"Out," said the girl, "at Mr Purley's." "And Mr Richard?" cried Daisy imploringly. "Quick: it is for his good," while Tom, who heard her words, stood gnawing his lips with jealous rage. "I don't know," said the girl. "He's gone away." "Oh, this is dreadful," said Daisy, looking bewildered. "Tom, will you not help me? I have been home, and cannot find father or mother. I come here and I cannot find Mr Richard." "Howd your tongue, lass, or you'll make me mad," cried Tom. "But Daisy, my bairn, listen," he cried, softening down. "You know I loved you. Come wi' me, and I'll find you a home somewheers. You shall never see me again, but I shall know that I've saved you from him." "Tom, where is my father?" cried Daisy, indignantly. "Listen to me, Daisy, 'fore it is too late," pleaded the young man. "Let me tak' you away." "Will you tell me where my poor father is?" cried Daisy again. "If you can't believe in me, I will listen to this shameful talk no more." "Shameful talk!" said Tom, bitterly. "Where is my father?" "Drove mad by his child," cried Tom, speaking now in tones of sorrow. "Gone by this time wi' a lot more to blow up the wucks." "I won't believe it yet," cried Daisy. "It can't be true. My dear father would never do the like." "It's true enew," said Tom, "and I should ha' been theer trying once more to stop him, only I see you, and, like a fool, tried to save thee again." "Tom," cried Daisy, who was giddy with dread and excitement, "tell me that this is some terrible mistake." "Yes," he said, bitterly; "and I made it." "What shall I do?" gasped Daisy. "Oh, at last, Mrs Glaire--Mrs Glaire, what have you done?" "You here!" cried Mrs Glaire, who now entered with Eve from the doctor's, the latter turning pale, and sinking into a chair. "Yes, yes," gasped Daisy, sinking on her knees, and clinging to Mrs Glaire's skirts; "I came--I was obliged to come back. My father, my--Oh no, no, no, no!" she sobbed to herself, "I dare not tell them; I must not tell. I--I--I came--" "Yes," cried Mrs Glaire, angrily; "you came, false, cruel girl. You came back to ruin all our hopes of happiness here--to undo all which I have striven so hard to do." "But, Mrs Glaire, dear Mrs Glaire, I have tried so hard," sobbed Daisy, grovelling on the floor, but still clinging to Mrs Glaire's dress that she tried to drag away. "You don't know what I've suffered away in that cold, bitter town, wi'out a word from home, wi'out knowing what they thowt o' me, for I kep' my word. I never wrote once, though I was breaking my heart to write." "But you came back--and now," cried Mrs Glaire. "Yes, yes, I heard--danger--so horrible, I was obliged," panted the girl. "You heard that?" said Mrs Glaire. "Yes, yes," cried Daisy; "and I came to try and save him fro' it." "Of course," cried Mrs Glaire. "Where is your promise?" "Aunt, aunt," sobbed Eve, "she is fainting. Pray spare her."