But as she spoke, the door opened, and a brisk-looking girl, in the fresh cotton dress, white apron and swowy cap of a hospital nurse entered the room.

"I'm so sorry, and Mr. O'Neill would be wild if he knew— which I'm glad to say he doesn't, for his gout makes him irritable and given to strong language, poor dear. It was absurd of the servant to put you in here. But she's a topsy-turvy person. So pray come with me, Miss O'Neill. You must want a wash up and a cup of tea." And she took Elizabeth's hand and tried

to draw her away.

But the girl refused to move, and looked inquiringly at her

uncle.

"Go, dear," he said hurriedly. There is no room for me here."

"And I'll be off to the hotel.

"I'm sorry to say there's not," the nurse answered. "The flat is very small."

Mr. Tiernan kissed his niece, and picking up his hat, whispered that he would look in again in a few hours, to see how things were with her, and in another moment he was gone.

"Mr. O'Neill will not appear for some hours yet," the nurse remarked, looking up from the newspaper which she had propped up against the tea-pot, and was reading in a leisurely fashion as she took her breakfast, when some twenty minutes later, after a bath and change of dress, Elizabeth found her way round the narrow passage into the dining-room.

'He's apt to be late of a morning."

Apt to be late?" Elizabeth stared. "I thought he was ill-dying."

The nurse put her finger to her nose, and winked; then, laughing, helped herself to a fresh supply of buttered eggs.

"Just now he's not quite so bad as that. The thought of seeing his dear niece has done him a world of good. But his heart is weak, and he must never be contradicted."

"I will try," Elizabeth said with a sinking heart, "to agree with all he says."

"Do. It will pay in the long run. He is deeply interested in you, and full of hope that, whilst you are here, all these very unpleasant suspicions will blow over. But do sit down and eat. You must be famished."

White to the lips, Elizabeth sank into a chair, and clenched her fists convulsively. She never felt so near to hating anyone so much as this smug, cheery young woman; and added to this feeling of dislike was one of bitter disappointment.

How did he did you," she stammered,

cruel, wicked suspicions?

hear of those

"Oh! my dear," airily, "the world is small. Nothing happens, even in the remotest part of Ireland, nowadays, that is not talked about. Why, there was a paragraph in the World last week about the whole affair."

"A paragraph!" Elizabeth quivered with anguish, "about me? Oh! my God! This is terrible!'

"

"Oh! cheer up. It didn't mention names-at least, not yours. It speaks of a scandal in high life, in the romantic and beautiful Rathkieran, hinted that the thief was a lovely daughter of the noble but now fallen family of the O'Neills. But don't take it too much to heart. It's nonsense, of course, and you'll live it down. A girl in our hospital once tooktook-but there don't look at me so ferociously, she was a bad lot-poor, plain, and without a friend. You are the lovely Miss O'Neill. So, of course, it's very different, and then you are innocent. Have you any idea who took the diamond cross ? "

"None. It" Elizabeth was quivering from head to foot," is a mystery."

"Ah!" laughingly," such things generally are, for a time. But now," handing her a cup of tea, "drink this. It will do you good."

Elizabeth drank the tea; but every morsel she tried to eat almost choked her, and after struggling for a while against her feelings of humiliation and misery she flung herself face downwards on the table and burst into an agony of weeping.

"Emotional and hysterical. Dear me ! cried the nurse, starting to her feet. "I've always heard Irish people were like that. I daresay her pride was hurt by something I said. Now, what could it have been? It's downright foolish to be so touchy. Thank heaven I'm not built that way. However, one thing is certain, and a great relief to me, this flat will not long hold John O'Neill and his niece. She'll go, and the old pleasant, easy-going régime will continue. It suits me wellbetter than anything I have ever had before-and who knows, may end in a real good and life-long billet. Many nurses marry their patients. Then why not me?'

Smiling complacently, she walked over to Elizabeth, and putting her hand, in a friendly way, upon the weeping girl's shoulder, said:

"You are over-tired and worn our by your long journey, and must have a good rest before you see or speak to Mr. O'Neill, who is a little trying. So come to your room, and go to bed."

Like a weary child, Elizabeth rose up, and allowed her to lead her where she would, and without a word of objection, submitted to being undressed and put to bed.

་་

Things will never come right," she told herself despairingly as she laid her head upon the pillow. "I am disgraced for ever. To think that anyone should dare to speak to me in such a way. Alas! how low I have fallen! Oh! the anguish of it is appalling. I shall not sleep. But 'tis something to escape that woman. If Uncle John is not ill, nothing will keep me here. I'll go back to Docwra to-morrow."

This thought quieted and consoled her. The little room was still and silent; the bed comfortable, and after a while she dropped off into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Some hours later, the girl awoke with a start, to find the electric light blazing in her eyes, and a maid-servant standing by the bedside.

"Mr. Tiernan is back and wishes to see you," she said. Shall he come here? Or will you dress and go to him in the dining-room?"

"Oh! I'll dress and go to him," cried Elizabeth, springing up with alacrity. "Pray tell him I shan't be long."

Her toilet was certainly a rapid one, and yet when some twenty minutes later, she ran lightly down the passage and opening the dining-room door, stood shy and abashed upon the threshold, the two men, near the fire, thought her a vision of loveliness.

Elizabeth had hurried over her dressing and flown from her toilet-table with eager feet, hoping and believing that she would find Michael Tiernan waiting for her, alone. But to her consternation and dismay, her Uncle John was sitting opposite to him, in a big, high-backed chair, his feet upon the fender. The men were conversing together in low tones, but turning they looked round in silence, as the door opened. Then, seeing that the girl paused, embarrassed and confused, John O'Neill gave a noisy laugh, and Michael Tiernan, smiling encouragingly, went forward, and taking her hand drew her across to her Uncle John's chair.

"By George! You're a credit to your country." John O'Neill said, giving her an approving glance, as he kissed her cheek. "I'm proud to see you, and to know that you're an O'Neill."

Elizabeth blushed deeply and raised her eyes shyly towards the big, burly man.

"

'I-I am glad to see you so well, Uncle John," she said, "and hope you will soon be quite yourself again. We were afraid you were—much worse, Uncle Mike and I ; and so come off at once when we got your telegram.

"Kind-very. But you mustn't judge by appearances; my heart is weak. Any excitement or contradiction might be fatal."

"So the nurse told me," replied Elizabeth, looking doubtfully at the big man.

"Well, mind you pay attention and follow her instructions. Nurse Lamb is a treasure. She's helped me round a difficult corner. Now she manages the entire flat."

Elizabeth smiled and glanced at Michael Tiernan. Το manage a flat of that size would not be so very difficult, she told herself. And Nurse Lamb was a clever and capable woman.

"I suppose your idea is," Michael Tiernan said, "now that Elizabeth is here, to dismiss this valuable nurse, and let the child take care of you?"

"Then you suppose quite wrong," snapped O'Neill. "I have other ideas entirely. Elizabeth is welcome. I want her for a while. I could not live without Nurse Lamb."

Elizabeth shivered. The thoughts of being shut up in this dingy flat with her uncle and his nurse were anything but pleasant. Still now that she was here, she felt that it was incumbent on her to stay for a week or so, anyway. So when bidding good-bye to Michael Tiernan, though she clung to him, her eyes full of tears, she would not hear of returning with him to Docwra next day.

"No, no. I have come; I will stay," she cried. ་་ Uncle John may be worse than he seems, and he wants me. It may not be for long. But I'll stay now."

"Very well, dear," kissing her; "I am sure you are right. That drawing-room appalled me this morning, but the diningroom is cosy and comfortable."

"So is my bedroom. So don't worry about that, Uncle Mike. I'll be comfortable enough."

"And if he takes a fancy to you, he may turn against that nurse," he remarked thoughtfully, "and that would be something gained."

"A great deal. Though," sighing, "I'm not hopeful."

And then, after a few more loving words of farewell at the door, a long list of affectionate messages to all at home, Elizabeth allowed Michael Tiernan to depart, and overcome with misery and desolation fled away to her own room.

CHAPTER XX

"You've been crying again," John O'Neill said abruptly, one day, about six months after Elizabeth's arrival in London. "Passmore says you look ill-less and less like your photograph that he admires so much. I put the change in you down to your

nonsensical fits of weeping. A few tears are all very well, but a constant flow must injure your eyes, dim your beauty, and that, all things considered, would mean destruction."

Elizabeth raised her head languidly. She had never troubled much about her looks, and just now it seemed to matter very little whether she was handsome or not. The mystery of the stolen cross was as far from being cleared up as ever. The suspicions and rumours of her guilt were, Nurse Lamb informed her, increasing every day. Letters from home, though the writers were careful, she could see, not to say a word that might increase her misery, did not tend to reassure her. They tried to put her off with expressions of loving encouragement, or avoided the subject. Not one of them declared the thing to have blown Even her Aunt Magdalen did not dare to say that it had been forgotten, and all urged her to stay where she was as long as she could.

over.

"I am branded for life," she would think despondently. "Wherever I go, whatever I do, I'll be looked upon as a thief. If I were rich, I'd fly to the most distant part of the world and hide myself for ever. Now all I can do is to drag on a wretched existence here. But so it must be, and, as far as I can, I'll cut myself off from every soul I know and love." And acting on this resolution, she refused to see Charles Arrowsmith, and very rarely answered his letters.

"When the mystery is solved, my name cleared," she would write, come to me. Till then we are best apart. Meeting is only anguish."

This attitude on the part of the girl he loved and believed in with all his soul was a sore trial to Charles; but wretched and unhappy though it made him, he could only submit.

"The mystery will be unravelled. Her name will be cleared," he would exclaim, and he spent his days and his nights thinking and dreaming of new ways of getting at the root of the miserable business, but without the smallest result. Think as he would, dream as he would, he came no nearer the solution of the mystery. It completely baffled him.

"Don't look at me like that," John O'Neill said testily, as he met the girl's beautiful sad eyes. "I hate gloomy people. And if you didn't steal that cross, why on earth need you fret ? I wouldn't care that," cracking his fingers, "if all the world rose up and called me a thief if I wasn't one. And if I was, and nobody tried to punish or send me to prison, I'd laugh and think myself jolly lucky. So for goodness' sake cheer up. Did Nurse tell you Bevan Passmore was coming to dinner to-night ?"

"Yes, she told me," in a tone of indifference. "I've put a few fresh flowers in the drawing-room."