Alfred was the Rector, a tall thin man, very slow in expressing his ideas, and therefore generally resigning the task of doing so to his wife's more nimble tongue. On this occasion, unready as usual with a response, he crossed his legs one over the other, cleared his throat, and had just prepared to utter the words, "We did indeed, my dear," when Mrs. Rumbold was off again. "Some neighbors took care of her before the trial," she said confidentially. "Indeed we paid them a small sum for doing so, Mr. Lepel--we didn't like to send the child to the workhouse before we knew how matters would turn out. But, when the poor wretched man was condemned, I said to Alfred,'We really can't let the Smiths be burdened any longer with Andrew Westwood's child--she must go to the Union!' And Alfred actually went to Westwood, and asked him if he had any relatives to whom the child could be sent--didn't you, Alfred?--and, when he said that there were none, and that the girl might as well be brought up in the workhouse as anywhere else, for she would always be an outcast like himself--I quote his very words, Mr. Lepel--his graceless, reckless, wicked words!--why, then, I just put on my hat and cloak, and I went to the Smiths at once, and I said, 'Mrs. Smith, I've come to take little Westwood to the workhouse;' and take her I did that very afternoon." "Do you know when she ran away?" Hubert asked. Mrs. Rumbold shook her head. "I haven't heard. Not more than a day or two ago, I should fancy, for nobody seems to have been looking for her in this direction. I wonder she came back to Beechfield, the hardened little thing!" "Oh, come, I don't think she is that, Mrs. Rumbold!" said Hubert, affecting a lightness which assuredly he did not feel. "I fancy that she wandered back to Beechfield out of love for her father and her old home, poor child. She is not to be blamed for her father's sins, surely!" he added, seeing rather an odd expression on Mrs. Rumbold's face as the involuntary words of pity passed his lips. "Oh, no, no--of course not!" Mrs. Rumbold hastened to reply. "It is very kind of you, Mr. Lepel, and very kind of Miss Vane too, to interest yourselves in the fate of Andrew Westwood's daughter--very Christian, I am sure!" "I don't know that," said Hubert, somewhat awkwardly. "I fancy that my cousin simply wishes to get the child away from the place before the General is well enough to go out again--I suppose he knows her by sight. It would be painful to him--and little Enid might come to hear." "Of course, of course! I quite understand, Mr. Lepel. And the Churton workhouse is so near Beechfield too!" "She shall not go back to the workhouse," said Hubert, with firmness. "I am resolved on that!"