ight girl's
figure running, not toward, but away from the house.

Kate was startled. "It's serious then, poor silly creature, if she goes
out on a night like this!" For Mag had even more than the usual
cowardice of her class. Thunder-storms reduced her to abject terror.

For a moment Kate thought of following, before she realized the folly of
the idea. How could she hope to catch so fleet a pair of heels, already
lost in the darkness? Then a faint cry came to her, the sound of a child
wailing forlornly.

She slipped out into the passage, careful not to wake Jacqueline.
Whatever was to be done with Mag, one duty lay plain before her--to
comfort the deserted baby.

She opened Mag's door without knocking.--The baby was not deserted. Mag
herself stood at the window in her nightdress, cringing from the
lightning, and wringing her hands and weeping. The baby wept in
sympathy.

When she saw who had entered, Mag ran forward with a terrified cry, and
fell on her knees, clinging to Kate's skirts as a dog crouches against
its master to escape a beating.

"'T ain't my fault, 't ain't my fault! I done begged her not to go
to-night, I done prayed her, Miss Kate! Oh, oh, look at that lightnin'!
She'll be kilt!"

"What are you talking about? Pull yourself together, Mag!" Even then the
truth did not dawn on Kate. She thought she must have been the victim of
some optical illusion. Mag had to tell her in so many words.

"Miss Jacky's gone to meet her fella again, and I _know_ she's goin' to
git kilt!"

Kate reeled against the wall. "Again?" she whispered.

"I done begged her not to, no more. I knowed he'd git her into trouble
if she kep' it up.--Oh, I helped 'em, and toted notes for 'em, an' all,
'cause I liked to see her so happy--but I didn't never think it would
come to this! I'd 'a' tol' you if I dared, Miss Kate, but I dassent, I
dassent. She liked me--she kissed me once. Oh, oh, and now she's gone!"

Kate forced her stiff lips into speech. "This--has been going on for
some time?"

"Yes'm, right smart. Ever since he was sick here. I took'n him a letter
from her the day he went away."

Even in that moment, Kate's whirling brain did Channing justice. He had
kept his word, the letter of it, at least. He had not sought Jacqueline.
It was she who had sought him.

She was getting back her breath. "Now," she said, "where shall I find
them?"

Mag's wails broke forth anew. "I dunno! Reckon it's too late. Oh, my
Lordy! I t