"I have not been in the house two minutes," Esther replied, "and I
haven't seen mother yet. Forgive me."

She had come to a standstill a few yards away. She moved now very
slowly towards the chair, with the air of one fulfilling a hateful
task. The fingers which accepted his hands were extended almost
hesitatingly. He drew her closer to him and held her there.

"Your mother, my dear Esther, is, I regret to say, suffering from
a slight indisposition," he remarked. "She has been confined to
her room for the last few days. Just a trifling affair of the
nerves; nothing more, Doctor Sarson assures me. But my dear child,"
he went on, "your fingers are as cold as ice. You look at me so
strangely, too. Alas! you have not the affectionate disposition
of your dear mother. One would scarcely believe that we have been
parted for more than a week."

"For more than a week," she repeated, under her breath.

"Stoop down, my dear. I must kiss your forehead--there! Now
bring up a chair to my side. You seem frightened--alarmed. Have
you ill news for me?"

"I have no news," she answered, gradually recovering herself.

"The gaieties of London, I fear," he protested gently, "have proved
a little unsettling."

"There were no gaieties for me," the girl replied bitterly. "Mrs.
Sargent obeyed your orders very faithfully. I was not allowed to