He gasped again as if for breath, and then drew away, retreating a little. “Mary,” he said, “perhapth she’s right. I’ll be better in my own place.” As he stood thus irresolute, feeble, with a woman on each side of him, a picture of a bewildered soul cowed with long subjection, there came into the movement of the strange little drama another unexpected actor. Hetty had sprung up from her sofa, forgetting her weakness, putting out her hands at first as if to keep away the sight; and her movement had disturbed Rhoda, who sprang up too, and stood for a moment astonished, taking in the scene. Then with a cry the little girl flung herself forward, clutching at the grey coat, clinging to his knees. “Father!” she cried. Her little voice, shrill in its childish tones, rang through the air like the ring of a pistol shot, clearing away the mist. He gave a great, sobbing cry, shook himself clear, and stooping down, gathered the child into his arms. They all stood round, a group of hushed spectators, to watch that meeting. He seemed to grope for a chair, and sat down and folded her to him. “My little girl, my darling! my little girl, my darling! I’ve found you at latht!” Hetty tottered across the floor to her mother, and caught her arm and clung to her, hiding her head upon Mary’s shoulder. And behind them all young Darrell came in, and stood looking on like the rest. Even the housekeeper had been paralysed by [Illustration: “‘MY LITTLE GIRL, MY DARLING!’” (_p. 374._)] this touching sight; she had not been able to speak or interfere, but at the appearance of Darrell she recovered herself. “Doctor,” she said, going up to him, “you know what our orders are, you know he’ll hurt himself by this, you know it’s for his good--for his good. What were we put here for but for his good? And who is this lady that has ventured to interfere? Doctor, call Turner, call the man, and take him back. I order you,” cried the woman, “in my mistress’s name, take him back. Sir, sir, Mr. Prescott! take the child from him, take him back.” No one paid any attention to her cries, and the woman was almost beside herself. “Miss Hofland,” she said, “it’s as much as our places are worth. You said yourself it was a comfortable house. Oh, for goodness’ sake take the child from him, take the child from him! Don’t you know he’s off his head? I’ve got my mistress’s authority. Turner--doctor--this moment, he must be taken back!” Little Rhoda here released herself from her father’s arms. She put herself before him like a guardian spirit, not angel, for her eyes flashed fire, and her little hands clenched. “If you touch him I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” cried the little girl, setting her white teeth.