ouch of soft hands, the kitten
so far forgot herself as to break now and then into a loud
irregular purr; but her little mistress was absolutely silent
and still, though the light fingers never ceased their
caressing, until puss had finished the biscuit and purred
herself to sleep. By this time the coach jogged along in
absolute darkness, except for what help the stars gave. The
plashing of a stream over its rough bed far down below, gave
token sometimes that the wheels of the coach were near an
abyss; the flutter of leaves told that the forest was all
around them always. The irregular traveller had re-entered the
coach and sat among his shawls as still as the rest of the
party; who perhaps were all slumbering as well as the kitten.
It appeared so; for when that small individual started to
consciousness and consequent alarm again, and was making an
excursion among the feet of the gentlemen on the coach floor,
its aroused mistress was only aroused in time to hear a
consolatory whisper from one of her companions--'Poor little
Kathleen Mavourneen, by what misfortune did you get in here?
There--be still and go to sleep.' And as no more was heard, on
either side, it seemed probable the advice had been followed.
At any rate no more was seen of the kitten, not even when the
stage coach swept round the level on which the house stands,
and drew up at the door, where the light of lamps gave
opportunity for observation. Wych Hazel only saw that her
neighbour flung a shawl demurely enough over one shoulder and
arm, where the cat might have been, and letting himself out,
proceeded to do the same office with full dexterity though
with one hand for the little cat's mistress.

Ensconcing herself even closer than ever in mantle and veil,
Wych Hazel passed on through the gay groups to the foot of the
stairs, there paused.

'Mr. Falkirk,' she said softly, 'I want my tea up stairs,
please,'--and passed on after the maid.

'So,' said one of the loiterers in the hall approaching Mr.
Falkirk, 'so my dear sir, you've brought Miss Kennedy! At
last!--Now for candidates. If the face match the hand and foot,
the supply will be heavy.'

CHAPTER V.

IN THE FOG.

There was mist everywhere. On the winding bed of the river,
lying piled like a gray eider-down coverlet; folding itself
over the forest trees; floating up to the Mountain House, and
hanging about the rocks. But overhead the sky looked bright,
and Sirius waved his torch which