On entering the house, Kitty went at once to her own room, though she knew Helen Eversleigh would think it strange, perhaps even unkind. "But she will never imagine why it is," thought the girl; "she will suppose Bennet had something painful to tell me about my father."

Kitty Thornton was a brave woman, and she had brains as well as courage; she sat down in her room, and deliberately set herself to consider the situation in which she now found herself. The conversation with Bennet had occupied but a short while, and she had hardly realized all it meant for her. Now, sitting there quietly, she went over it again. On the face of it, what he had told her about Eversleigh seemed improbable in the extreme, but she recalled the positiveness of his assertions and the air of truthfulness and certainty with which he had made them. It was clear to her that Bennet believed he did hold the fate of Eversleigh in his hands.

Then she thought of Francis Eversleigh. In her mind's eye she saw him as he had appeared to her in her girlhood—handsome, generous, large-hearted, kindness itself. Her instinct told her that he was not formed of the stuff out of which the thief and the swindler were made. And she recalled Bennet's words, "Mr. Eversleigh put the blame of the sale on his dead partner Silwood"—Silwood, the man in whose chambers her father's body had been found; yes, Kitty had no doubt whatever that if any one was guilty, he was the criminal. She remembered Silwood's appearance very well, and she contrasted it with that of Eversleigh, to the great advantage of the latter. It was incredible that Eversleigh was a bad man. But though not actually guilty, was he a party to the guilt of Silwood all along, and therefore guilty in that sense? Or had he discovered what Silwood had done only after Silwood's death? Well, she must wait until she had heard what Francis Eversleigh had to say.

For, after all, these were minor points. In all likelihood, she concluded, Eversleigh would confirm Bennet's statements. If so, what then?

And, now, Kitty Thornton had need of all her courage.

The fate of the Eversleighs was in her hands; she could save them, but at what a price!

The sacrifice of her own happiness.

She could save them, but only by condemning herself to misery for the rest of her life.

As she sat thinking, thinking of the wretchedness that must be hers as the wife of Bennet, the poor girl closed her eyes, as if thus she could shut out that blank and dreary prospect. She had no illusions as to the nature of the man. In her heart she called him a bully and a brute, and she knew he was a desperate gambler. Her life with him could be nothing but one long horror.

"I cannot marry him," she said, rebelling against the harshness and bitterness of the dilemma thrust upon her.

"But what then?" she asked herself.

She knew Bennet would keep his word did she refuse to marry him; Francis Eversleigh would be arrested, and he and his family overwhelmed in one common ruin.

"How can I permit it?" she said.

Hitherto she had striven to keep the thought of her lover, Gilbert, out of her mind, so as to be able to reason more clearly, but in its background Gilbert had always been. She loved him with her whole heart, and it was seldom that, consciously or unconsciously, she was not thinking about him. She had looked forward with pride and joy to being his wife. And now?

Bennet had declared that Gilbert's father's ruin would be Gilbert's ruin too.

And she could save him.

"I must, I must," said Kitty, bravely, but her heart was cold as ice. "Cost me what it may, I must save him from ruin."

She told herself that it was her duty to make this sacrifice for her lover's sake, and she tried to steel herself to the idea. But when she thought of the long and bitter years that lay before her as the wife of Harry Bennet, her courage grew less and less.

"I must not think of that," she said; "if I do, I shall break down. I must think, and think only, of saving them from the ruin which threatens them all."

Still the tears would come into her eyes. She wiped them away, however, and when she went down to dinner showed no traces of them. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, and the spots of colour on her cheeks were less brilliant than usual, but her aspect was so little different from what it generally was that even Helen Eversleigh, who looked at her inquiringly when they met, did not observe any change in her appearance.

Francis Eversleigh was at the head of the table, and from time to time he shot a quick glance at her. He had heard from his daughter, Helen, that Bennet had called that afternoon, and he felt sure Bennet had told the girl all. He expected she would speak to him on the subject after dinner, and he dreaded it. What would she say to him? What would she do? What had she said to Bennet?

Kitty had always been fond of Francis Eversleigh, and as she caught one or two of these glances of his, and knew the secret of his anxiety, she pitied him and smiled at him encouragingly. Like the other members of the Eversleigh household, she had noticed for weeks how poorly he had looked. Now, as she sat at table with him she told herself she knew why it was—he had been carrying in his breast the knowledge of his partner's crime. She felt so sorry for him, that for a time she almost forgot how black her own future was likely to be.

After dinner she and Eversleigh withdrew from the dining-room together, and went into the library. This move excited no surprise in the others, who supposed it accounted for by there being some fresh development with regard to her late father's affairs which required immediate attention.

Eversleigh left it to Kitty to begin the conversation.

"Mr. Bennet was here this afternoon," she said, steadily; "and he told me something which astonished and pained me more than I can express."

Kitty stopped, expecting Eversleigh to speak, but he only looked at her sorrowfully.

"He told me," said Kitty after a pause, "that some house property of his, which was entrusted to your firm, had been sold without his consent or knowledge, and that the money had been misappropriated. Is it true?"

"I regret to have to answer, Kitty, that it is too true," replied Eversleigh, falteringly. "It is only too true," he repeated, shaking his head sadly, "too true."

"Won't you tell me all about it?" asked the girl. "I do so wish to help you if I can," she cried earnestly.

"Kitty, you are, as you always have been, a dear sweet girl," responded Eversleigh, with twitching lips and tears standing in his eyes; "but I am afraid you can do nothing."

"Perhaps I can. But let me know, will you not, how this frightful thing has come about?" she urged.

"It is a dreadful story, a shameful story, Kitty. I have tried to act for the best——"

He broke off with a sob.

"I shall never believe you were guilty of anything criminal!" she exclaimed.

"I did not steal the money; you are right, if that is what you mean, dear; but the law will hold me guilty."

"I did not imagine for a single instant that you had taken any one's money wrongfully. Mr. Bennet said that you told him the money was taken by Mr. Silwood."

"Yes, yes," returned Eversleigh; "that is true."

"Besides yourself and Mr. Bennet and me, does any other person know about this—trouble?"

"No, not a soul."

"Then it is only Mr. Bennet you have to fear?"

"Yes; but is that not sufficient?"

"I am afraid it is. Still, if there was to be found a way of satisfying him, would that release you from further worries of the same kind?"

"Kitty," said Eversleigh, speaking with much emotion; "Kitty, I shall not pretend not to understand what you refer to when you talk of finding a way to satisfy Bennet. He told me what he intended doing—how he was to disclose to you that my fate was in his hands, and to declare to you he would not prosecute me if you would promise to marry him. It seems to me a monstrous proposition—that you should sacrifice yourself for me. No, Kitty, you must not marry him. You must leave us to our fate."

As Eversleigh said these words, there was a ring in his voice that had long been absent from it. He really meant what he said.

"I shall not leave you and the others to their fate," cried Kitty; "you are all dear to me—and then," she said shyly, "there is Gilbert. Mr. Bennet declares Gilbert will be involved in your ruin; that is," she added gently, "if you were found to be a party to—irregularities; then, in that case he would be compelled to give up the Bar."

Eversleigh nodded gloomily.

"I fear that would be so," he said with a gasp.

"Gilbert is dearer to me than myself," Kitty went on, blushing a little, "and I must save him if I can."

Neither spoke for a few minutes.

"You are a brave, heroic woman," said Eversleigh, at last. "But Gilbert will never consent to your sacrificing yourself in this way."

"Gilbert need not know until you are safe out of Bennet's grasp," suggested Kitty. "And do you not see that I am between two fires," she continued; "so that I must yield myself? If the worst befall you, then you, dear Mrs. Eversleigh who has been a mother to me, your sons and your daughter, will be made miserable for ever! Oh, I cannot think of it! And then there is my love for Gilbert! No," she sighed in a whisper; "I cannot ruin him."

"You are a noble girl," said Eversleigh, with deep feeling; "but I, we—even Gilbert—have no right to expect such a sacrifice from you, Kitty."

The girl did not at once reply. Instead she gazed thoughtfully at him.

"I wonder if there is no other way of satisfying Mr. Bennet?" she asked.

"I do not know of any."

"Could you not take the money you owe him out of my fortune? Oh, I would give him the half of all I possess—nay, the whole of it, if that would satisfy him."

"Kitty," said Eversleigh, in so despairing a voice, that it made her start in a sudden terror that he was about to do something desperate. "Kitty, I see I must tell you everything. Indeed, I should have told you everything sooner, but I am a weak, cowardly wretch. For nearly two months I have endured tortures every hour and every moment, ever since the day Silwood told me that he had embezzled—that is the bitter word—and appropriated to his own use for speculations on the Stock Exchange the money and property of our clients—yours, Kitty, along with the rest. And I, fool that I was, never knew anything of it! I suspected nothing. It was the expected coming of your father which made Silwood speak out. Kitty, the part of your fortune which was in our charge has gone—it does not exist."

Kitty was silent.

"Why do you not reproach me?" inquired Eversleigh. "There is nothing you would say that I should not deserve."

And then he saw she was crying quietly. But it was not for the loss of the greater part of her fortune.

"How you must have suffered!" she said, through her tears.

And now the man broke down helplessly and wept like a child.

"I must save him," she said to herself with determination. "If there is no other way, then I must marry Mr. Bennet."

But even while she felt strong enough to carry out her purpose, there was a great cry of desolation in her heart; she tried to still it with the thought that there was something in the world even higher than love.