cheque had been a rash one, and the echo of her father’s voice came back on her, saying, ‘Surely, Mary, you know better than to believe a word out of Flinders’s mouth.’ But then she thought of her mother’s rare tears glistening in her eyes, and the answer, ‘Poor Alfred! I cannot give him up. Everything has been against him.’ It was quite dark before Silverton was reached, at half-past five, with three quarters of an hour to spare before the other travellers were expected. Most of their fellow passengers had got out at previous stations, so that Constance was able to open the door and jump out so perilously before the train had quite stopped, that a porter caught her with a sharp word of reproof. She grasped Dolores’s hand and scudded across the platform, giving the return tickets almost before the collector was ready. A cautious guard even exclaimed, ‘What’s those two young women up to?’ but was answered at once, ‘They’re all right! That’s nought but one of the old parson’s daughters, as have been out with a return to Darminster.’ ‘A sweetheartin’?’ demanded one of the bystanders, and there was a laugh. Constance heard the tones and vulgar laugh, though not the words, and she was in such a panic as she hurried down the steps that she did not stop to look out for a cab. The place was small, and they were not very plentiful at any time, and she was mortally afraid, though she hardly knew why, of being over-taken and questioned by Colonel Mohun, who might know his niece, though he would not know her; but Dolores was tired, and had a headache, and did not at all like the walk in the dirt, and fog, and dark, after turning from the gas lit station. ‘We were to have a cab, Constance.’ ‘We can’t,’ was the answer, still hurrying on. ‘He would come out upon us.’ ‘He is much more likely to overtake us this way!’ said Dolores, thinking of her uncle’s long strides. ‘Well, we can’t turn back now!’ said Constance, getting almost into a run, which lasted till they were past the paddock gate. Dolores, panting to keep up with her, had half a mind to turn up there and go straight home; but there might be any number of oxen in the way, and almost worse, she might meet Jasper and Wilfred, or if Uncle Reginald overtook her, what would he think? The pair slackened their pace a little when they had satisfied themselves that the break in the dark hedge beside them was the gate. They heard wheels, and presently saw the lamps of a cab, bearing down, halt at the gate they had left behind, and turn in. ‘We should have been off first,’ said Dolores. ‘If we could have got a cab in time?’ ‘One can always get cabs.’ ‘Oh! no, not at all for certain.’ ‘This is a nasty, stupid, out-of-the-way place,’ said Dolores, wanting to say something cross. ‘It isn’t a vulgar place, full of traffic,’ returned Constance, equally cross. ‘Well, I never meant to walk home in this way! I’m sure my feet are wet. I wish I had waited and gone with Uncle Regie.’