Bella found the interviews with Cyril eminently unsatisfactory. It was perfectly plain that he entertained strong suspicions regarding the unknown person whom she termed his double. But even when questioned point-blank he declined to explain himself. Yet if Lister knew of someone who resembled him more or less closely he surely could place his hand on that someone. When he did so the assassin of Captain Huxham would speedily be found. This being the case it was strange that Cyril should hesitate, and again and again Bella questioned him bluntly, only to find him more determined than ever to keep his own counsel. Under these circumstances it was useless to prolong the conversation, and the girl left the cottage feeling extremely despondent. It seemed to her that the problem would never be solved, in spite of the certainty she entertained that Cyril could solve it if he so wished.

Nor did Bella feel any brighter when she returned to the Manor, for Mrs. Coppersley chose to take umbrage at her niece's absence. Bella declined to say where she had been, and dismissed the matter in a few cold words. Not feeling sure of her ground, Mrs. Coppersley retreated for the time being, but next day returned to the attack with the evident object of making the Manor-house too hot for the girl. Bella was strong enough to quell open mutiny on the part of her aunt, but she could not defend herself against incessant nagging. Since the death of her brother, Mrs. Coppersley had become as bold as hitherto she had been meek, and in many skilful ways contrived to make her niece feel thoroughly uncomfortable. As Bella had quite enough to bear without being taxed further with these petty worries she became restive, and on the third day of hostilities demanded what her aunt meant by behaving so aggressively. Mrs. Coppersley, better at ambushes than in open warfare, would have shirked the battle, but Bella forced the quarrel since it was absolutely necessary to bring matters to a head.

"You never leave me alone, Aunt Rosamund," she complained wearily.

"Because you are a drone," retorted Mrs. Coppersley. "You eat, yet you do not work. And as St. Paul says——"

"I don't wish to hear what St. Paul says, thank you."

"It would be better if you did. I have your good at heart."

"Nothing of the sort; you merely wish to get rid of me."

Mrs. Coppersley grew vividly red, but did not make any denial. "Why should I not?" she cried loudly. "You treat me as though I were dirt under your feet, miss. Who are you to behave like this, I should like to know?"

"I am my father's daughter," said Bella, very distinctly, "who have been cheated out of my inheritance."

"I'll make you prove those words," said Mrs. Coppersley, turning from scarlet to white. "Go and see Mr. Timson in Cade Lane, and you will find everything has been done to make the will legal."

"I am quite sure of that, Aunt Rosamund, as you are too clever a woman to risk losing your spoil. But you have cheated me by inducing my father to disinherit me in your favour."

"I did not! I did not!" Mrs. Coppersley stamped wrathfully. "Your father borrowed money from me to pay for the farm ten years ago. I lent it on condition that I inherited Bleacres. I told you this before, and——"

"That will do," interrupted Bella imperiously. "I shall see Mr. Timson, and learn for certain if what you have told me is correct. Meantime, as it is quite impossible for me to remain in the house with you, I shall go and stay with Dora Ankers."

"She won't have you," taunted Mrs. Coppersley.

"I have already arranged to live with her until I am married."

"Then you are going to marry that wastrel?"

"I don't know who you mean."

"Mr. Lister, the man who was so hated by your father."

"Whether I marry Mr. Lister or not is my business," said Bella, drily; "and so far as I can learn, my father had no reason to hate him. Do you know why he did so, Aunt Rosamund?"

"No," said Mrs. Coppersley reluctantly, for she would have dearly liked to put a spoke in Bella's wheel, as the saying is. "Jabez's life before he came here was not known to me. But I am quite sure that it was shady, and——"

Bella interrupted again. "Leave the dead alone. You are benefiting by my father's work, whatever it might have been, and have no call to abuse him."

"I only got my own money back," said Mrs. Coppersley defiantly; "but if you leave my house you leave it for ever. I wash my hands of you."

"I am quite content that it should be so," said Bella icily; "but I can't leave my home penniless. Give me fifty pounds until such time as I can see Mr. Timson and learn how I stand."

"What?" Mrs. Coppersley became shrill in her anger. "Give you money to bring lawsuits against me?"

Bella looked at her very directly. "If everything is fair and square, as you say," she observed severely, "there is no danger of lawsuits. Come, Aunt Rosamund, I wish to leave Bleacres this afternoon. Give me the money."

"No!" shouted the older woman, and sat down with folded arms and a dogged expression. "You get no money from me."

Bella was perplexed. She could not use violence, and her aunt seemed very determined. For the moment she was nonplussed, and scarcely knew what to say. But at this moment Henry Vand entered. The conversation had taken place in the study, and Vand came into the room from the hall. Apparently he had just entered the house. In fact, he explained as much, and also confessed calmly that he had listened.

"I heard your voices raised," he said quietly, "and knowing Rosamund's violent temper I waited, so that I might interfere on your behalf, Miss Huxham."

"I want no interference," said Mrs. Coppersley jealousy. "I can manage my own business."

"That may be," said the young man drily, "but you seem to forget that I am your husband."

"Husband!" echoed Bella amazed.

"Yes," said Vand; while Mrs. Coppersley—or rather Mrs. Vand—looked sullenly at the floor. "We have been married for three months, secretly."

"Why secretly?" asked Bella, still wondering at the news.

"That's our business," said her aunt insolently.

"Pardon me, Rosamund," said Vand, who was as polite as his wife was rude. "It is only fair that Miss Huxham should understand the position."

"Have it your own way, then," muttered Mrs. Vand, tossing her head, "only make her understand that I have had enough of her airs and graces. She can clear out of our house as soon as she likes, and leave us to ourselves."

"She is willing to do that for fifty pounds," said Vand politely.

"I shan't give her that amount."

"You are quite right, Rosamund; you will give Miss Huxham a cheque for one hundred pounds."

"Are you out of your senses?" raged his wife, starting to her feet.

"I don't want so much as that, Mr. Vand," said Bella, pleased to think that her new uncle by marriage was taking her part.

"It is a mere question of justice, Miss Huxham. My wife has inherited the Solitary Farm, so it is only right that she should recompense you."

"Mind," said Bella, suddenly, and thinking that this might be a bribe, "if I find anything wrong when I see Mr. Timson I shall bring an action."

"I told you so, Henry," remarked Mrs. Vand triumphantly.

"I have seen the will and the lawyer," said the man quietly, "and everything is correct. There is no flaw. With regard to my marriage, Miss Huxham, I agreed to a secret ceremony since your late father was opposed to my courtship of your aunt. But the time has now come to proclaim the marriage, so I have brought my luggage here to-day."

"And that is why my aunt wishes me to leave the house," said Bella, with a curling lip.

Vand, who was much the most self-controlled of the trio, looked at her very straightly. "You can come or stay as you please," he said gently. "I am quite willing that you should remain."

"Oh," cried Mrs. Vand furiously, "so you want her to remain. Perhaps you are in love with her; perhaps you would like to——"

"Aunt," interrupted Bella, blushing with annoyance, "how can you talk so foolishly. Mr. Vand loves you, or he would not have married you. As for me, I am going away to Dora's as soon as you give me the money."

"Not one penny."

Vand gazed steadily at the furious woman. In spite of his club foot he was certainly handsome, and looked as refined as his wife looked coarse. He must have had good blood in his veins in spite of his lowly birth, and, without appearing to do so, managed, on this occasion at least, to dominate the more animal nature. Bella neither liked nor disliked the cripple, but she could not help admiring the skilful way in which he mastered her aunt. Perhaps he magnetised her with his large blue eyes or the calmness of his manner may have had a soothing effect. But, whatever was the cause, Mrs. Vand winced under his silent gaze and lowered her voice, as she consented unexpectedly to do what he suggested. "I shall give Bella a cheque for one hundred pounds on condition that she does not trouble me again," she grumbled, going to the desk with an affectation of generosity.

"You seem to hate me so much that there is no need for me to see you any more," said Bella bitterly.

"But I warn you that if the will is not right I shall take steps to recover the farm, which I look upon as my property."

"It is not your property, it is mine; and Jabez's income also," said Mrs. Vand, looking up from the cheque she was writing, "and if you don't promise to leave things alone you shan't have the money."

"I refuse to sell my heritage for a mess of potage," cried Bella, impetuously.

"There is no need that you should," interposed Vand gently. "Rosamund, sign the cheque."

Mrs. Vand scowled, hesitated, but finally did as she was ordered, throwing it on the floor afterwards in silent fury. Her husband picked it up and handed it, with a bow, to Bella.

"There you are, Miss Huxham," he said with marked courtesy. "I hope you will be happy at Miss Ankers'. So far as I am aware, everything has been left to my wife, but later I shall endeavour to make some arrangement with Rosamund by which you will be benefited. And I beg of you not to leave this house in anger."

"I shall make no arrangement, now or hereafter," cried Mrs. Vand. "Bella has received all that she will receive. For my part, I'm glad to see the back of her," and with a red face and a scornful look she flounced out of the room, much to the girl's relief.

"I wonder why my aunt hates me so?" she asked Vand with a piteous look. "I have never done her any harm."

"She only gives way to her temper, Miss Huxham," said the cripple soothingly, "and doesn't mean half she says. Don't trouble any more about Rosamund. I am your friend. You will shake hands, will you not?"

Bella did not hesitate to take the hand extended to her, as she admitted silently that if Vand had not interposed she would not have received the money. Besides, her new relative throughout had proved himself to be so courteous and thoughtful that she had no reason to mistrust him. Howsoever Mrs. Vand had become possessed of the farm and income of the late Captain Huxham, her husband was at least innocent. "But I do not bind myself to take no steps if necessary to recover Bleacres," Bella warned the young man, as she shook his hand. "You understand that?"

"Perfectly; and indeed, if Rosamund has come wrongfully by the estate she must surrender it. Still, Miss Huxham, you cannot expect me to doubt my own wife, especially as Rosamund has been good enough to marry a cripple such as I am."

"I think, without flattery to you," said Bella, walking towards the door, "that my aunt has got the best of the bargain," and the last thing she saw when throwing a glance over her shoulder was Vand blushing crimson at the unusual compliment. But Bella meant what she said, as even ease and wealth were hardly purchased by marriage with a furious, coarse-natured woman such as Rosamund Vand. The girl wondered how she had ever come to have such an aunt; she might have wondered also how she ever came to have a parent so common and ruffianly as her late father had been.

That same afternoon Bella packed all her belongings and had them carried by Tunks to the hither side of the boundary channel. There they were placed on a hand-cart and wheeled to Miss Ankers' cottage. Mrs. Vand discreetly kept out of the way when Bella departed, or perhaps her husband insisted that she should not drive forth the girl with insults, as she certainly would have done. At all events she remained invisible, and it was Vand alone who said good-bye to the homeless girl. Bella felt a pang when she looked back along the narrow path of the corn-fields to see a stranger standing in the doorway. She was certain of one thing—that Mrs. Vand had found a master, and that for all his quietness and polite ways her husband would not allow her to have her own way as she had hitherto done. Doubtless her aunt had deemed Vand would be as harmless and innocuous as the scarlet-coated scarecrow, of which Bella caught a last glimpse; but there was no doubt in the girl's mind as to which of the happy pair would rule the house. Mrs. Vand's coarse bullying could do very little against the quiet persistence of a polite man, who was determined to govern. So far as Bella knew from Huxham, her aunt had ruled her first husband with a rod of iron; now she was about to be governed in her turn. "And much good may it do her," thought Bella, who was much too human to be forgiving.

Dora was delighted that her best friend should board with her, and received Miss Huxham with open arms. After tea, the two arranged Bella's bedroom to their satisfaction and unpacked her boxes. Then they had a talk as to the advisability of going to Cade Lane for the purpose of questioning Mr. Timson regarding the will. "You should attend to the matter at once, my dear," said Dora, who was extremely practical for all her doll-like looks. "Lose no time, for I am certain that your aunt has employed some trickery in getting possession of the property."

"I shall consult Cyril first," said Bella wearily, and little more was said on that night, as the girl was quite worn out with the events of the day.

Next morning Miss Ankers had to teach in school as usual, and Bella was left to her own devices. She assisted Dora's small servant to tidy the rooms and make the beds, after which she put on her hat and walked into the village to make some small purchases. Also—and this was by Dora's advice—she saw the manager of the small local bank, and opened an account with him by paying in her aunt's cheque for one hundred pounds. The manager courteously promised to send the cheque to London, and to notify Bella when it was honoured. Miss Huxham was somewhat relieved at this promise, as she did not trust her aunt, and knew that she was quite capable of stopping the cheque, especially when she had not given it with a good grace. But Bella need not have troubled her head; the cheque was duly honoured, as Mr. Henry Vand saw to that.

Having dispatched her business, Bella strolled out of the village, and found herself on the common. This was a vast expanse overgrown with gorse and broom, and with a miniature forest of saplings springing from an undergrowth of fern and bracken. Through this fairy wood, as some people called it, narrow paths were cut, so that one could wander for hours in and out of a kind of natural labyrinth. The saplings were scarcely six feet in height, so that an extra tall man could look over the green sea of vegetation. Bella loved this place, as she had often sauntered therein with Dora, and indeed with Cyril also. The wonderful tangle of fern and bracken and many-hued grasses, the brilliant colouring of flowers, and the fecund blossoming of the golden broom, made the common a home of delight. Bella walked meditatively through the cool green paths, and emerged at intervals on to wide, waste spaces where the purple heather grew thickly. Butterflies floated through the still air, bumble-bees visited the flowers, and the birds sang as in an enchanted garden. Bella stopped to hear the silvery carol of an invisible lark, for the bird, raining its music lavishly from the sky, was quite hidden by the dazzle of sunshine. As she paused, she felt a light hand touch her shoulder, and turned with a glad cry.

"Oh, Cyril, how you startled me!" she said, pleased with the unexpected encounter. "I am so glad to see you, dear. Have you heard——"

Lister threw himself contentedly on the fragrant heather, and drew Bella down by his side. "I have heard, and I am very angry," he said hotly. "Dear, what does your aunt mean by treating you in this way?"

Bella shrugged her shoulders. "I expect she wants the Manor to herself now that she is married. Who told you?"

"Miss Ankers. I met her coming out of school. She told me that you were returning to dinner, so I came to fetch you. I guessed that I should find you here, and so——" he waved his hand lazily.

"I am glad to see you," said Bella again, "but you look ill, dear."

Cyril shrugged his shoulders. "I am worried about this mysterious double of mine," he muttered, and lying full length on the burnt grass he tilted his hat over his eyes. He did indeed look ill, for his face was very pale and lines appeared on his forehead which should not have been there at his age. In some extraordinary way he seemed to have aged, as it were, in a moment. "I am very much worried," he sighed; "everything is going wrong. Now this abominable treatment to which your aunt has subjected you to makes things doubly difficult for me."

"In what way?" asked Bella, sitting up and hugging her knees.

"I don't know how to move," explained the young man. "While you were safe at Bleacres with your aunt I could wait. But now that you have no home, I should like to marry you at once." He sighed again. "But that is impossible, dear, owing to circumstances."

"You need not trouble about me," said Bella promptly. "I have got one hundred pounds, and I am quite glad to be away from Aunt Rosamund's incessant nagging. I can live with Dora and pay my way until such time as you can marry me."

"Heaven only knows when I can marry you!" groaned Cyril dismally.

"I can tell you," said Bella, removing the hat from his anxious face in order to look into his eyes; "as soon as you are frank with me."

"I have come to be frank with you," said Lister reluctantly.

"It sounds like it."

"My dear"—he sat up to speak more forcibly—"when I am frank you will be as unhappy as I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Mean? I scarcely know what I mean—that is, I scarcely dare put my thoughts into words. Of course, I may be wrong. I sincerely trust that I am wrong. All the same, there is no denying that I have grave grounds for my belief."

"What belief?" Bella asked the question in scared tones, as Cyril looked so wretched.

He did not reply at once, but moved restlessly about, evidently bracing himself to speak plainly. Even when he did open his mouth he was evasive. "I have an idea that my double—that is, the man who was mistaken by you and Pence for me on that night—might be—oh!"—he rested his head between his hands with a groan—"I dare not tell you who he might be."

"You have some idea?"

"Yes; I wish I hadn't."

"Is it anyone I know?"

"No."

"Is it——"

"Oh, my dear! don't ask questions which I dare not answer."

"You must answer," said Bella firmly. "I must share your griefs as well as sorrows. Tell me everything. Go on, Cyril, tell me quickly!"

"Hush!" Lister started to his feet with an alarmed look. "What's that? I swear that I heard a rustling in the underwood. Someone is listening." He glanced around anxiously, looking pale and nervous. Bella rose at the same time and caught his hand to give him courage, although she could not understand what he meant by his words and looks.

But the two had not to wait long. A distant crackling was heard, and in a moment or so a tall bulky man stepped from out the underwood.

"Durgo!" breathed Bella, recognising the negro.

He ran towards Cyril and dropped on his knees. "My master!" he cried; then leaped up. "You are not Edwin Lister," he growled with widely open eyes.

"My father! my father!" groaned Cyril in despair. "I knew it; I was certain of it. Now I know the worst," and he sat down to hide his face.