hat formed such a close cover
for the game of various sorts with which the wood was so thickly
populated. Now and then from her form amid the withered fern a
frightened hare leaped among their very feet. Startled rabbits scurried
here and there over the soft moss and rustling leaves. The cry of a
night-bird from time to time broke the intense stillness of the lonesome
place, while more than once they were alarmed by a soft something that
brushed their face, as a big, downy white owl passed them by in search
of its prey. In a dell hidden in the very heart of the wood they came
upon what apparently had been the camping-ground of some wanderers--the
gipsies probably, concerning whom the tales and rumours were so rife and
so exaggerated of late. It must have been used quite recently, for where
the fire had been built the wood ash was white and undisturbed; while
the crusts, bones, and fragments of a rough-and-ready meal still
littered the green turf that spread in such a fresh, delicious carpet
all around the spot. But now the dell was deserted. The feeling of
desolation always conveyed by the sight of a burned-out fire, a forsaken
hearth, struck chilly on Mr. Grey's senses, and he turned away in
disappointment from the tenantless place. Then the two men gazed blankly
into each other's eyes. The children could not be found; not a trace of
them was to be seen, except a small battered shoe--the shoe that Joan
had left behind the preceding Friday.

By this time they were so tired out that they were reluctantly obliged
to give over their search for the night; so, feeling footsore, and
disheartened by their want of success, they went each his own way
homewards.

Mr. Grey was now thoroughly alarmed for the safety of his wife's little
favourites, not knowing what mishap might have overtaken them. As for
nurse, her state of mind was pitiable. She alone had been left in charge
of the children, and she only was responsible to the Misses Turner for
their safety. And what would Captain Dene say--her master, whom she had
solemnly promised to take good care of his motherless children? She had
done her best, poor Perry; for although often impatient and
unsympathetic with the little ones, she loved them devotedly, and would
now willingly have imperilled her own safety to secure theirs. Oh, how
earnestly she wished that Miss Turner and Miss Alice were home again, or
rather that they had not gone away! It was, of course, too late to
commun