ignorance—if they did not stretch out a
hand to rescue and reclaim her!

"I do love you, Veronica," she wrote at
the end of her letter. "And so does Uncle
Charles. You would not think him hard
if you had seen him as I saw him on that
dreadful day when we lost you. Oh, come
back, come back to us! If you want
means, or help, or protection, you shall
have them, I swear that you shall! Write
to me here. I am with my Aunt Hilda.
She knows nothing of this letter, nor of
yours to me. Do not let false shame or
false pride keep you apart from us. Be
strong. Oh look forward a little, dearest
Veronica! Is not anything better than
——but I know your heart is good; you
will not let your father die without the
consolation of knowing that you are safe,
and that you have given up that wicked
tempter so soon as you knew his real
character. There is no disgrace in being
deceived, and I know, I am sure, he has
deceived you. Write to me, Veronica,
soon, soon!"

The letter was sealed, directed (not
without a pang of conscience at the
written lie) to "Lady Gale," and
despatched to the post office, at the same
time with a few lines to Mr. Levincourt,
enclosing Veronica's letter, begging him to
read it, and telling him what she (Maud)
had done.

To this latter epistle came an answer
within a few days.

"I cannot be angry with you, my sweet
child," wrote the vicar, "but I am grieved
that you should have followed this impulse
without consulting me. It is my duty,
Maud, to guard you from contact with
such as that wretched girl has made
herself. The hardened audacity of her letter
astounds me. If such things could be, I
should believe that that fiend had cast a
spell upon her. May God Almighty
forgive her. I struggle with myself, but I
am a broken man. I cannot hold up my
head here. Blessed are the peace-makers,
Maudie. You plead for her with sweet
charity. But she has not injured you—
she has injured no one as she has injured
me. Still, I will not shut my mind against
any ray of hope. It may be, as you say,
that she has been deceived. If this be so,
and she returns humbled and repentant—
repentant for all the evil her treachery and
deceit have heaped on me, we must crawl
into some obscure corner and hide our
shame together. At the best, she is branded
and disgraced for life. But, my pure-
hearted Maud, I warn you not to be
sanguine. Do not make sure that she will
abandon her wicked luxuries, and pomps,
and wealth, to live in decent, dull poverty
with me. I can send no message to your
aunt. My name must be loathsome in
her ears. It were better for her and you
to forget us altogether."

The tone of this letter was softer than
Maud had dared to hope. Here, at least,
he showed no stubborn wrath. It now
remained to see what answer her letter to
Arona would bring forth.

She waited eagerly, anxiously, fearfully,
despondingly; but no answer ever came.

Her poor letter had been forwarded from
Arona to Milan in accordance with the
written instructions of Sir John Gale (he
having changed his plans, and gone on to
Milan sooner than had been arranged), had
been opened by him, read by him, and
burnt by him in the flame of a taper in his
bedroom, until it was browner and more
shrivelled than an autumn leaf.

CHAPTER VII. A FEW FRIENDS.

BEFORE the receipt of the letter from Italy
Maud had promised to go to Mrs.
Lovegrove's party.

She wished, after she had got the letter,
to withdraw her promise. She was anxious,
agitated, ill at ease. She dreaded meeting
strangers. And although the women of
Mr. Lovegrove's family had been kind and
civil to her, they were not people whose
society was at all congenial to her.

She had hitherto had no experience of
town vulgarity. The poor peasants at
Shipley were rough and ignorant. But
that was different from the Cockney
gentility which some of the Lovegroves
assumed. The young man, Augustus, was
peculiarly distasteful to her, from an
instinctive knowledge she had that he
admired herself, and would upon the slightest
encouragement, or, she much feared, without
any encouragement at all, avow as
much in plain terms. She had yielded to
her aunt's urgings, and had consented to
go to Mrs. Lovegrove's party, however.
But now she much desired to avoid
doing so.

"My darling pet!" cried Lady Tallis,
when Maud hinted this to her. "Now how
can ye think of disappointing the poor
woman? 'Twould be unkind, dear. And
I have had that poplin turned, it looks
beautiful by candle-light—but sure I
wouldn't think of going without you,
Maud dear."