fessed it when I was wrong, let me at least record it when I did what was right-I decided instantly on giving up all further connexion with the recovery of the torn letter. If Eustace asked me the question, I was resolved to be able to answer truly:-'I have made the sacrifice that assures your tranquillity. When resignation was hardest, I have given way for my husband's sake.'

The motive which had determined me on returning to England, when I first knew that I was mother as well as wife, was still present to my mind when I arrived at this resolution. The one change in me was, that I now treated husband's tranquillity as the first and foremost consideration. In making this concession, I was not without hope to sustain me. Eustace might yet see the duty of asserting his innocence, in a new light-he might see it as a duty which the father owed to the child.

my

That morning, I wrote again to Mr. Playmore; telling him what my position was, and withdrawing, definitely, from all share in investigating the mystery which lay hidden under the dust-heap at Gleninch.

CHAPTER XLIV.

OUR NEW HONEYMOON.

IT is not to be disguised or denied that my spirits were depressed, on my journey to London.

To resign the one cherished purpose of my life, when I had suffered so much in pursuing it, and when I had (to all appearance) so nearly reached the realisation of my hopes, was putting to a hard trial a woman's fortitude, and a woman's sense of duty. Still, even if the opportunity had been offered

to me, I would not have recalled my letter to Mr. Playmore. 'It is done, and well done,' I said to myself; 'and I have only to wait a day to be reconciled to it—when I give my husband my first kiss.'

I had planned and hoped to reach London, in time to start for Paris by the night-mail. But the train was twice delayed on the long journey from the North; and there was no help for it but to sleep at Benjamin's villa, and to defer my departure until the morning.

It was, of course, impossible for me to warn my old friend of the change in my plans. My arrival took him by surprise. I found him alone in his library, with a wonderful illumination of lamps and candles; absorbed over some morsels of torn paper scattered on the table before him.

'What in the world are you about?' I asked.

Benjamin blushed-I was going to say, like a young girl. But young girls have given up blushing in these latter days of the age we live in.

'Oh, nothing, nothing!' he said, confusedly. notice it.'

Don't

He stretched out his hand to brush the morsels of paper off the table. Those morsels raised a sudden suspicion in my mind. I stopped him.

'You have heard from Mr. Playmore!' I said.

the truth, Benjamin. Yes, or No?'

'Tell me

Benjamin blushed a shade deeper, and answered 'Yes.' 'Where is the letter?'

'I musn't show it to you, Valeria.'

This (need I say it?) made me determined to see the letter. My best way of persuading Benjamin to show it to me was to tell him of the sacrifice that I had made to my husband's wishes. 'I have no further voice in the matter,' I added, when I had done. 'It now rests entirely with Mr. Playmore to go on or to give up; and this is my last opportunity of discovering what he really thinks about it. Don't

I deserve some little indulgence? Have I no claim to look at the letter?'

Benjamin was too much surprised, and too much pleased with me, when he heard what had happened, to be able to resist my entreaties. He gave me the letter.

Mr. Playmore wrote, to appeal confidentially to Benjamin as a commercial man. In the long course of his occupation in business, it was just possible that he might have heard of cases in which documents had been put together again, after having been torn up, by design or by accident. Even if his experience failed in this particular, he might be able to refer to some authority in London who would be capable of giving an opinion on the subject. By way of explaining his strange request, Mr. Playmore reverted to the notes which Benjamin had taken at Miserrimus Dexter's house, and informed him of the serious importance of 'the gibberish' which he had reported under protest. The letter closed by recommending that any correspondence which ensued should be kept a secret from me on the ground that it might excite false hopes in my mind if I was informed of it.

I now understood the tone which my worthy adviser had adopted in writing to me. His interest in the recovery of the letter was evidently so overpowering that common prudence compelled him to conceal it from me, in case of ultimate failure. This did not look as if Mr. Playmore was likely to give up the investigation, on my withdrawal from it. I glanced again at the fragments of paper on Benjamin's table, with an interest in them which I had not felt yet.

'Has anything been found in Gleninch?' I asked.

'No,' said Benjamin. 'I have only been trying experiments with a little note of my own, before I wrote to Mr. Playmore.'

'Oh, you have torn up your little note yourself, then?'

'Yes. And, to make it all the more difficult to put them

together again, I shook up the pieces in a basket. childish thing to do, my dear, at my age-'

It's a

He stopped, looking very much ashamed of himself. 'Well,' I went on; 'and have you succeeded in putting the pieces together again?'

'It's not very easy, Valeria. But I have made a beginning. It's the same principle as the principle in the "Puzzles" which we used to put together when I was a boy. Only get one central bit of it right, and the rest of the Puzzle falls into its place in a longer or a shorter time. Please don't tell anybody, my dear. People might say I was in my dotage.'

People might have said that, who did not know Benjamin as I knew him. I remembered my old friend's delight in guessing riddles in the columns of the cheap periodicals—and I perfectly understood the strong hold that the new 'Puzzle' had taken on his fancy. 'It's almost as interesting as solving Enigmas-isn't it?' I said slyly.

'It's

Enigmas!' Benjamin repeated, contemptuously. better than any Enigma I ever guessed yet. To think of that gibberish in my note book having a meaning in it, after all! I only got Mr. Playmore's letter this morning; and—I am really almost ashamed to mention it-I have been trying experiments, off and on, ever since. You won't tell upon me,

will you?'

I answered the dear old man by a hearty embrace. Now that he had lost his steady moral balance, and had caught the infection of my enthusiasm, I loved him better than ever!

But I was not quite happy, though I tried to appear so. Struggle against it as I might, I felt a little mortified, when I remembered that I had resigned all further connexion with the search for the letter at such a time as this. My one comfort was to think of Eustace. My one encouragement was to keep my mind fixed as constantly as possible on the bright

change for the better that now appeared in the domestic prospect. Here, at least, there was no disaster to fear; here I could honestly feel that I had triumphed. My husband had come back to me of his own free will; he had not given way, under the hard weight of evidence he had yielded to the nobler influences of his gratitude and his love. And I had taken him to my heart again-not because I had made discoveries which left him no other alternative than to live with me, but because I believed in the better mind that had come to him, and loved and trusted him without reserve. Was it not worth some sacrifice to have arrived at this result! -most true! And yet I was a little out of spirits. well! well! the remedy was within a day's journey. sooner I was with Eustace the better.

True

Ah,

The

Early the next morning, I left London for Paris, by the tidal-train. Benjamin accompanied me to the Terminus.

'I shall write to Edinburgh by to-day's post,' he said, in the interval before the train moved out of the station. 'I think I can find the man Mr. Playmore wants to help him, if he decides to go on. Have you any message to send, Valeria?'

'No. I have done with it, Benjamin; I have nothing more to say.'

'Shall I write and tell you how it ends, if Mr. Playmore does really try the experiment at Gleninch?'

I answered, as I felt, a little bitterly.

Yes,' I said. 'Write and tell me, if the experiment

fails.'

My old friend smiled. He knew me better than I knew myself.

'All right!' he said, resignedly. I have got the address of your banker's correspondent in Paris. You will have to go there for money, my dear; and you may find a letter waiting for you in the office, when you least expect it. Let

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