st discovered, and the house roused. Victoria and Cyril Boden were
exploring other roads through the garden and park; he had run down the
long hill to the station lodge in case the theory started at once by
Victoria that she had escaped, unknown to any one, in order to force an
interview with her father should turn out to be the right one.

Presently a trembling voice said in the darkness, while some soft curls
of hair tickled his cheek:

"I've been to Threlfall. Will Lady Tatham be very angry?"

"Well, she was a bit worried," said Tatham, wondering if the occasion
ought not to be improved. "She guessed--you might have gone there.
There's bad weather coming--and she was anxious what might happen to you.
Ah! there's the rain!"

Two or three large drops descended on Felicia's cheek as it lay upturned
on his shoulder; a pattering began on the oak-leaves overhead; the
moonlight was blotted out, and when Felicia opened her eyes, it was on a
heavy darkness.

"Stupid!" cried Tatham. "Why didn't I think of bringing a mackintosh
cape?"

"Mayn't I walk?" asked Felicia, meekly. "I think I could."

"I expect you'd better not. You were pretty bad when I found you. It's no
trouble to me to carry you, and I know every inch of these roads."

And indeed by now he would have been very loath to quit his task. There
was something tormentingly attractive in this warm softness of the girl's
tiny form upon his breast. The thought darted across him--"If I had ever
held Lydia so!" It was a pang; but it passed; and what remained was a
tenderness of soul, evoked by Lydia, but passing out now beyond Lydia.

Poor little foolish thing! He supposed she had been trampled on, as his
mother had been. But his mother could defend herself. What chance had
this child against the old tyrant! An eager, protective sympathy--a
warm pity--arose in him; greatly quickened by this hand and arm that
clung to him.

The rain began to drive against them.

"Do you mind getting wet?" he said laughing, almost in her ear.

"Not a bit! I--I didn't mean to give any trouble."

The tone was penitent. Tatham, forgetting all thoughts of admonition,
reassured her.

"You didn't give any. Except--Your mother of course was very anxious
about you."

"But I couldn't tell her!" sighed the voice on his shoulder. "She'd have
stopped it."

Tatham smiled unseen.

"I'm afraid your father wasn't kind to you," he said, after a pause.

"It was horrible--horrible!" The li