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“Mrs. Rock is lying down,” she explained, “but I thought that it might be something important, and you would not mind seeing me.”

“Not at all,” said Hewson, with what seemed to him afterwards superfluous politeness, and then they both waited until he could formulate his business, Miss Hernshaw drooping forward, and looking down in a way that he had found was most characteristic of her. “It is something important–at least it is important to me. Miss Hernshaw, may I ask whether you have done anything–it seems a very unwarrantable question–about St. Johnswort?”

“About buying it?”

“Yes. It will be useless to make any offer for it.”

“Why will it be useless to do that?”

“Because–because I have bought it myself.”

“You have bought it?”

“Yes; when he came to me last night, and made those representations–Well, in short, I have bought the place.”

“To save him from losing money by that–story?”

“Well–yes. I ought to have told you the fact this morning, as soon as you said you would buy the place. I know that you like people to be perfectly truthful. But–I couldn’t–without seeming to–brag.”

“I understand,” said Miss Hernshaw.

“I took the risk of your writing to St. John; but then I realized that if he answered and told you what I ought to have told you myself, it would make it worse, and I came back.”

“I don’t know whether it would have made it worse; but you have come too late,” said Miss Hernshaw. “I’ve just written to Mr. St. John.”

They were both silent for what Hewson thought a long time. At the end of it, he asked, “Did you–you must excuse me–refer to me at all?”

“No, certainly not. Why should I?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know that it would have mattered.” He was silent again, with bowed head; when he looked up he saw tears in the girl’s eyes.

“I suppose you know where this leaves me?” she said gently.

“I can’t pretend that I don’t,” answered Hewson. “What can I do?”

“You can sell me the place for what it cost you.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that,” said Hewson.

“Why do you say that? It isn’t as if I were poor; but even then you wouldn’t have the right to refuse me if I insisted. It was my fault that it ever came out about St. Johnswort. It might have come out about you, but the harm to Mr. St. John–I did that, and why should you take it upon yourself?”

“Because I was really to blame from the beginning to the end. If it had not been for my pitiful wish to shine as the confidant of mystery, nothing would have been known of the affair. Even when you asked me that night if it had not happened at St. Johnswort, I know now that I had a wretched triumph in saying that it had, and I was so full of this that I did not think to caution you against repeating what I had owned.”

“Yes,” said the girl, with her unsparing honesty, “if you had given me any hint, I would not have told for the world. Of course I did not think–a girl wouldn’t–of the effect it would have on the property.”

“No, you wouldn’t think of that,” said Hewson. Though he agreed with her, he would have preferred that she should continue to blame herself; but he took himself severely in hand again. “So, you see, the fault was altogether mine, and if there is to be any penalty it ought to fall upon me.”

“Yes,” said Miss Hernshaw, “and if there has been a fault there ought to be a penalty, don’t you think? It would have been no penalty for me to buy St. Johnswort. My father wouldn’t have minded it.” She blushed suddenly, and added, “I don’t mean that–You may be so rich that–I think I had better stop.”

“No, no!” said Hewson, amused, and glad of the relief. “Go on. I will tell you anything you wish to know.”