Could Mrs. Werner at that moment have caught sight of the former Dolly, she would not have rebuked her for undue merriment.

She might have talked her light, innocent, mocking talk for the length of a summer's day without causing a shade to pass across her friend's face; she might have laughed till the welkin rang, and Mrs. Werner would not have marvelled how she could be so silly; she might have ridiculed all the decorous people within a circle of fifty miles had it pleased her, and Mrs. Werner would never have remarked she feared her powers of mimicry would get her into trouble.

"And I thought myself better than Dolly," considered Mrs. Werner.

"Imagined I was a more faithful wife, a higher type of womanhood; I, who could not endure what she has borne so patiently; I, who must have compelled any man, sick or well, to bear the burden with me, who could never forgive any man weak enough or wicked enough to compass such ruin for his wife and family! My dear, the look in your poor face to-night, as you sat with the firelight gleaming upon it, will haunt me till I die."

The result of which meditation was that, the first thing on Christmas morning, Mrs. Werner despatched this note to Dolly by a special messenger,

"I wish, dear, you would give me a Christmas gift,--your promise that so soon as Mr. Mortomley's presence can be dispensed with at Salisbury House, you will go away from town for a short time. I am quite certain your husband will never get well in London, and there can be no doubt but that you require a change almost as much as he does, With fond love, Yours, LEONORA."

To which, detaining the messenger while she wrote, Mrs. Mortomley replied,

"Dear Lenny,--Ere this, you will have received my note written last night concerning your Christmas present, so I need say no more on that subject. But oh! Lenny, how could you steal such a march upon me?

"Yes, I will promise what you ask. We will leave London the moment we can do so, and remain away as long as possible--if it rested with me, for ever. I have no desire to remain here--I shall have none to return here.

Always yours, DOLLY.

"Rupert dragged Archie about last night with the idea of doing him good, till he was quite exhausted, and the consequence is that he does not feel nearly so well this morning. Good-bye, a merry Christmas to you, my dear, and many, and many happy new years."

For Dolly, whatever the new year might hold in store, she made a very pleasant Christmas for herself and others in that small house at Clapton. Miss Gerace had sent up a hamper filled with farm-house produce to her niece, and that hamper was supplemented by another filled with game shot in Dassell woods.

The three--Rupert, Mortomley and Dolly--consequently sat down to as nice a little dinner as could have been furnished at Elm Park, whither Rupert was invited to eat turkeys and mince pies. But he preferred for reasons of his own holding high festival with his uncle and aunt, and Dolly rewarded him by proving as gracious and pleasant a hostess in adversity as she had often been in the days of her prosperity.

The change Mrs. Werner beheld had been wrought almost under Rupert's eyes by a process so gradual that it failed to affect him as it had touched her friend.

He saw she grew thinner and paler. He knew she was more silent and thoughtful than of old. He heard her laugh had lost its ringing clearness, and that her smile, once so bright and sunny, had something of a wintry gleam about it, but these changes were but the natural consequence of what she had gone through, the legitimate scars left from wounds received during the course of that weary battle which had been fought out bravely if foolishly to the end.

She could be pleasant and lively enough still, he decided, as she talked and laughed while nibbling like a squirrel as he suggested, the walnuts he prepared for her delectation.

Aye, and she could be wise and strong too, he thought as he met her brown eyes fixed gravely on his, while she solemnly touched his wine-glass with her own, and hoped in a tone, which was almost a prayer, that the coming year might prove a happier and more prosperous one to them all.

She was vexed with Rupert for having allowed and indeed encouraged her husband to over-exert himself, but she was pleased with Rupert for having relinquished the gaieties of Elm Park in their favour.

It is always a pleasant thing for a woman to know or imagine her society is preferred to that of some other woman, even though that other woman should occupy the humble position of a man's sister, and Dolly, much as she loved her husband, did feel gratified that on the occasion of their first Christmas dinner after leaving Homewood, they were not compelled to take that meal _tete-a-tete_.

True, they had invitations by the dozen, but then that was a different matter.

The people who sent those invitations, although they understood Mr.

Mortomley was ruined, did not, could not realize the length and breadth, and height and depth of the gulf which divided the Mortomleys of Clapton from the Mortomleys of Homewood.

Now Rupert did understand, and she felt the better pleased with his self-proffered company.

And as he was there she rejoiced that her aunt had sent up so well-stocked a hamper, and she inwardly blessed Lord Darsham for having ordered such a supply of game to be left at Eglantine Cottage; and she was glad Rupert should see there seemed no lack of anything in their temporary home, small though its limits might be; and above all she felt thankful for the cheque lying safely in her new purse, which removed such a weight and load of care from her.

"One hundred pounds," she kept mentally repeating to herself, while her heart throbbed joyfully in accord with the air her mind was singing--"Why, one hundred pounds properly managed--and I do now understand how to manage money--will last for ever."

Poor Dolly, she was not such a simpleton as her ideas might lead any one to imagine; already she had formed her plans for the future, and Rupert, looking at her sparkling face, guessed that some good had come to or was expected by her.

"She would never be so cheerful as she is," the young man decided, "with only five pounds between them and beggary, unless she had got more or knew where to get it. I will put my idea to the test presently."

And so, when after dinner and coffee Mortomley had fallen into that evening sleep now become habitual, and which the doctor told Dolly to encourage, Rupert drew his chair near to his companion and said in a low tone,

"Dolly, are you rich enough to lend me fifteen pounds? I can repay you in a fortnight or three weeks. Of course Dean would lend me that amount, but then I do not care to ask a favour from him. Talking about money to you and Archie never seems the same evil thing as talking about money to other people."

Dolly looked up at him frankly. "You do not want it to-night, I suppose?"

"No; any time within a few days, will do."

"You can have it on Thursday," she said, "that is if the weather be fine enough for me to go to town, and I shall not want it again at present.

You need not repay me for a couple of months if you are short."

"She _has_ discovered a gold mine," decided Rupert, but he only said aloud, "Thank you, Dolly, very much. He who gives quickly gives twice, and you always had that grace, my dear."

Next day Mrs. Mortomley had a visitor, one who came when the afternoon was changing into evening, and who sent up a mysterious message to Mrs.

Mortomley by Susan to the effect that "a person wanted to speak to her."

"It is Lang, ma'am," whispered Susan, as she followed her mistress across the hall; "but he charged me not to mention his name before Mr.

Rupert. He says if you wouldn't mind stepping down and speaking to him, he would take it as a kindness."

When Mrs. Mortomley entered the kitchen, she beheld Lang standing in front of a bright fire, his hands crossed behind him, his face turned towards the darkness closing outside.

"How do you do, ma'am," he began. "I hope you will excuse the liberty, but I leave to-morrow, and I felt I could not go without just mentioning that matter to you again."

Mrs. Mortomley at the first glance understood Mr. Lang had been drinking--paying his last footing for a time on English soil, and toasting prosperity to number one in a foreign land. But this made no difference in the cordiality of her reception--sober or not sober, and she had seen him in both states, she knew Lang could speak to the purpose. That unhappy glass too much which overtakes the best and cleverest of our skilled labourers on occasion, was not so rare an accident in Mr. Lang's life that Dolly feared any forgetfulness of etiquette in consequence.

"Pray sit down," she said, pointing to a chair, and then she would have drawn down the blind and lit the gas had not Lang prevented her.

"I think I can do that much at any rate," he remarked; but whether his observation had a special or a particular application, Dolly was unable to tell.

It appeared, however, as though he was able to do "that much," for he lit the gas and drew down the blinds, and then placed a seat for Mrs.

Mortomley.

"If you will excuse me, ma'am," he said, "but I believe it is as cheap to sit as to stand."

"Certainly it is," agreed Dolly, and accepted the proffered civility, Mr. Lang seating himself on the other side of the hearth.

"Yes, I am going away to-morrow," repeated Mr. Lang, with that harking back, without a previous link to a first idea, which is so curious a peculiarity of his class.

"I hope you will make a great success," said Dolly. With the peculiarity of her class, she was able to appear utterly indifferent, while her heart was aching till she heard Lang's next words.

"I shall make some money, of that I have no doubt," answered the man. "I have the knowledge, and knowledge is what people want now-a-days; but, bless you, I know what they'll do--they'll pick my brains and then throw me aside like a sucked orange," he finished, with a singular involvement of metaphor.

Mrs. Mortomley did not answer. She had some knowledge of his class, derived from that insight which a clever woman who personally relieves those who make their living by labour, when they are sick or distressed, must acquire almost unconsciously, and she did not wish to lose a point in her game by precipitancy.

"Like a sucked orange as that blackguard Swanland would have liked to do," Mr. Lang kindly explained.

"I suppose you will start in business on your own account when you return to England," said Mrs. Mortomley, seeing some reply was expected from her.