in the night; she left her bag by the stile, and went back across the field to the garden gate, and looked at the house once more, and at her mother's darkened window, then went back again to the stile. Gradually the natural exultation of youth came over her. "I'm going to London," she said, breathlessly, "to seek my fortune just as Dick Whittington did, and as Lena Lakeman said I ought to have done." She stooped and felt the grass--it was quite dry; she used her bag as a pillow, and pulled her cloak round her and stretched herself out to rest for an hour or two on the soft green ground. "Oh, if mother could know that I was lying here in the fields, what would she say? But it's lovely with the cool air coming on my face, and I have a sense of being free already." But sleep would not come; she was restless and excited, and it seemed as if the shadows of all the people she had known crowded about her. She could feel her mother's hand upon her head, hear Hannah scolding, and see her father holding aloof--till she could bear it no longer. She sat up and looked round; the dawn was beginning; in the dim light she could see the green of the grass. "Dear land," she said, as she put her head down once more, "when shall I walk over you again towards my mother's house?" XXII Margaret's heart beat fast as the hansom stopped at the house in Great College Street. Mrs. Gilman opened the door. "Miss Hunstan went away on Saturday night, miss," she said; "she's gone to Germany for three weeks." "Oh yes--to Bayreuth; she said she might go, but I didn't think it would be so soon." Margaret stood dismayed. "Is there anything I can do, miss? You are the young lady that came that morning with Mr. Carringford, and put out the flowers?" "Yes--yes! I thought Miss Hunstan would advise me," Margaret answered, desperately. "I have come to London alone this time, not with my father, and I want to live somewhere." For a moment Mrs. Gilman looked at her doubtfully. "You are very young to be alone," she said. "Oh yes, I'm very young; but that has nothing to do with it." "And you have no friends in London?" "I'm afraid they're all away," Margaret answered. "Mrs. and Miss Lakeman are going to Scotland to-day." "I know them," Mrs. Gilman said, her face brightening, "and you know Mr. Carringford, too?" "Oh yes. I stayed at the Langham Hotel with my father," she went on, "but I am afraid to go there now--alone." "I have a bedroom and sitting-room; perhaps you would like them, miss; they are the drawing-rooms. Miss Hunstan preferred the lower floor because it was easier to come in and out. I don't know if they'd be too expensive?"