“If you will allow me to come some Sunday——­”

“Certainly.  You will sympathise with Miss Payne.  She shares your deep-rooted distrust of your fellow-creatures.  Yet even she has some faint faith in Rachel Trant.”

“That is the best symptom about the affair I have yet heard of.  By-the-bye, this Miss Payne has made you comfortable? she has been a successful experiment?”

“Very successful indeed.  I quite like her, and respect her; but I shall not stay longer than the time I agreed for.  I want to make a home for the boys and myself.”

“What!  Will Mrs. Ormonde give them up?”

“Not avowedly, but they will ultimately glide into my hands.”

“I trust you will not regret the charge you are taking on yourself.”

“I do not fear failure.  These children are a great source of pleasure to me.”

A few more words, a promise on Mr. Newton’s part to hurry matters, and Katherine, bidding him adieu for the present, descended to the brougham which she usually hired for distant expeditions.  Ordering the coachman to stop at Howell& James’, Katherine leaned back and reflected on the interview with Mr. Newton.  No doubt he thought he had given her a good deal of curious information.  If he only knew what a living lie she was!  Her duplicity met her at every turn, and cried shame upon her.  However, she had the pardon and permission of him against whom she had chiefly offended; that counted for much.  Still, it was too hard a punishment that the ghost of her transgression should thus cry out against her, and she had done her best to rectify it.  She felt profoundly depressed.  It was an effort to execute the commissions intrusted to her by Miss Payne.  These performed, she was leaving the shop, when a gentleman who was passing rapidly almost ran against her.  He paused and raised his hat as if to apologize.  It was Errington.

“Miss Liddell!” he exclaimed, a startled, pleased look animating his eyes.  “I understood you were out of town.  I hardly hoped to meet you again.”

Katherine flushed up, and then grew white.  “I have been out of town ever since—­” Since what?—­that turning-point in her life when she confessed all to him?

“And I have been in town,” rejoined Errington.  “It is not nearly so bad as some people imagine.  Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I am always with Miss Payne, in Wilton Street.”

“I remember.  But I am keeping you standing.  May I come and see you?”

“Oh no; I would rather not,” cried Katherine, with an irresistible impulse which she regretted the next moment.

“You are always frank,” said Errington, with a kind smile, yet in a disappointed tone.  “I will not intrude, then.  How are your nephews, and Mrs. Ormonde?  I seem to have lost sight of every one, for I have become a very busy man.”

“Yes, I know,” she returned, her color going and coming, her heart beating so fast she could hardly speak.  “I must seem so rude!  But I have read some of your papers in The Age.  It must, indeed, take time and study to produce such articles.”