ary examination; and that he was particularly curious as to what would be done to Monsieur le Souffleur if he were convicted. She did not pay much heed to this at the time, as she was nerving herself to ask Conny some questions.

It was like probing a wound, but she did it; and found out that Constance and her mother were to stay with Mrs. Bertram at Twickenham for a fortnight or more, when the marriage would take place; and the happy pair, after a very brief honeymoon trip, would return to the house of the bridegroom's mother for the remaining short period of their stay in England.

'Spencer's mother wants him to be with her during the last few weeks,' said Conny, ‘and it will be nice for me. They go They go into very good society, and I shall like to be near London to get my outfit.'

'When do you leave England?' asked Honor. 'Sometime in November. I hope I shall not be sea-sick on the voyage!'

The next morning Constance, Charlie, and their mother left Bayonne. Honor's heart smote her for not feeling more than she did at

the parting from her sister. Conny was not at all affected by it.

Some days later Honor received a letter from Mrs. Blake informing her of their prosperous journey. Charlie they had left at Bordeaux, to proceed thence to Rochelle by a coasting steamer. Their passage across the Channel had been wonderfully fair, and Mr. Bertram had met them at Dover. The writer expatiated warmly on the kind reception Conny's future mother-in-law had given to her visitors, on the evident satisfaction with which she and his sisters had been introduced to his choice, and on the 'elegant style' in which Mrs. Bertram lived. They would not have liked an ugly bride so well, I daresay,' said poor Honor, with a great pang, for which she chid herself severely. She was never, never going to think on this subject again.

She resumed her tuitions, and when at home devoted herself to Newton and Emmy; and, by active performance of all her duties and constant hard work, sought, not without success, to deaden, if she could not cure, the pain in her heart.

CHAPTER VI.

HONOR TELLS THE WHOLE TRUTH.

NE evening as Honor was returning from her pupils, she had taken the

omnibus as far as the lane which led

to the garden gate, and on alighting from it she found herself face to face with Mr. Tom Tracy.

'I was just coming to see you all,' he said. 'So Conny, is gone away to be married!' Honor had compelled herself to write that news, though she feared in a very cold, forced manner, to Lady Tracy.

'How is Newton ?'

Not at all well.

He has been suffering

from one of his bad nervous attacks lately.

I

am obliged to leave him and Emmy alone all day; but I do not like it.'

'I shall be able to sit with him a good deal

while I am here.'

Why are you here?

'Wonderfully well.

How is

How is my aunt?'

She bore the journey to

Brighton, as I wrote to you, better than I hoped, and since then Isabel gives very good accounts of her.

'I saw her last Sunday. I ran down for a few hours, and I thought her certainly better. I have had to come over here about this wretched business of the forged cheque. They sent to take my mother's deposition in the proper form, and she was so much vexed about it all, especially as she feared you might be annoyed by the affair, that I offered to give my evidence in person, though I do not know what I can say in the matter, except that no one but a fool could have accepted that as my mother's signature. Monsieur Adolphe le Souffleur must, it seems to me, be either knave or fool, though, if he forged the cheque, he is both, as the imitation of my mother's signature is most clumsy.' You do not think he forged it?'

'Who else could have done so? My mother feels sure the cheque-book never was out of

her possession, except the day she left it at the

bankers'.

You remember she lost the key of

her desk before she left Anglet?'

'Yes.'

'Well, this key never has been found; so when I joined her at Paris, I got her a new cheque-book, and this one (taking it out) has lain in the desk till now. She had a duplicate desk-key in her davenport in Westbourne Terrace. As soon as I went up to London I got it out, and we opened the desk. this cheque-book is just as she left it.

You see

The last

sum drawn is "forty pounds," with your name below, and the date a week before she left Anglet.'

'That was the money she gave me to enable me to go to Cambo.'

'I know. Well, she never touched the cheque-book afterwards. But here, further on, you see a leaf has been cut out completely, so that it might easily escape notice. My mother says she cannot tell when this was donecertainly not by her.'

'Oh!' cried Honor, and she stood still in the road.