e healing of the normal man, on whom a wound is no sooner
inflicted than all the reparative powers of life rush together for its
cure.

* * * *

But while Tatham, wrapped in thoughts of Lydia, was thus drawing
homeward, across the higher ground of the estate, down through the Duddon
woods, as they fell gently to the river, a little figure was hurrying,
with the step of a fugitive, and half-nervous, half-exultant looks
from side to side. The moon had risen. It was not dark in the woods, and
Felicia, amid the _boschi_ of the Apuan Alps, had never been frightened
of the night or of any ill befalling her. In Lucca itself she might be
insulted; on the hills, never. She had the independence, and--generally
speaking--the strength of the working girl. So that the enterprise on
which she was launched--the quest of her father--presented itself to her
as nothing particularly difficult. She had indeed to keep it from her
mother and Lady Tatham, and to find means of escaping them. That she
calmly took steps to do, not bothering her head much about it.

As to the rest of the business, there was a station on the Keswick line
close to the gate of the park, and she had looked out a train which would
take her conveniently to Whitebeck, which was only half a mile from
Threlfall. From Duddon to Whitebeck took eight minutes in the train. She
would be at Whitebeck a little after five; allowing an hour for her
adventure at the Tower, and some little margin, she would catch a train
back between six and seven, which would allow of her slipping into Duddon
a little after seven, unnoticed, and in good time to dress for dinner.
Her Italian blood betrayed itself throughout, alike in the keen pleasure
she took in the various devices of her small plot; in the entire absence
of any hampering scruples as to the disobedience and deceit which it
involved; and in the practical intelligence with which she was ready to
carry it out. She had brooded over it for days; and this afternoon a
convenient opportunity had arisen. Her mother was in her room with a
headache; Lady Tatham had had to go to Carlisle on business.

As she hastened, almost running, through the park, she was planning, by
fits and starts, what she would say to her father. But still more was the
thinking of Tatham--asking herself questions about him, with little
thrills of excitement, and little throbbings of delicious fear.

Here she was, at the gate of the park. Ju