that. No further opportunity had then been given for pursuing the
subject. Japhet had returned to the room, and before the dinner was at
an end, some acquaintance of Mr. Hamlyn had fetched him out for the
evening. And he came home with so fearful a headache that he had lain
groaning and turning all through the night. Mrs. Hamlyn was not a model
of patience, but in all her life she had never felt so impatient as now.

He came into the room looking pale and shivery; a sure sign that he was
suffering; that it was not an invented excuse. Yes, the pain was better,
he said, in answer to his wife's question; and might be much better
after a strong cup of tea; he could not imagine what had brought it on.
_She_ could have told him though, had she been gifted with the magical
power of reading minds, and have seen the nervous apprehension that was
making havoc with his.

Mrs. Hamlyn gave him his tea in silence, and buttered a dainty bit of
toast to tempt him to eat. But he shook his head.

"I cannot, Eliza. Nothing but tea this morning."

"I am sorry you are ill," she said, by-and-by. "I fear it hurts you to
talk; but I want to have it out with you."

"Have it out with me!" cried he, in real or feigned surprise. "Have what
out with me?"

"Oh, you know, Philip. About that woman who has been watching the house
these two days; evidently watching for you."

"But I told you I knew nothing about her: who she is, or what she is, or