character. It is not often that great wealth comes into hands so worthy
of it."

"I am afraid they are not very worthy," sighed Deb. Mr
Goldsworthy knew better. He knew HER better--not only from personal
intercourse, the observation and intuition of a man trained to read
character, but from the loving representations of his dear wife.

"Where is she?" Miss Pennycuick asked abruptly. "Not out, I hope?"

"Out--hardly! She will be here in a moment. I am afraid, when you see
her, you will think her looking delicate. The state of her health is a
matter of the most anxious concern to me."

"What is the matter with her health? She was always well at home. We
used to think her the strongest of the family--until--"

"Until she fell into the clutches of that dreadful man," Mr Goldsworthy
concluded for her.

"Oh!"--Deb coloured and frowned--"that is not what I was going to
say." (What she had really been going to say was--"until her
marriage.") "And why do you rake up that old story? I thought it had
all been forgotten long ago."

"It has been unpleasantly revived," said Mr Goldsworthy solemnly. "And
it is my duty to tell you about it, if you have not heard."

Deb looked equally annoyed and alarmed. "What has been revived?" she
asked.