tell me that with her own lips," said Giles, groaning.

"Yes, Portia, tell Mr. Ware the place Anne has gone to."

Portia eyed her father with some anger. "How can I tell when I don't
know? Anne never said where she was going. I let her out by the back
door just before dawn, and she went away. I know no more."

"If she writes, you will let Mr. Ware know."

"I shan't," retorted the girl. "Anne wants him to forget her."

"That is impossible," said Giles, whose face was now haggard with the
anguish of the moment; "but you must be my friend, Portia, and tell me.
Think how I suffer!"

"Think how she suffers, poor darling!" cried Portia, whose sympathies
were all with Anne. "Don't ask me any more. I shan't speak."

And speak she would not, although Giles cajoled and Franklin stormed.
Whatever could be said of Portia, she was very loyal to the outcast.
There was nothing for it but for Ware to depart. And this he did.

What was the best thing to be done Giles did not very well know. Anne
was lost again, and he did not know where to look for her. He could not
bring himself to believe that she was guilty, in spite of her confession
to Portia and Franklin.

"It's that blackguard of a father of hers over again," he thought, as he
tramped moodily through the Priory park. "She is afraid lest his
brother--her uncle--should denounce him, and has taken the crime on her
own shoulders. Even though he is her father, she should not sacrifice so
much for him. But it is just noble of her to do so. Oh, my poor love,
shall I ever be able to shelter you from the storms of life?"

There did not seem to be much chance of it at the present moment.
Mistrusting her uncle, she had vanished, and would let no one but Portia
know of her new hiding-place. And Portia, as Giles saw, was too devoted
to Anne to confess her whereabouts without permission. And how was such
permission to be obtained? Anne allowed her uncle to think her guilty in
order to save her unworthy father from his fraternal hatred. She had
asserted her innocence to Giles, but had apparently, through Portia,
tried to deceive him again, so that he might not follow her. "Poor
darling!" cries Giles, full of pity, "she wishes to put me out of her
life, and has fled to avoid incriminating her father. If she told me the
whole truth her father would be in danger, and she chooses to bear his
guilt herself. But why should she think I would betray the man? Bad as
he is, I should screen him