At last they went down to the breakfast-room, from which Bell had not moved.  Mrs Dale entered the room first, and Lily followed, hiding herself for a moment behind her mother.  Then she came forward boldly, and taking Bell in her arms, clasped her close to her bosom.

“Bell,” she said, “he has gone.”

“Lily!  Lily!  Lily!” said Bell, weeping.

“He has gone!  We shall talk it over in a few days, and shall know how to do so without losing ourselves in misery.  To-day we will say no more about it.  I am so thirsty, Bell; do give me my tea;” and she sat herself down at the breakfast-table.

Lily’s tea was given to her, and she drank it.  Beyond that I cannot say that any of them partook with much heartiness of the meal.  They sat there, as they would have sat if no terrible thunderbolt had fallen among them, and no word further was spoken about Crosbie and his conduct.  Immediately after breakfast they went into the other room, and Lily, as was her wont, sat herself immediately down to her drawing.  Her mother looked at her with wistful eyes, longing to bid her spare herself, but she shrank from interfering with her.  For a quarter of an hour Lily sat over her board, with her brush or pencil in her hand, and then she rose up and put it away.

“It is no good pretending,” she said.  “I am only spoiling the things; but I will be better to-morrow.  I’ll go away and lie down by myself, mamma.”  And so she went.

Soon after this Mrs Dale took her bonnet and went up to the Great House, having received her brother-in-law’s message from Bell.

“I know what he has to tell me,” she said; “but I might as well go.  It will be necessary that we should speak to each other about it.”  So she walked across the lawn, and up into the hall of the Great House.  “Is my brother in the book-room?” she said to one of the maids; and then knocking at the door, went in unannounced.

The squire rose from his arm-chair, and came forward to meet her.

“Mary,” he said, “I believe you know it all.”

“Yes,” she said.  “You can read that,” and she handed him Crosbie’s letter.  “How was one to know that any man could be so wicked as that?”

“And she has heard it?” asked the squire.  “Is she able to bear it?”

“Wonderfully!  She has amazed me by her strength.  It frightens me; for I know that a relapse must come.  She has never sunk for a moment beneath it.  For myself, I feel as though it were her strength that enables me to bear my share of it.”  And then she described to the squire all that had taken place that morning.

“Poor child!” said the squire.  “Poor child!  What can we do for her?  Would it be good for her to go away for a time?  She is a sweet, good, lovely girl, and has deserved better than that.  Sorrow and disappointment come to us all; but they are doubly heavy when they come so early.”

Mrs Dale was almost surprised at the amount of sympathy which he showed.