“And pray is their mother to contribute nothing toward the maintenance of her children?” asked Miss Payne, severely.

“Poor Ada! she has nothing of her own; it will be desperately hard on her;” and Katherine sighed deeply.  Her hearers little knew the remorse that afflicted her as she reflected on the false position into which she had drawn her sister-in-law.  What a rage Colonel Ormonde would be in!  How unwisely audacious it was in any mere mortal to play Providence for herself or her fellows!  But Miss Payne was speaking: 

“I don’t see the hardship; she has a husband behind her—­a rich man too.”

“For herself it is all well enough, but it must be very hard to think that one’s children are a burden on a reluctant husband; besides, the boys will feel it cruelly.  Oh, if I can only keep them with me!”

“I understand you,” cried Bertie.  “Would to God you could lay your burden at His feet who alone can help in time of need.  If you could——­”

He was interrupted by Francois, who brought a letter just arrived by the last post.

“It is from Mr. Newton,” exclaimed Katherine, opening it eagerly.  And having read it rapidly, she added, “You would like to hear what he says.”

“’MY DEAR MISS LIDDELL,—­As I cannot see you early to-morrow I will send you a report.  I had a long argument with your cousin after you left to-day, and although he is still in an unreasonable state of irritation against you and myself and every one, I do not despair of bringing him to a better and a juster frame of mind.  For the present it would be as well you did not meet.  I should advise your taking steps at once to remove your nephews from Sandbourne, and also, while you have money pay the quarter in advance, as you do not know how matters may turn.  It was a most fortunate circumstance that the house occupied by Miss Trant was purchased in her name, as Mr. Liddell cannot touch that, and if she is at all the woman you suppose her to be, she will pay you interest for your money.  If you could only persuade your cousin to let you see and make friends with this little daughter of his—­there lies the road to his heart.

“’Meanwhile say as little as possible to any one about this sudden change in your fortunes.  To Miss Payne you must, of course, explain matters; but she is a sensible, prudent woman.

    “’With sincere sympathy, believe me yours most truly,
                                                “‘W.  NEWTON.’”

“There is a gleam of hope, then,” exclaimed Bertie.

“I don’t know what you mean about hope.  At best a drop from about two thousand a year to a hundred and fifty is not a subject for congratulation.—­Well, Katherine, you are most welcome to stay here as my guest till you find something to do, for find something you must.”

“I knew you would be kind and true,” said Katherine, her voice a little tremulous, “and believe me I will not sit with folded hands.”