"Arnold Brinkworth and that hateful friend of his, Mr.Delamayn." Anne's head sank back once more on the chair.

She had found her way without exciting suspicion of the truth, to the one discovery which she had come to Windygates to make.

He was in Scotland again, and he had only arrived from London that morning.

There was barely time for him to have communicated with Craig Fernie before she left the inn--he, too, who hated letter-writing! The circumstances were all in his favor: there was no reason, there was really and truly no reason, so far, to believe that he had deserted her.

The heart of the unhappy woman bounded in her bosom, under the first ray of hope that had warmed it for four days past.