that, even in so small a matter, she would be indebted to no one.

She counted the strokes from a neighbouring steeple.

Eleven, was it? or ten? She could not count. There was a strange buzzing noise in the room, which seemed to last a long time. All of a sudden it grew louder, like people talking by her door, inside the door! What was it?

Was this a vision, or

cry,

Visions do not catch people in their arms and 'How we have searched for you, my child!' It was Lady Tracy.

Some hours later Lady Tracy's carriage stopped at her own door in Westbourne Terrace, and from it Mr. Tracy's strong arms carried a bundle of shawls, with a pale wasted face in their midst, up the staircase to a room his care had seen prepared, while his mother had superintended the removal of the sick girl.

Lady Tracy to this hour blames herself for neglect of Honor, and shudders to think how nearly she came at the last too late.

But she was not altogether to blame, not at all perhaps, excepting that for the first time in

the lives of the mother and son, she had used concealment towards Mr. Tracy as to the Blakes' removal from Bayonne. The mother hoped that her son would forget the only girl he had ever wished to marry, as that girl did not return his affection; and Mr. Tracy, seeing how it pained his mother to talk of Honor, had forborne such talk.

He had not known that Honor was in London all these years. He too had not been there all the time. He had been absent a great deal on professional business, in a distant part of the country.

When at last he knew that the Blakes were in London he had sought them without success. Lady Tracy too had written twice to the last address Honor had given her, with no reply.

A coincidence of unfortunate changes in the family to whom that house belonged caused her letters to be mislaid, and all trace of Honor's address to be lost.

Lady Tracy had spent all this time abroad, first for health, afterwards for a reason I shall relate further on, and had only now returned to England. She had met Sir Edward and Lady

Wrexhill just before her return, and heard from them that Honor had written of Conny's coming marriage. To the address given in that letter Lady Tracy went, but only to be referred to the large hotel, where all clue to the Blakes had vanished.

At one time Lady Tracy was inclined to believe Honor had seen the folly of her ways, and gone with her fortunate sister to Australia. Mr. Tracy refused to believe this, and followed up old clues till he found Miss Chillingham. From her he had ascertained that Honor had not gone to Australia-that she was ill somewhere in that part of London, but Miss Chillingham could not say exactly where.

On that dismal Saturday afternoon he had been seeking her; and as soon as Miss Chillingham, on her return home, heard from Miss Groves that Miss Blake had been there and left her address, she sent it to Westbourne Terrace, and Lady Tracy had come in time.

The doctor assured her that Honor's recovery was only a work of care and time. In a few weeks she would be about again, and Lady Tracy thanked God with tears.

'She must never leave us again, mother, till she marries,' said Mr. Tracy. And when she is stronger you must find out all about that, and try to set it right.'

Lady Tracy kissed her son in that silent freemasonry with which hearts generous as theirs interpret each other's unspoken thoughts.

S

CHAPTER XIV.

THE HAVEN.

LOWLY, very slowly, Honor's strength came back; slower still was the return of her former energy.

Nature, long overtasked, claimed a time of reaction, and Lady Tracy insisted upon obedi

ence.

Honor found that it was laid upon her to do nothing except rest, and that rest was so delicious she did not oppose the edict.

Day after day she lay, in warm, luxurious idleness, in that cosy back drawing-room, where gay hothouse flowers simulated summer beside her, and cunningly-devised delicacies tempted her weak appetite.

There Lady Tracy sat by her side, weaving the knitting, which her injured arm, still too stiff