“No—­yes—­stay a minute.  Elizabeth, are you to be trusted?”

“I hope I am, Sir.”

“The bailiffs are after me.  I’ve just dodged them.  If they know I’m here the game’s all up—­and it will kill my aunt.”

Shocked as she was, Elizabeth was glad to hear him say that—­glad to see the burst of real emotion with which he flung himself down on the pillow, muttering all sorts of hopeless self-accusations.

“Come, Sir, ’tis no use taking on so,” said she, much as she would have spoken to a child, for there was something childish rather than man like in Ascott’s distress.  Nevertheless, she pitied him, with the unreasoning pity a kind heart gives to any creature, who, blameworthy or not, has fallen into trouble.  “What do you mean to do?”

“Nothing.  I’m cleaned out.  And I haven’t a friend in the world.”

He turned his face to the wall in perfect despair.

Elizabeth tried hard not to sit in judgment upon what the catechism would call her “betters;” and yet her own strong instinct of almost indefinite endurance turned with something approaching contempt from this weak, lightsome nature, broken by the first touch of calamity.

“Come, it’s no use making things worse than they are.  If no body knows that you are here, lock your door and keep quiet.  I’ll bring you some dinner when I bring up Missis’ tea, and not even Mrs. Jones will be any the wiser.”

“You’re a brick, Elizabeth—­a regular brick!” cried the young fellow, brightening up at the least relief.  “That will be capital.—­Get me a good slice of beef, or ham, or something.  And mind you, don’t forget!—­a regular stunning bottle of pale ale.”

“Very well, Sir.”

The acquiescence was somewhat sullen, and had he watched Elizabeth’s face he might have seen there an expression not too flattering.  But she faithfully brought him his dinner, and kept his secret, even though, hearing from over the staircase Mrs. Jones resolutely deny that Mr. Leaf had been at home since morning, she felt very much as if she were conniving at a lie.  With a painful, half-guilty consciousness she waited for her mistress’s usual question.  “Is my nephew come home?” but fortunately it was not asked.—­

Miss Leaf lay quiet and passive, and her faithful nurse settled her for the night with a strangely solemn feeling, as if she were leaving her to her last rest, safe and at peace before the overhanging storm broke upon the family.

But all shadow of this storm seemed to have passed away from him who was its cause.  As soon as the house was still Ascott crept down and fell to his supper with as good an appetite as possible.  He even became free and conversational.

“Don’t look so glum, Elizabeth.  I shall soon weather through.  Old Ascott will fork out; he couldn’t help it.  I’m to be his nephew you know.  Oh, that was a clever catch of Aunt Selina’s.  If only Aunt Hilary would try another like it.”