devote her self to the task of propitiating her host's affections. She
urged her to try and break through his reserve--see more of him; as if
that were possible! And her letters were more filled with questions
about Darrell than even with admonitions and soothings to Sophy. The
letters that arrived at Fawley were brought in a bag, which Darrell
opened; but Sophy noticed that it was with a peculiar compression of lip,
and a marked change of colour, that he had noticed the handwriting on
Lady Montfort's first letter to her, and that after that first time her
letters were not enclosed in the bag, but came apart, and were never
again given to her by her host.

Thus passed days in which Sophy's time was spent chiefly in Waife's sick-
room. But now he is regaining strength hourly. To his sitting-room
comes George frequently to relieve Sophy's watch. There, once a day,
comes Guy Darrell, and what then passed between the two men none
witnessed. In these hours Waife insisted upon Sophy's going forth for
air and exercise. She is glad to steal out alone-steal down by the banks
of the calm lake, or into the gloom of the mournful woods. Here she not
unfrequently encounters Fairthorn, who, having taken more than ever to
the flute, is driven more than ever to outdoor rambles, for he has been
cautioned not to indulge in his melodious resource within doors lest he
disturb the patient.

Fairthorn and Sophy thus made acquaintance, distant and shy at first on
both sides; but it gradually became more frank and cordial. Fairthorn
had an object not altogether friendly in encouraging this intimacy. He
thought, poor man, that he should be enabled to extract from Sophy some
revelations of her early life, which would elucidate, not in favour of
her asserted claims, the mystery that hung upon her parentage. But had
Dick Fairthorn been the astutest of diplomatists, in this hope he would