The blinds are up at the house in Great Walpole-street, some of the windows have been open to get rid of the prevalent 'stuffiness,' and after the late melancholy week a general reaction towards sprightliness has set in among the household. This is confined to the lower regions, of course; up-stairs Mrs. Calverley, to whom the astute French milliner, aided and abetted by the counsel of Pauline, has actually given something like shape, sits full dressed and complacent, reading the letters of condolence which arrive by every post, and listening to the loud rings which precede the leaving of cards and the making of kind inquiries. Pauline is very attentive to her friend, listening patiently, now to her querulous complaints as to the hardness of her fate, now to her childish delight at being the object of so many sympathetic letters and calls; she is unwearied in her endeavours to amuse Mrs. Calverley, and she succeeds so well that that worthy lady has given up her intention of visiting Brighton, which would not at all have coincided with Pauline's plans.  
For, on farther thinking over the subject, she has become more and more convinced that Martin Gurwood is in possession of some secret regarding Mr. Calverley's death, and she cannot divest herself of the idea that this secret has some bearing on the matter which she has nearest at heart--the identification of Claxton, as a means to the discovery of Tom Durham. The reverend is preoccupied now, and even graver than usual. If she could only induce this old woman to let her have a little time to herself, she could watch where he goes to! Now at this very minute, on the morning after the funeral, the servant is brushing Mr. Gurwood's hat in the hall, and he is about to start on some expedition which might perhaps have as much interest for her as for him.
 
Unconscious of the excitement he was causing to his mother's visitor, Martin Gurwood sallied forth and walked down Great Walpole-street in quest of a cab to take him to the City. The good-looking young clergyman, handsome despite his grave and somewhat ascetic appearance, was an object of much remark. The nursery-maids, who were convoying their little charges to scamper about Guelph-park, were in some instances outspoken in their admiration of him. The people hiding behind the wire-blinds in the physician's dining-room, waiting their turn for an audience, looked out with envy at his trim figure and brisk activity, and turned back in disgust to refresh themselves with the outside sheet of the Times, or to stare with feeble curiosity at their fellow-victims. But, however bright may have been his personal appearance, it is certain that he was in a state of great mental disquietude, and when he ascended the dingy stairs leading to Humphrey Statham's office his heart was beating audibly.
 
Mr. Collins was a man who never repeated a mistake; so that when he caught sight of Martin he gave him precedence over the business people who were waiting in the outer office, and showed him at once into Mr. Statham's sanctum.
 
Humphrey was not at his desk; he had pulled his arm-chair in front of the fire and was reclining in it, his feet stretched out on the fender, his hands plunged in his trousers-pockets. So deep in rumination was he that he did not look up at the opening of the door, but thinking it was merely Collins with some business question, waited to be spoken to.
 
'Asleep?' said Martin Gurwood, bending over him, and touching him lightly on the shoulder.
 
'What, is it you?' cried Humphrey, starting up. 'Asleep, no! but, I confess, perfectly rapt and engrossed in thought.'
 
'And the subject was--?'
 
'Exactly the subject which you have come to talk to me about. Ah, my dear fellow, I have had the most extraordinary time since I saw you.'
 
'You have been to Hendon?'
 
'Yes; I went yesterday.'
 
'And you saw this young woman?'
 
'I did.'
 
'Well, what is she like? Does she agree? What terms did you offer her?'
 
'Stay, it is impossible for me to answer all your questions at once. You must let me tell my story my own way, while you sit there, and don't interrupt me. Yesterday morning I drove out to Hendon in a hansom cab, and while the driver was pulling up for refreshment I made my way to Rose Cottage, where I had been told Mrs. Claxton lived. Such a pretty place, Gurwood! Even in this wretched weather one could not fail to understand how lovely it must be in summer time, and even now how trim and orderly it was! I walked round and round it before I could make up my mind to ring the bell--I must tell you I had already arranged in my mind a little plot for representing myself as deeply interested in some charity for which I intended to request her
aid--but the place looked so different to what I had expected, so cosy and homely, that I hesitated about entering it under a false pretence, even though I knew my motive to be a good one. However, at last I made up my mind and pulled the bell. It was answered by a tidy, pleasant faced, middle-aged woman. I asked if Mrs. Claxton were at home, and she answered yes, but doubted whether I could see her, inviting me at the same time to walk in while she took my message to her mistress. And then she ushered me into what was the dining-room, I suppose--all dark-green paper and black oak furniture, and some capital-proofs on the wall; and as I was mooning about and staring at everything, the door opened, and a lady came into the room.'
 
'A lady?' echoed Martin involuntarily.
 
'I said a lady, and I meant it, and I hold to the term,' said Humphrey Statham, looking straight at him. 'I don't know what her birth and breeding may have been--I should think both must have been good--but I never saw a more perfectly lady-like or a sweeter manner.'
 
'What is the character of her personal appearance?' asked Martin coldly.
 
'You mean what is she like to look at, I suppose?' said Statham. 'Quite young, not more than two or three and twenty, I should think, with a slight girlish figure, and a bright, healthy, wholesome face. You know what I mean by wholesome--beaming hazel eyes, clear
red-and-white complexion, sound white teeth, and in her eyes a look of frank honesty and innocence which should be her passport through the world.'
 
'She will stand in need of some such recommendation, poor girl,' said Martin, shaking his head.
 
'I am not at all sure about that,' said Humphrey, energetically; 'certainly not so much as you think. You wait until I have told you all about it, and I shall be greatly surprised if you are not of my opinion in the matter. Let me see, where was I? O, she had just come into the room. Well, I rose on her entrance, but she very courteously motioned me to my seat again, and asked me my business. I confess, at that moment I felt like a tremendous impostor; I had not been the least nervous before, as, with such a woman as I had expected to meet, I could have brazened it out perfectly; but this was a very different affair. I felt it almost impossible to tell even a white lie to this quiet little creature. However, I blundered out the story I had concocted as best I could, and she listened earnestly and attentively. When I stopped speaking she told me that her means were not very large, but that she would spare me as much as she could. She took out her purse, but I thought that was a little too much, so I muttered something about having no receipt with me, and told her it would be better for her to send her subscription to the office. I thought I might as well learn a little more; so I introduced Mr. Claxton's name, suggesting, I think, that he should interest some of his City friends in the charity; but her poor little face fell at once. Mr. Claxton was away, she said, travelling on business, and she burst into tears. I was very nearly myself breaking down at this, but she recovered herself quickly, and begged me to excuse her. Mr. Claxton was not in good health, she said, at the time of his departure, and as she had not heard from him since, she could not help being nervous.'
 
'This is very dreadful,' said Martin Gurwood, covering his face with his hand.
 
'Ah, but if you had only seen her,' said Humphrey; 'Her pale wistful face, her large eyes full of tears! I declare I very nearly dropped the mask and betrayed myself. I asked her if Mr. Claxton were well known on the line on which he was travelling, suggesting that, if that were the case, and he had been taken ill, some one would surely have written to her. But she didn't seem to know where he had gone, and she did not like to make any inquiries. Mr. Claxton was, she said, a partner in the firm of Calverley and Company of Mincing-lane, and she had thought of going down there to make inquiries concerning him. But she remembered that some time ago Mr. Claxton had warned her in the strongest manner against ever going to the City house, or taking notice to any one of his absence, however prolonged it might be. It was one of the laws of business, she supposed, she said, with a faint smile; but she had now become so nervous that she was very nearly breaking it.'
 
'That is precisely the catastrophe which we have been trying to avert,' said Martin.
 
'And which we shall certainly not be able to avert in the manner we originally intended,' said Humphrey Statham.
 
'The story grows blacker as you proceed with it,' said Martin, looking uneasily at his companion. 'From all I gather from you, it seems evident that--this--'
 
'This lady,' said Mr. Statham, almost sternly.
 
'Certainly; this lady is quiet, sensible, and well-behaved.'
 
'More than that,' said Humphrey eagerly. 'After I left her, I had my luncheon at the inn. I dropped in at the little post-office and stationer's shop; I chatted with half a dozen people about Mrs. Claxton, and from one and all I heard the same story, that she is kind-hearted, charitable, and unceasing in doing good; that she is the vicar's right hand among the school-children, and that she is a pattern wife.'
 
'Wife!' echoed Martin Gurwood; 'do you you mean to say--'
 
'I mean to say, Martin Gurwood,' said Statham, bending forward and speaking in a deep earnest voice, 'that I have not the smallest doubt that the woman of whom we are speaking was married to the man whom you buried yesterday. I mean to say that at this instant she believes herself to be his wife, and that it will be next to impossible to make her understand the awful position in which she is placed. I mean to say that she is the victim of as black a fraud as ever was perpetrated, and that--there, I won't say any more; the man's dead, and we have all need of forgiveness.'
 
'The Lord help her in her trouble!' said Martin Gurwood solemnly, bowing his head. 'If what you say is right, and I feel it is, the mystery of the double name is now made clear.'
 
'Yes,' said Statham; 'had this lady been what we originally supposed, it is probable that he would not have given himself the trouble of inventing any such mystery; but being, as she fondly imagined herself, his wife, it was necessary to give her a name by which she might pass unrecognised by any of his friends who might accidentally come across her. The whole scheme must have been deliberately concocted, and with its association of Claxton as a partner in Calverley's house is diabolically ingenious.'
 
There was silence for a few moments, broken by Martin Gurwood. 'The question comes back to us again,' he said; 'what are we to do?'
 
'It comes back,' said Humphrey; 'but this time I have no hesitation as to how it should be answered. When we last entered into this subject, after long discussion we decided that the inhabitant of Rose Cottage must be informed of what had taken place, and that an annuity must be offered her on condition of her keeping the knowledge of her position and even her existence from Mrs. Calverley. Now, part of our programme must be held to, and part abandoned.'
 
'It is our duty, I imagine, to break to her what has occurred,' said Martin.
 
'And to do so without a day's delay,' said Humphrey. 'That is necessary for our own sake as well as for hers. I did my best to impress upon her the inadvisability of her going to the house in the City; but as each day passes and no news is heard of him whom she awaits, her anxiety will increase more and more, and there is no knowing what rash step she may take.'
 
'Of course, if she went to Mincing-lane, she would learn at once that no Mr. Claxton was known there, and that Mr. Calverley was de............