bent over the flowers she had gathered, weeping bitterly--
foolish, vain tears, she said; and then, hastily rising, she walked
towards the Rectory.

On reaching the village it seemed as if deserted, for, in spite of the
damp thrown upon the morning's proceedings, there was high revelling at
the Castle. People could not see why the sorrows of one man should
interfere with their pleasure: the Squire was married, the feast had
been prepared; and, under the management of a relative of Sir Murray,
the happy pair were toasted, and the morning's scene was about
forgotten.

Ada reached the churchyard, where the flowers scattered by the children
lay withering in the hot sun. The blood rushed to her cheeks as she
recalled the scene in its every detail; and then, as if anxious to avoid
the place which brought back so much, she turned off to reach the
Rectory gate, when, right in her path, rising from amidst the graves,
she saw Philip Norton.

More than once the question had arisen, where had he gone? A question
that she had tried to avoid, merely hoping that there might be no
further encounter between him and Sir Murray Gernon. But now, so
unexpected was the vision before her, that she stopped short, trembling
violently, and she would have turned and fled, she knew not why, had not
her limbs refused their office.

But it soon became evident that he saw her not, for groping along from
amidst the graves, he reached the path, and making his way out into the
road, turned in the direction from which she had so lately come.

Ada stood for a few minutes, too agitated to form a coherent plan; but
soon her thoughts began to shape themselves, and it seemed to her that
it was not right for Philip Norton to be left at such a time. Judging
from his acts, he did not seem to be master of himself; and a shudder
passed through her frame, galvanising her, as it were, into action, as
she thought of what men had done when under the pressure of some great
trouble. Sorrowful and despairing, of what rashness might not Philip
Norton be guilty? She shuddered as she evaded the question, and
hurrying into the Rectory, she sought, with a sensation as of a hand
grasping her heart, for her uncle.

He had gone up to the Castle half an hour ago, when a message had come
for him, she was told by one of the servants, while Mrs Elstree was
still in her bedroom.

Ada hurried out into the village, seeking for help there, but not a soul
was visible; the