Her father objected that she would encounter a terrible trial, from which he could save her; but she entreated him, and he yielded to her entreaty, though against his judgment.

When this was settled, nothing remained but to execute it.

Then the woman came uppermost, and Grace procrastinated for one insufficient reason and another.

However, at last she resolved that the very next day she would ask John Baker to get her a private interview with Colonel Clifford in his study.

This resolution had not been long formed when that very John Baker tapped at Mr. Hope’s door, and brought her a note from Colonel Clifford asking her if she could favor him with a visit in his study.

Grace said, “Yes, Mr. Baker, I will come directly.”

As soon as Baker was gone she began to bemoan her weak procrastination, and begged her father’s pardon for her presumption in taking the matter out of his hands.  “You would not have put it off a day.  Now, see what I have done by my cowardice.”

Hope did not see what she had done, and the quick-witted young lady jumping at once at a conclusion, opened her eyes and said,

“Why, don’t you see?  Some other person has told him what it was so important he should hear first from me.  Ah! it is the same gentleman that came and warned me.  He has heard that we are actually married, for it is the talk of the place, and he told me she would punish him if he neglected her warning.  Oh, what shall I do?”

“You go too fast, Grace, dear.  Don’t run before trouble like that.  Come, go to Colonel Clifford, and you will find it is nothing of the kind.”

Grace shook her head grandly.  Experience had given her faith in her own instincts, as people call them—­though they are subtle reasonings the steps of which are not put forward—­and she went down to the study.

“Grace, my dear,” said the Colonel, “I think I shall have a fit of the gout.”

“Oh no,” said Grace.  “We have trouble enough.”

“It gets less every day, my dear; that is one comfort.  But what I meant was that our poor invalids eclipse me entirely in your good graces.  That is because you are a true woman, and an honor to your sex.  But I should like to see a little more of you.  Well, all in good time.  I didn’t send for you to tell you that.  Sit down, my girl; it is a matter of business.”

Grace sat down, keenly on her guard, though she did not show it in the least.  Colonel Clifford resumed,

“You may be sure that nothing has been near my heart for some time but your danger and my dear son’s.  Still, I owe something to other sufferers, and the poor widows whose husbands have perished in that mine have cried to me for vengeance on the person who bribed that Burnley.  I am a magistrate, too, and duty must never be neglected.  I have got detectives about, and I have offered five hundred guineas reward for the discovery of the villain.  One Jem Davies