“If I cause this sort of embarrassment,” she said frankly, I think I oughtn’t to stay.”

“It’s easily put right, my dear girl.  Answer me a simple question.  If I lead Mr. Otway to suppose that his company for a few days is not disagreeable to us, shall I worry you, or not?”

“Not in the least,” was the equally direct answer.

“That’s better.  We’ve always got along so well, you know, that it’s annoying to feel there’s something not quits understood between us.  Then I shall send a note down to the inn where he’s staying, to appoint a meeting at Aysgarth to-morrow.  And I shall ask him to come here for the rest of the day, if he chooses.”

At nightfall, the rain-clouds spread from the hills of Westmorland, and there were some hours of downpour.  This did not look hopeful for the morrow, but, on the other hand, it promised a finer sight at the falls, if by chance the weather grew tolerable.  The sun rose amid dropping vapours, and at breakfast-time had not yet conquered the day, but a steady brightening soon put an end to doubt.  The friends prepared to set forth.

As they were entering the carriage there arrived the postman, with letters for both, which they read driving down to the dale.  One of Irene’s correspondents was her brother, and the contents of Eustace’s letter so astonished her that she sat for a time absorbed in thought.

“No bad news, I hope?” said Helen, who had glanced quickly over the few lines from her husband, now at Ostend.

“No, but startling.  You may as well read the letter.”

It was written in Eustace Derwent’s best style; really a very good letter, both as to composition and in the matter of feeling.  After duly preparing his sister for what might come as a shock, he made known to her that he was about to marry Mrs. John Jacks, the widow of the late member of Parliament.  “I can quite imagine,” he proceeded, “that this may trouble your mind by exciting unpleasant memories, and perhaps may make you apprehensive of disagreeable things in the future.  Pray have no such uneasiness.  Only this morning I had a long talk with Arnold Jacks, who was very friendly, and indeed could not have behaved better.  He spoke of you, and quite in the proper way; I was to remember him very kindly to you, if I thought the remembrance would not be unwelcome.  As for my dear Marian, you will find her everything that a sister should be.”  Followed sundry details and promise of more information when they met again in town.

“Describe her to me,” said Helen, who had a slight acquaintance with Irene’s brother.

“One word does it—­irreproachable.  A couple of years older than Eustace, I think; John Jacks was more than twice her age, so it’s only fair.  The dear boy will probably give up his profession, and become an ornament of society, a model of all the proprieties.  Wonderful I shan’t realise it for a few days.”