st ten minutes to her train! She
hurried on. A few labourers were in the road coming home tired from their
work; a few cottage doors were ajar, showing the bright fire, and the
sprawling children within. Some of the men as they passed looked with
curiosity at the slim stranger; but she was well muffled up in her new
furs--Victoria's gift--and her large felt hat; they saw little more than
the tips of her small nose and chin.

The train came in just as she reached the station. She took her ticket
for Whitebeck, and as the train jogged along, she looked out of the
window at the valley in the dim moonrise, her mind working tumultuously.
Lady Tatham had told her much; Hesketh, Lady Tatham's maid, and the old
coachman who had been teaching her to ride, had told her more. She knew
that before she reached Whitebeck she would have passed the boundary
between the Duddon and Threlfall estates. She was now indeed on her
father's land, the land which in justice ought to be hers some day; which
in Italy would be hers by law, or part of it anyway, whatever pranks her
father might play. But here in England a man might rob his child of every
penny if he pleased. That was strange when England was such a great
country--such a splendid country. "I _love_ England!" she thought
passionately, as she leant back with folded arms and closed eyes.

And straightway on the dusk rose the image of Tatham--Tatham on
horseback, as she had seen him set out for the hunt that morning; and she
felt her eyes grow a little wet. Why? Oh! because he was so tall and
splendid--and he sat his horse like a king--and everybody loved him--and
she was living in his house--and so, whether he would or no, he must take
notice of her sometimes. One evening had he not let her mend his glove?
And another evening, when she was practising her dancing for Lady Tatham,
had he not come in to look? Ah, well, wait till she could sing and dance
properly, till--perhaps--he saw her on the stage! Her newly discovered
singing voice, which was the excitement of the moment for Lady Tatham and
Netta, was to Felicia like some fairy force within her, struggling to be
at large, which would some day carve out her fortunes, and bring her to
Tatham--on equal terms.

For her pride had flourished and fed upon her love. She no longer talked
of Tatham to her mother or any one else. But deep in her heart lay the
tenacious, pursuing instinct.

And besides--suppose--she made an impression on her f