CHAPTER VIII.
WHEN Magdalen and her father met in the shrubbery Mr.Vanstone's face showed plainly that something had happened to please him since he had left home in the morning.

He answered the question which his daughter's curiosity at once addressed to him by informing her that he had just come from Mr.Clare's cottage; and that he had picked up, in that unpromising locality, a startling piece of news for the family at Combe-Raven.
On entering the philosopher's study that morning, Mr.Vanstone had found him still dawdling over his late breakfast, with an open letter by his side, in place of the book which, on other occasions, lay ready to his hand at meal-times.

He held up the letter the moment his visitor came into the room, and abruptly opened the conversation by asking Mr.
Vanstone if his nerves were in good order, and if he felt himself strong enough for the shock of an overwhelming surprise.
"Nerves!" repeated Mr.Vanstone.

"Thank God, I know nothing about my nerves.

If you have got anything to tell me, shock or no shock, out with it on the spot." Mr.Clare held the letter a little higher, and frowned at his visitor across the breakfast-table.