"This lady, Pigott," said the old squire, addressing her, "is Mrs.
Philip Caresfoot, and you will be so kind as to treat her with all
respect. Don't open your eyes, but attend to me. For the present, you
had best put her in the red room, and attend to her yourself. Do you
understand?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I understand," Pigott replied, curtseying. "Will you be
pleased to come along with me, ma'am?"

Hilda rose and took Pigott's arm. Excitement and fatigue had worn her
out. Before she went, however, she turned, and with tears in her eyes
thanked the old man for his kindness to a friendless woman.

The hard eyes grew kindly as he stooped and kissed the broad, white
brow, and said in his stately way--

"My dear, as yet I have shown you nothing but the courtesy due to a
lady. Should I live, I hope to bestow on you the affection I owe to a
much-wronged daughter. Good-by."

And thus they parted, little knowing where they should meet again.

"A woman I respect--well, English or German, the blood will tell"--he
said as soon as the door had closed. "Poor thing--poor Maria too. The
scoundrel!--ah! there it is again;" and he pressed his hand to his
heart. "This business has upset me, and no wonder."

The pang passed, and sitting down he wrote a letter that evidently
embarrassed him considerably, and addressed it to Miss Lee. This he
put in the post-box, and then, going to a secretaire, he unlocked it,