Enid turned to her aunt. She was a singularly sensitive looking child, with lips that paled too rapidly and veins that showed with almost painful distinctness beneath the soft white skin. Her features were delicately cut, and gave promise of future beauty, when health should lend its vivifying touch to the white little face. Her eyes, of a tender violet-gray, were even now remarkable, and her hair was of rippling gold. Her sombre black dress and the sunshine that poured down upon the spot where she was standing contributed to the dazzling effect produced by her golden hair and white skin. There could not have been a greater contrast than that between her and Andrew Westwood's daughter, upon whom at that moment Hubert Lepel's eyes were fixed. Jenny Westwood, as she was generally called, although her father gave her a different name, was thinner, browner wilder-looking, than she had even been before. Miss Vane knew her by sight, but she had imagined that the child had been taken away from the village by friends, or sent to the workhouse by the authorities. It was a shock to her to find the little creature at the park gates of Beechfield Hall. Enid did not seem to be embarrassed by her aunt's call. She ran up to her at once, dragging the ragged child with her by the hand. Her face was anxious and puzzled. "Oh, aunt Leo," she said, "this little girl has nowhere to go to--no home--no anything!" "Let her hand go, Enid!" said aunt Leo, with some severity. "You have no business to be out here in the road, talking to children whom you know nothing about." Enid shrank a little, but she did not drop the child's hand. "But, aunt Leo, she is hungry and----" "Were you begging of this young lady?" Miss Vane said magisterially, her eyes bent full on the ragged girl's dark face. But Andrew Westwood's daughter would not speak. "I'll talk to her," said Hubert, in a low tone. "You take Enid back to the house, aunt Leo, and I'll send the child about her business." "No, no; you'll miss your train. It is time for you to go. Enid can run back to the house by herself. Go, Enid!" "Why may I not speak to the little girl too?" said Enid wistfully. It was not often that she was rebellious, but her face worked now as if she were going to cry. "Never mind why--do as I tell you!" cried Miss Vane, who was growing exasperated by the pain and difficulty of the situation, "I will see what she wants." Enid hesitated for a moment, then flung herself impetuously upon Hubert. "Won't you help her?" she said, looking up into his face with sweet entreaty. "I am sure you will be kind. The poor little girl has had nothing to eat all day--I asked her. You will be kind to her, for you are always kind." Hubert pressed her to him without speaking for a moment, then answered gently-- "Both your aunt and I will be kind to her and help her, Enid--you may be sure of that. Now run away home and leave us; we will do all we can."