s, or avenge
him if he were dead. But Lucy knew that there was nothing Alec dreaded
more than official interference. He was convinced that if this work
could be done at all, he alone could do it; and she influenced Robert
Boulger and Dick Lomas to use such means as they could to prevent
anything from being done. She was certain that all Alec needed was time
and a free hand.

IX

But the monotonous round of Lucy's life, with its dreams and its fond
imaginings, was interrupted by news of a different character. An
official letter came to her from Parkhurst to say that the grave state
of her father's health had decided the authorities to remit the rest of
his sentence, and he would be set free the next day but one at eight
o'clock in the morning. She knew not whether to feel relief or sorrow;
for if she was thankful that the wretched man's long torture was ended,
she could not but realise that his liberty was given him only because he
was dying. Mercy had been shown him, and Fred Allerton, in sight of a
freedom from which no human laws could bar him, was given up to die
among those who loved him.

Lucy went down immediately to the Isle of Wight, and there engaged rooms
in the house of a woman who had formerly served her at Hamlyn's Purlieu.

It was midwinter, and a cold drizzle was falling when she waited for him
at the prison gates. Three years had passed since they had parted. She
took him in her arms and kissed him silently. Her heart was too full for
words. A carriage was waiting for them, and she drove to the
lodging-house; breakfast was ready, and Lucy had seen that good things
which he liked should be ready for him to eat. Fred Allerton looked
wistfully at the clean table-cloth, and at the flowers and the dainty
scones; but he shook his head. He did not speak, and the tears ran
slowly down his cheeks. He sank wearily into a chair. Lucy tried to
induce him to eat; she brought him a cup of tea, but he put it away. He
looked at her with haggard, bloodshot eyes.

'Give me the flowers,' he muttered.

They were his first words. There was a large bowl of daffodils in the
middle of the table, and she took them out of the water, deftly dried
their stalks, and gave them to him. He took them with trembling hands
and pressed them to his heart, then he buried his face in them, and the
tears ran afresh, bedewing the yellow flowers.

Lucy put her arm around her father's neck and placed her cheek against
his.

'Do