I went up after her, and she ran straight into that room which was a nursery, the room with the pictures."

"And you followed?"

"Yes, I followed, but she was not there. I was puzzled—almost frightened, and I went back again to the sitting-room. I think it must have been half an hour later when I saw her again. If you remember, it began to rain. It was so chilly, I was obliged to shut to the glass doors."

"Yes?" I said. Anne had paused again, with that odd breathlessness which was new.

"She was out there on the verandah, and the rain was slanting in upon her. Such a pretty little girl, and about the age--" (I knew what Anne so nearly said, and why she checked herself and altered the phrase to "about six years old." Clarice would have been six years old had she lived.) "Not a poor woman's child. She had a pretty white frock on, worked cambric and lace, and a silk sash of a sort of geranium red. No cottagers' child would be dressed so. And she had such an appealing little face, as if she was longing to be sheltered and comforted. It was raining, you know, all the time."

"And what did you do?"

"Why of course I opened the window. I said, 'Come in my dear, you will get wet.' I held out my hand and she put hers into it—oh, such a cold little hand, as cold and soft as snow. I can feel the touch of it still. I drew her into the room. 'We should be warm in here,' I said. No, I'm not crying, Godfrey; not really crying; but there was something in her face that touched me: a sort of surprise, as if no one had ever welcomed or been kind to her before. I asked her where she lived, but she only made a sign and put a finger to her lips. She heard me—I am sure she heard me, but I cannot help fancying the poor child is dumb.

"She heard me, for when I said, 'My darling, will you give me a kiss?' she put up both her little arms, and her face was close to mine. I would have had that kiss, only just then that tiresome Mrs. Stokes knocked at the door; the butcher, it seemed, had called, and she wanted to know if we would take a joint. The instant there came the knock, the child slipped away out of my arms. I had left the window open behind us, and she was gone."

"Mrs. Stokes did not see her?"

"No. She saw nothing, and could tell nothing; only I thought she looked a little odd when I was putting questions. I couldn't help wondering if there was any secret about it which she was bound to keep."

As the days went on, I began also to wonder this, and after a while that wonder shaped itself into action. But I anticipate.

That night we heard again the footsteps overhead, both of us heard them. It was still completely dark, and the rain, driven against our windows, was mixed with hail. The pattering steps crossed the floor above once, twice, and after an interval a third time. I was still awake, holding my breath to listen should they come again, when I heard another sound beside me. Anne was crying, very quietly, her face buried in the pillow so that all sound should be hushed.