from the room. Swiftly
down the stairs she ran, heedless of the cries of the woman she had left
behind, and out into the wind and rain of the dreary street--fit emblem,
in its forlorn wretchedness, of the future which loomed hopeless before
her.

* * * * * *

Two things added to the poignancy of Penny's unavailing grief in after
years: the innocence of Arthur Spence of any deception (except silence
regarding his past), and the fact that she never knew this until he had
given his life in his country's service. It was then too late to reap
comfort in her supreme sorrow from the knowledge of his uprightness both
to herself and to the wretched woman who had caused her unreflecting
flight on that fatal night.

For many months she had been hidden from all her former acquaintances in
the Convent of Mercy, whose Superior she had long been intimate with.
There she had nursed her baby through an illness which at last proved
fatal. Grief at the loss of her little one, added to her already heavy
burden of trouble, had told upon her own health, and for weeks she had
needed to be nursed herself. After her recovery, as she shrank from
returning home, the good Sisters obtained for her the post of nurse with
our family.

Two years later Stephen Dale died suddenly. Penny had written to him and
to her mother more than once, but got no answer; the intimation of her
father's death was the first communication she had received since leaving
home. Later on a letter was forwarded to her, which had been found among
her father's papers. It was from Spence, and was dated the day following
her flight. In an agony of mind the man had searched for her everywhere,
and failing to discover any trace of her whereabouts, had written to her
under cover to her father. He, poor man, could not send it--even had he
been willing--having no idea of her address.

The letter was a pitiful appeal to Penny to return, and contained a full
explanation of his conduct. The marriage with the woman Millar--never a
happy one--had proved invalid, owing to the survival of her former
husband to a later date. This, however, only became known to Spence
after the woman's intemperate habits had told upon her brain, and landed
her in an asylum. She had really believed that her husband--a worthless
fellow--had died on the day stated. It was characteristic of the
chivalrous nature of the man that Spence shrank from telling her, after