baronet himself!

Oh, but this was vengeance, swift, deadly vengeance!

But how, but how had she wreaked it? _She_, already my heart whispered
_she!_

Was my peerless Philippa then a murderess?

Oh, say not so; call hers (ye would do so an she had been an Irish
felon) 'the wild justice of revenge,' or the speedy execution of the
outraged creditor.

Killed by Philippa!

Yes, and why? The answer was only too obvious. She must have gone
forth to meet him, and to wring from him, by what means she might, that
quarter's salary which the dastard had left unpaid. Then my thoughts
flew to the door-key, the cause of that fierce family hatred which
burned between Philippa and her betrayer. That latch-key she had wrested
from him, it had fallen from her hand, and I--I had pitched it into
space!

Overcome with emotion, I staggered in the direction of the 'pike. All
the way, in the blinding, whirling snow, I traced the unobliterated
prints of a small fairy foot.

This was a dreary comfort! Philippa had gone before me; the prints of
the one small foot were hers. She must, then, have hopped all the way!
Could such a mode of progression be consistent with a feeling of guilt?
Could remorse step so gaily?

My man William, the Sphynx, opened the door to me. Assuming a natural
air, I observed:--

'Miss South is at home?'

'Yes, sir. Just come in, sir.'

'Where is she now?'

'Well, sir, she just is on the rampage. "I'll make 'is fur fly," she up
and sez, sez she, when she heard as you was hout. Not a nice young lady
for a small tea-party, sir,' he added, lowering his voice; 'a regular
out-and-outer your sister is, to be sure.'

The Sphynx, in spite of his stolidity, occasionally ventured upon some
slight liberty when addressing me.

I made a gay rejoinder, reflecting on the character of his own unmarried
female relations, and entered the room.

Philippa was sitting on the lofty, dark oak chimney-piece, with her feet
dangling unconventionally over the fireplace. The snow, melting from her
little boots and her hair, had made a large puddle on the floor.

I came up and stood waiting for her to speak, but she kept pettishly
swinging her small feet, as one who, by the action, means to signify
displeasure.

'Philippa,' I said sternly, 'speak to me.'

'Well, here's a gay old flare-up!' cried Philippa, leaping from the
chimney-piece, and folding her arms fiercely akimbo.

'Who are you? Where's the baby? _You_ a brother;