had followed her to Netherwoods. From that moment,
she, who had made others wretched, paid the penalty in suffering as keen
as any that she had inflicted. Completely prostrated; powerless, through
ignorance of his address in London, to make a last appeal to Mirabel;
she was literally, as had just been said, careless what became of her.
When the train approached, she sprang to her feet--advanced to the edge
of the platform--and suddenly drew back, shuddering. The teacher looked
in terror at Alban. Had the desperate girl meditated throwing herself
under the wheels of the engine? The thought had been in both their
minds; but neither of them acknowledged it. Francine stepped quietly
into the carriage, when the train drew up, and laid her head back in a
corner, and closed her eyes. Mrs. Ellmother took her place in another
compartment, and beckoned to Alban to speak to her at the window.

"Where can I see you, when you go to London?" she asked.

"At Doctor Allday's house."

"On what day?"

"On Tuesday next."

CHAPTER LVII. APPROACHING THE END.

Alban reached London early enough in the afternoon to find the doctor at
his luncheon. "Too late to see Mrs. Ellmother," he announced. "Sit down
and have something to eat."

"Has she left any message for me?"

"A message, my good friend, that you won't like to hear. She is off
with her mistress, this morning, on a visit to Mr. Mirabel's sister."

"Does he go with them?"

"No; he follows by a later train."

"Has Mrs. Ellmother mentioned the address?"

"There it is, in her own handwriting."

Alban read the address:--"Mrs. Delvin, The Clink, Belford,
Northumberland."

"Turn to the back of that bit of paper," the doctor said. "Mrs.
Ellmother has written something on it."

She had written these words: "No discoveries made by Mr. Mirabel, up to
this time. Sir Jervis Redwood is dead. The Rooks are believed to be
in Scotland; and Miss Emily, if need be, is to help the parson to find
them. No news of Miss Jethro."

"Now you have got your information," Doctor Allday resumed, "let me have
a look at you. You're not in a rage: that's a good sign to begin with."

"I am not the less determined," Alban answered.

"To bring Emily to her senses?" the doctor asked.

"To do what Mirabel has _not_ done--and then to let her choose between
us."

"Ay? ay? Your good opinion of her hasn't altered, though she has treated
you so badly?"

"My good opinion makes allowance for the