After a long search, by the accidental overturning of the mat by her bedroom door, she discovered a note which had been left under it and had thus escaped earlier recognition. It was from her mother. Doris locked herself into her room in order to read the letter, which was blotched and blurred with the tears that had been shed over it: "MY DARLING CHILD,-- "I am grieved to tell you that a very terrible thing has happened. Your father has unfortunately lost all Bernard Cameron’s money. He speculated with it as if it were his own, in the firm belief, he says, that he would be able to double the capital. However, he lost everything, and he is overwhelmed with grief and remorse, realising now, when it is too late, that he had no right to speculate with Bernard’s money. Indeed, a terrible penalty is attached to such a mistake--the law deems it a crime--as he has made. He dare not face Bernard and his mother, Mr. Hamilton and the lawyer to-morrow, and his only chance of escaping from a dreadful punishment is by flight. Doris darling, my heart is torn in two; I cannot let him go alone for _his heart is broken_--and something dreadful may happen if he is left to himself--so you will forgive me, darling, but I must go with him--_I must_. For twenty years we have been married, and I cannot leave his side, now that he is in despair. Oh, I know it would be better of him, and more manly and just, if he would stay and face the consequences of his sin, but I _cannot_ persuade him to do it, though I have implored him with tears, and so, if it is wrong to flee, I share the wrong-doing, and may God forgive us! Now, my dear Doris, when we have gone you must tell Susan that she must give notice to our landlord that we give up our tenancy of the house; then she must arrange with an auctioneer to sell all the furniture; and tell her when that has been done, after paying the rent and taxes and the tradesmen’s bills, she must put the remainder of the money in the bank to your father’s account. "And then, as for yourself, my dear child, it will be better for you to know nothing of our whereabouts, or our doings. You must go to London to my dear old friend Miss Earnshaw, and ask her _for my sake_ to give you a home. I am sure she will do that, for she is so good and loves me dearly. She lives at Earl’s Court Square; and you must go to her at once, travelling by train to King’s Cross, and then taking a hansom there. "Once before, long years ago, Miss Earnshaw wanted to adopt you and make you her heiress, but your father and I could not give you up. Tell her we do so now, and consent that you shall take her name--which was the sole condition she made--it will, now, be more honourable than our own. Farewell, dear, my heart would break at parting from you thus were it not that what has happened has broken it already. "Your loving Mother, "DOROTHY ANDERSON."