to do our duty. We knew how painful it would be for the dear
General and Miss Vane if any member of that wretched man's family were
left in the village, and we thought it simplified matters so much that
there was only one child--didn't we, Alfred?"

Alfred was the Rector, a tall thin man, very slow in expressing his
ideas, and therefore generally resigning the task of doing so to his
wife's more nimble tongue. On this occasion, unready as usual with a
response, he crossed his legs one over the other, cleared his throat,
and had just prepared to utter the words, "We did indeed, my dear," when
Mrs. Rumbold was off again.

"Some neighbors took care of her before the trial," she said
confidentially. "Indeed we paid them a small sum for doing so, Mr.
Lepel--we didn't like to send the child to the workhouse before we knew
how matters would turn out. But, when the poor wretched man was
condemned, I said to Alfred,'We really can't let the Smiths be burdened
any longer with Andrew Westwood's child--she must go to the Union!' And
Alfred actually went to Westwood, and asked him if he had any relatives
to whom the child could be sent--didn't you, Alfred?--and, when he said
that there were none, and that the girl might as well be brought up in
the workhouse as anywhere else, for she would always be an outcast like
himself--I quote his very words, Mr. Lepel--his graceless, reckless,
wicked words!--why, then, I just put on my hat and cloak, and I went to
the Smiths at once, and I said, 'Mrs. Smith, I've come to take little
Westwood to the workhouse;' and take her I did that very afternoon."

"Do you know when she ran away?" Hubert asked.

Mrs. Rumbold shook her head.

"I haven't heard. Not more than a day or two ago, I should fancy, for
nobody seems to have been looking for her in this direction. I wonder
she came back to Beechfield, the hardened little thing!"

"Oh, come, I don't think she is that, Mrs. Rumbold!" said Hubert,
affecting a lightness which assuredly he did not feel. "I fancy that she
wandered back to Beechfield out of love for her father and her old home,
poor child. She is not to be blamed for her father's sins, surely!" he
added, seeing rather an odd expression on Mrs. Rumbold's face as the
involuntary words of pity passed his lips.

"Oh, no, no--of course not!" Mrs. Rumbold hastened to reply. "It is very
kind of you, Mr. Lepel, and very kind of Miss Vane too, to interest
yourselves in the fate of Andrew Westw