of punishment, and to be apprehended was to
be condemned.

Ralph must be kept out of the grip of the law. Yes, that was beyond
question. Whether the woman's words were true or false, the issues
were now too serious to be played with.

She had sent her father in pursuit of Ralph, and the effect of what he
would tell of the forthcoming eviction might influence Ralph to adopt
a course that would be imprudent, even dangerous--nay, even fatal, in
the light of the more recent disclosure.

What had she done? God alone could say what would come of it.

But perhaps her father could still be overtaken and brought back. Yet
who was to do it? She herself was a woman, doomed as such to sit at
her poor little wheel, to lie here like an old mastiff or its weak
tottering whelp, while Ralph was walking--perhaps at her bidding--to
his death.

She would tell Willy, and urge him to go in pursuit of Sim. Yet, no,
that was not possible. She would have to confess that she had acted
against his wish, and that he had been right while she had been wrong.
Even that humiliation was as nothing in the face of the disaster that
she foresaw: but Willy and Sim!--Rotha shuddered as she reflected how
little the two names even could go together.

The morning was growing apace, and still Rotha's perplexity increased.
She went downstairs and made breakfast with an absent mind.

The farm people came and went; they spoke, and she answered; but all
was as a dream, except only the one grim reality that lay on her mind.

She was being driven to despair. It was far on towards midday, and she
was alone; still no answer came to her question. She threw herself on
the settle, and buried her face in her hands. She was in too much
agony to weep. What had she done? What could she do?

When she lifted her eyes, Liza Branthwaite was beside her, looking
amazed and even frightened.

"What has happened, lass?" said Liza fearfully.

Then Rotha, having no other heart to trust with her haunting secret,
confided it to this simple girl.

"And what can I do?" she added in a last word.

During the narration, Liza had been kneeling, with her arms in her
friend's lap. Jumping up when Rotha had ceased, she cried, in reply to
the last inquiry, "I know. I'll just slip away to Robbie. He shall be
off and fetch your father back."

"Robbie?" said Rotha, looking astonished.

"Never fear, _I'll_ manage _him_. And now, cheer up, my lass; cheer
up."

In another moment Liza