innocent pity in
Lucy's heart. The child burst out crying.

That artless expression of sympathy drew Mrs. Zant down the few stairs
which separated her from Lucy.

"May I kiss your dear little girl?" she said to Mr. Rayburn. The
landlady, standing on the mat below, expressed her opinion of the value
of caresses, as compared with a sounder method of treating young persons
in tears: "If that child was mine," she remarked, "I would give her
something to cry for."

In the meantime, Mrs. Zant led the way to her rooms.

The first words she spoke showed that the landlady had succeeded but too
well in prejudicing her against Mr. Rayburn.

"Will you let me ask your child," she said to him, "why you think me
mad?"

He met this strange request with a firm answer.

"You don't know yet what I really do think. Will you give me a minute's
attention?"

"No," she said positively. "The child pities me, I want to speak to the
child. What did you see me do in the Gardens, my dear, that surprised
you?" Lucy turned uneasily to her father; Mrs. Zant persisted. "I first
saw you by yourself, and then I saw you with your father," she went on.
"When I came nearer to you, did I look very oddly--as if I didn't see
you at all?"

Lucy hesitated again; and Mr. Rayburn interfered.

"You are confusing my little girl," he said. "Allow me to answer your
questions--or excuse me if I leave you."

There was something in his look, or in his tone, that mastered her. She
put her hand to her head.

"I don't think I'm fit for it," she answered vacantly. "My courage has
been sorely tried already. If I can get a little rest and sleep, you may
find me a different person. I am left a great deal by myself; and I have
reasons for trying to compose my mind. Can I see you tomorrow? Or write
to you? Where do you live?"

Mr. Rayburn laid his card on the table in silence. She had strongly
excited his interest. He honestly desired to be of some service to
this forlorn creature--abandoned so cruelly, as it seemed, to her own
guidance. But he had no authority to exercise, no sort of claim to
direct her actions, even if she consented to accept his advice. As a
last resource he ventured on an allusion to the relative of whom she had
spoken downstairs.

"When do you expect to see your brother-in-law again?" he said.

"I don't know," she answered. "I should like to see him--he is so kind
to me."

She turned aside to take leave of Lucy.

"Good-by, my little