At Whitsand, Mrs. Damerel showed herself more than ever sweetly affable.  The season, she said, had been rather too much for her; she must take care of her health; besides—­and her smile played upon Crewe’s pulses—­there were troubles, cares, of which she could not speak even to so valued a friend.

‘I’m afraid you’re anxious about your nephew,’ murmured the man of business; though at the same time he suspected other things, for the lodgings in which he found Mrs. Damerel were certainly modest.

’Yes, I trouble a good deal about him.  If only dear Horace would be reconciled to me.  It seems such a long, long time.  You know that we have corresponded, but he refuses to see me.  It pains me deeply, Mr Crewe.’

And, after a silence: 

’There’s a special reason why I wish he would be friends with me,—­ a reason that concerns his own future.  Why should I not tell you?  I am sure you will respect my confidence.—­He will very soon become independent, and then I do so fear he may make a foolish marriage.  Yet all the time there is a chance waiting for him which would establish his fortune and his happiness for life.  Did he ever speak to you of Miss.  Chittle?’

‘I don’t remember the name.’

’Such a dear, sweet girl, and with really large means.  He was introduced to her during the happy time when we saw so much of each other, and she at once became interested in him.  Her dear mother assured me of it.  She is a very shy, retiring girl, and has refused many offers, before and since then.  Isn’t it a pity?  But I am losing all hope, and I so fear he may have formed some other attachment.’

Crewe went back to London resolved that Horace Lord should no longer ‘play the fool.’  And he was successful.  Horace had all but lost his resentment against Mrs. Damerel; he kept aloof out of stubborn conceit—­it had not dignity enough to be called pride; the same feeling that still estranged him from Nancy, though he would gladly have welcomed his sister’s offer of affection.  Persuaded, or commanded, by Luckworth Crewe, he took the train to Whitsand, and remained there for several days.  Mrs. Damerel wrote her friend in Farringdon Street a letter of gratitude, which acted upon him like champagne.  In a postscript she said:  ’Mrs. Chittle and her daughter have consented to come here for a week or two.  They will take rooms at the Imperial.’

Before the end of September, Horace Lord was engaged to Winifred Chittle.

Two years had made very little change in Miss.  Chittle’s appearance.  She was still colourless and abnormally shy, still had the look of one who sheds secret tears, and her repugnance to Society had, if possible, increased.  Horace thought her pretty, was impressed by her extreme gentleness and refinement, but she obtained no power over his emotions such as that formerly exercised by Fanny French.  It struck him, too, as a very strange thing, that a young lady with a large fortune should be willing to marry a man of his social insignificance.  ‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Damerel, ’it was a case of love at first sight.’  But Horace, who had gained some experience of life, could not believe this.  He wooed, and won; yet even when Winifred accepted him, he felt that she did it under some constraint.  Her pale face declared no happiness.