They had left the wall no more than a dozen paces behind them, when Mr.

Thomasson paused, as in doubt, and raised his light. They were in a

little beech-coppice that grew close up to the walls of the servants'

offices. The light showed the dark shining trunks, running in solemn

rows this way and that; and more than one path trodden smooth across the

roots. The lanthorn disclosed no more, but apparently this was enough

for Mr. Thomasson. He pursued the path he had chosen, and less than a

minute's walking brought them to the avenue.

Julia drew a breath of relief and looked behind and before. 'Where is

the carriage?' she whispered, shivering with excitement.

The tutor before he answered raised his lanthorn thrice to the level of

his head, as if to make sure of his position. Then, 'In the road,' he

answered. 'And the sooner you are in it the better, child, for I must

return and replace the key before he sobers. Or 'twill, be worse for

me,' he added snappishly, 'than for you.' 'You are not coming with me? 'she exclaimed in surprise.

'No, I--I can't quarrel with him,' he answered hurriedly. 'I--I am under

obligations to him. And once in the carriage you'll be safe.' 'Then please to tell me this,' Julia rejoined, her breath a little

short. 'Mr. Thomasson, did you know anything of my being carried off

before it took place?' 'I?' he cried effusively. 'Did I know?' 'I mean--were you employed--to bring me to Mr. Pomeroy's?' 'I employed? To bring you to Mr. Pomeroy's? Good heavens! ma'am, what do

you take me for?' the tutor cried in righteous indignation. 'No, ma'am,

certainly not! I am not that kind of man!' And then blurting out the

truth in his surprise, 'Why, 'twas Mr. Dunborough!' he said. 'And like

him too! Heaven keep us from him!' 'Mr. Dunborough?' she exclaimed.

'Yes, yes.' 'Oh,' she said, in a helpless, foolish kind of way. 'It was Mr.

Dunborough, was it?' And she begged his pardon. And did it too so

humbly, in a voice so broken by feeling and gratitude, that, bad man as

he was, his soul revolted from the work he was upon; and for an instant,

he stood still, the lanthorn swinging in his hand.

She misinterpreted the movement. 'Are we right?' she said, anxiously.

'You don't think that we are out of the road?' Though the night was

dark, and it was difficult to discern, anything beyond the circle of

light thrown by the lanthorn, it struck her that the avenue they were

traversing was not the one by which she had approached the house two

nights before. The trees seemed to stand farther from one another and to

be smaller. Or was it her fancy?




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