‘And so,’ she said, after a time, ‘that was how he found you out. I will not call it fate--it seems like God. And yet, for such a childish, small offence, it was a dreadful penalty. Poor boy! you thought to revenge yourself a little more on me--and instead you have brought upon your own head--this----’ In the silence that followed--for what could John reply?--there came a slight intrusion of sound from the house. Some one went out or came in downstairs, a simple sound, such as in the natural state of affairs would not even have roused any attention. It awakened all the smouldering panic in Mrs. Sandford’s face. She started, and caught John by the arm. ‘What’s that? What’s that? It is some one coming--he is coming back.’ ‘No, mother. It is the people below.’ ‘Where is he?’ she cried, huskily, recovering herself, yet not loosing John’s arm. ‘Where is he? Where does he live?--not here, don’t say he is here.’ ‘I don’t know where he lives. He has never told me, and he left no message, no address.’ ‘No address,’ she said. ‘You don’t know where he lives, to stop him, but he knows where you live, to hold you in his power. I will meet him in the face when I go out from your door.’ The horror in her looks was so great that John tried to soothe her. ‘There is no reason to fear that. He went away, though I had asked them to wait. Perhaps he will come no more.’ ‘Do me one favour, John,’ she cried, grasping his arm closer; ‘do this one thing for me. Before he can come home again, before he can find you out, this very night, if you are safe so long, leave this place. Find somewhere else to live in. Oh! you shall have no trouble. I will find you a place; but leave this, leave it now at once. Leave him no clue. What? he has left you none, you say? Why should you hesitate? Come away with me, John. For the love of God! and if you have learned to feel any respect or any pity for your mother--for the poor woman whom once you called Emily---- John, think what it was to me that you should call me Emily, that you should refuse me the name of mother. And yet you were my boy, for whom I had denied myself that you might take no harm. Oh, if you have anything to make up to me for that, do it now. Come away with me to-night, leave this place, let him find no clue, no clue!’ Something of this was said almost in dumb show, her voice giving way in her passion of entreaty. She had clasped his arm in both her hands as her excitement grew. Her breath was hot on John’s cheek. There was something in the clasp of her hands, in the force of her passionate determination, that made him feel like a child in her hold.