Mrs. Heron's pretty, pale face wore an unaccustomed flush; and as she looked at Elizabeth the tears came into her blue eyes, and she pressed them mildly with her handkerchief. Elizabeth waited in patience; she was not sure of the side from which the attack would be made, but she was sure that it was coming. Percival, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, leaned against a sideboard, and looked at her with disfavour.

She was paler than usual, and there were dark lines beneath her eyes.

What made her look like that! Percival thought to himself. One might fancy that she had been lying awake all night, if the thing were not (under the circumstances) well-nigh impossible! But perhaps it was only her ill-fitting, unbecoming, old, serge gown that made her look so pale.

Percival was in the humour to see all her faults and defects that morning.

"Why do you carry that great boy about?" he said, almost harshly. "You know that he is too big to be carried. Do put him down."

"Yes, put him down, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Heron, still pressing her handkerchief to her eye. "I am sure I have no desire to inflict any hardship upon you. If you devoted yourself to my children, I thought that it was from choice and because you had an affection for your uncle's family. But you seem to have had no affection--no respect--no confidence----"

A gentle sob cut short her words.

"What have I done?" said Elizabeth. Her face had turned a shade paler than before, but betrayed no sign of confusion. "Lie still, Jack; I do not mean to put you down just yet. Indeed, I think I had better carry you upstairs again." She left the room swiftly, pausing only at the door to add a few words: "I will be down again directly. I shall be glad if Percival will wait."

There was a short silence, during which Mrs. Heron dried her eyes, and Percival stared uncomfortably at the toe of his left boot.

"Surely Elizabeth has a right to her own secrets," said Kitty, from her station on the hearth. But nobody replied.

Presently Elizabeth came down again, with a couple of letters in her hand. It seemed almost as if she had been upstairs to rub a little life and colour into her face, for her cheeks were carnation when she returned, and her eyes unusually bright.

"Will you tell me what I have done that distresses you?" she said, addressing herself steadily to Mrs. Heron, though she saw Percival glance eagerly, hungrily, towards the letters in her hand.

"Indeed, I have no right to be distressed," replied Mrs. Heron, still, however, in an exceedingly hurt tone. "Your own affairs are your own property, my dear Lizzie, as Kitty has just remarked; but, considering the care and--the--the affection-lavished upon you here----"

She stopped short; Percival's dark eyes were darting their angry lightning upon her.

"A care and affection," he said, "which condemned her to the nursery in order that she might indulge her extreme love for children, and save you the expense of a nursery-maid."

"You have no right to make such a remark, Percival!" exclaimed his step-mother, feebly, but she quailed beneath the sneer instead of resenting it. Elizabeth turned sharply upon her cousin.

"No," she said, "you have no right to make such a remark. As you know very well, I had no friends, no money, no home, when Uncle Alfred brought me here. I was a beggar--I should have starved, perhaps--but for him. I owe him everything--and I do not forget my debt."

"Everything," said Percival, incisively, "except, I suppose, your confidence."

She turned away and walked up to Mrs. Heron's sofa. Here her manner changed, it became soft and womanly; her voice took a gentler tone.

"What is it, Aunt Isabel?" she said. "I am ready to give you all the confidence that you wish for. I will have no secrets from you."

"Oh, then, Lizzie, is it true?" said Kitty, upsetting the cat in her haste, and flying across the room to her cousin's side, while Mrs.

Heron, taken by surprise, did nothing but sob helplessly and hold Elizabeth's firm, white hand in a feeble grasp. "Is it really true? Have you inherited a great fortune? Are you going to be very rich?"

Elizabeth made a little pause before she answered the question. "Brian Luttrell is dead," she said at last, rather slowly. "And I am very sorry."

"And the Luttrells are your cousins? And you are the heiress after them?"

"Yes."

"But when did you know this first?" said Kitty, anxiously looking up into her tall cousin's face.

"Yes, when did you know it first?" repeated Mrs. Heron, with a weak and sighing attempt at solemnity.

"I knew that I was the Luttrells' cousin all my life," said Elizabeth.

There was a touch of perversity in her answer.

"Yes--yes. But when did you know that you were the next heir--or heiress? You cannot have known that all your life," said Mrs. Heron.

"I did not know that until a few days ago. I had a letter from a lawyer when Brian Luttrell went abroad. Mr. Brian Luttrell wished him to communicate with me and to tell me----"

"Well?" said Mrs. Heron, curiously. "To tell you what?"

"That it was probable that the property would come to me," Elizabeth answered, for the first time with some embarrassment, "as he did not intend to marry. And that he wished to settle a certain sum upon me--in case I might be in want of money now."

"And that was a fortnight ago?" said Percival.

"Yes," said Elizabeth, without looking at him, "nearly a fortnight ago."

"This is very interesting," said Mrs. Heron, who was languidly brightening as she heard Elizabeth's story and recognised the fact that substantial advantages were likely to accrue to the household from Elizabeth's good fortune. "And of course you accepted the offer, Lizzie dear? But why did you not tell us at once?"

"I waited until things should be settled. The matter might have fallen through. It did not seem worth while to mention it until it was settled," said Elizabeth.

"How much did he offer you? Mr. Brian Luttrell must have been a very generous man."

"I think he was--very generous," said Elizabeth, looking up warmly. "I considered the matter for some time, and I wished that I could accept his kindness, but----"

"You don't mean to say that you refused it?"

"I did not refuse it altogether," explained Elizabeth, her face glowing.

"I told him my circumstances, and all that my uncle had done for me, and that if he chose to place a sum of money at my uncle's disposal--I thought that, perhaps, it would be only right, and that I ought not to place an obstacle in the way. But I could not take anything for myself."

There was a little pause.

"Oh, Lizzie, how good you are!" cried Kitty, softly.

Percival took a step nearer; his face looked very dark.

"And, pray, what did the lawyer say to your proposition?" he inquired.

"He said he must communicate with Mr. Brian Luttrell, but he thought that there would be no objection to it on his part," said Elizabeth.

"But he had not time to do so, you see. Brian Luttrell is dead. Here are all the letters about it, Aunt Isabel, if you want to see them. I was going to speak to Uncle Alfred this very day."

"Well, Lizzie," said Mrs. Heron, taking the letters from her niece's hand, "I am glad that we are honoured by your confidence at last. I think it would have been better, however, if you had told us a little earlier of poor Mr. Luttrell's kindness, and then other people could have managed the business for you. Of course, it would have been repugnant to your feelings to accept money for yourself, and another person could have accepted it in your name with a much better grace."

"But that is what I wanted to avoid," said Elizabeth, with a smile. "I would not have taken one penny for myself from Mr. Brian Luttrell, but if he would have repaid my uncle for part of what he has done for me----"

Her sentence came to an abrupt end. Percival had turned aside and flung himself into an arm-chair near the fire. He was the picture of ill-humour; and something in his face took away from Elizabeth the desire to say more. Mrs. Heron read the letters complacently, and Kitty put her arm round her cousin's, waist and tried to draw her towards the hearth-rug for a gossip. But Elizabeth preserved her position near Mrs.

Heron's sofa, although she looked down at the girl with a smile.

"I know what Isabel meant--what we all meant," said Kitty, "when we were so disagreeable to you a little time ago, Lizzie. We all felt that we could not for one moment have kept a secret from you, and we resented your superior self-control. Fancy your knowing all this for the last fortnight, and never saying a word about it! Tell me in confidence, Lizzie, now didn't you want to whisper it to me, under solemn vows of secrecy?"

"I'm afraid you would never have kept your vows," said Elizabeth. "I meant to tell you very soon, Kitty."

"And so you are a rich woman, Elizabeth!" observed Mrs. Heron, putting down the letters and smoothing out her dress. "Dear me, how strangely things come round! Who would have dreamt, ten years ago, that you would ever be richer than all of us--richer than your poor uncle, who was then so kind to you! Some people are very fortunate!"