statement settled the question.

"Ah, well, if love were all," Miss Vane began, but the opening of the door interrupted her. "What is it, Hodges? Another telegram? Is it the General again, I wonder?"

She tore open the brown envelope with more anxiety than she liked to show; her eyebrows went up, and her mouth compressed itself as she read the words--first to herself, and then to Enid and the Rector. The message was again from the General, and ran as follows--

"Hope Enid is safe. Cannot come myself because of carriage-accident. Dick seriously injured; but doctor gives hope."

"Oh, poor little Dick!" said Enid. "And I away from him!"

Miss Vane glanced at the Rector, and read in his eyes what was in her own mind--"If Dick should die, there would be no further perplexity."

Then both dropped their eyes guiltily, and hoped that Enid--dear, innocent, loving Enid!--had not guessed what they were thinking.

"At any rate," said Miss Vane, after a little pause, "you can do nothing now; and it is just as well that we have all resolved to hold our tongues."

And then she went away to write some letters; and Enid was left alone with Maurice Evandale.

"My darling," said her lover, "are you sure that you are content and happy now?"

"Quite sure, Maurice--except that I think--I half think--that I ought not to be married; I shall make such a bad wife to you if I am always ailing and weak."

"But you are not going to be ailing and weak, dearest--you are going to be a strong woman yet. Did you not tell me how you conquered that nervous inclination to give way last night after your interview with Mrs. Vane? And did you not walk to the station and travel up to town in the early morning without doing yourself a particle of harm? Believe me, darling, your ill-health was in great part a figment got up by Mrs. Vane for her own ends. You are perfectly well; and, when we are married, you will be strong too. Do you believe me, Enid?"

"Perfectly."

"And are you sure yet whether you love me or not?"

She smiled, and the color flooded her sweet face. And he, although he knew well enough what she would say, pressed for an answer, and would not be satisfied until it had been put into words.

"Do you love me, Enid? Tell me, darling--'Yes' or 'No'?"

And at last she answered very softly--

"I love you, Maurice, with all my heart and soul!"

CHAPTER XLV.

Maurice Evandale was obliged to go to Beechfield that evening; but, before he went, he explained his position more fully to Miss Vane than he had thought it necessary to do with Enid. His father had left him an ample income; he had no near relatives, and was able to look forward with confidence to giving Enid a comfortable home. He wanted to marry her as soon as possible; but, as Miss Vane pointed out to him, there was no use in being in too great a hurry, for many things would have to be settled before Enid's hand could be given in marriage. She herself had always meant to leave Enid a fair share of her own wealth, and she announced her intention of settling a considerable sum upon her at once.

If the General would do the same thing, Enid would be a bride with a goodly dower. But Miss Vane was a little inclined to think that her brother would be angry with the girl for leaving his house, and that he might be difficult to manage. Mr. Evandale must be guided by circumstances--so she said to him; and, if Dick was ill, and the General anxious and out of temper, he had better defer his proposal for a week or two. She promised that she would do her best to help him; and he knew that he might rely on Enid's assurance of her love.

Accordingly he went back to Beechfield; and Enid was left at Miss Vane's, there to gain strength of mind and body in the pleasant peaceable atmosphere of her house.

Miss Vane did not give many parties or go much into society about this time. With those whom she really loved she was always at her best; and many of her associates would have been thoroughly astonished to see how tender, how loving this worldly, cynical old woman, as they thought her, could show herself to a girl like Enid Vane. She gave up many engagements for Enid's sake, and lived quietly and as best suited her young visitor. For Enid, although rapidly recovering, was not yet strong enough to bear the excitement of London gaieties. Besides, Dick was reported to be very ill, and during his illness Enid could not have borne to go out to theatres and balls.

The General had been driving to the station when the accident took place. The horse had taken fright and grown unmanageable; the phaeton had been nearly dashed to pieces; and Dick, who had been on the box beside his father, had had a terrible fall. He had never spoken or been conscious since; he lingered on from day to day in a state of complete insensibility; and while he was in that state the General would not leave him. Of Flossy nobody heard a word. The General wrote to his sister, and sent kind messages to Enid, but did not mention Flossy. Aunt Leo and Enid both wondered why.

Enid had been in town nearly a week, when one morning a letter was brought to her at the sight of which she colored deeply. She was sitting at the luncheon-table with her aunt, and for a few minutes she left the letter beside her plate unopened.

"Won't you read your letter, dear?" said Miss Vane.

"Thank you, aunt Leo." Then she took the letter and opened it; but her color varied strangely as she read, and, when she had finished it, she pushed it towards her aunt. "Will you read it?" she said quietly. "It seems to me that he does not understand our position."

The servants were not in the room, and she could talk freely. Aunt Leo settled her eye-glasses on her nose, and looked at the letter.

"Why, it's from Hubert!" she said breathlessly.

Then she read it half aloud; and Enid winced at the sound of some of the words.

"My dearest Enid," Hubert had written--"I have just heard that you are in town. If I could come to see you, I would; but you know, I suppose, that I have been ill. I have had no letter from you for what seems an interminable time. I must ask you to excuse more from me to-day--my hand is abominably shaky! "Yours, "H.L."

The handwriting was certainly shaky; Miss Vane had some difficulty in deciphering the crooked characters.