fingers shook so that I could hardly open it. Before I had read a
word, the sight of the writing struck a sudden chill through me. The body
of the note was written by the hand of a stranger! And the signature at
the end was traced in the large straggling childish characters which I
remembered so well, when Lucilla had written her first letter to Oscar in
the days when she was blind!

The note was expressed in these strange words:--"I cannot receive you
here; but I can, and will, come to you at your hotel if you will wait for
me. I am not able to appoint a time. I can only promise to watch for my
first opportunity, and to take advantage of it instantly--for your sake
and for mine."

But one interpretation could be placed on such language as this. Lucilla
was not a free agent. Both Oscar and the rector were now obliged to
acknowledge that my view of the case had been the correct one. If it was
impossible for me to be received into the house, how doubly impossible
would it be for the men to gain admission! Oscar, after reading the note,
withdrew to the further end of the room; keeping his thoughts to himself.
Mr. Finch decided on stepping out of his secondary position by forthwith
taking a course of his own.

"Am I to infer," he began, "that it is really useless for me to attempt
to see my own child?"

"Her letter speaks for itself," I replied. "If you attempt to see her,
you will probably be the means of preventing your daughter from coming
here."

"In my parental capacity," continued Mr. Finch, "it is impossible for me
to remain passive. As a brother-clergyman, I have, I conceive, a claim on
the rector of the parish. It is quite likely that notice may have been
already given of this fraudulent marriage. In that case, it is not only
my duty to myself and my child--it is my duty to the Church, to confer
with my reverend colleague. I go to confer with him." He strutted to the
door, and added, "If Lucilla arrives in my absence, I invest you with my
authority, Madame Pratolungo, to detain her until my return." With that
parting charge to me, he walked out.

I looked at Oscar. He came slowly towards me from the other end of the
room.

"You will wait here, of course?" he said.

"Of course. And you?"

"I shall go out for a little while."

"For any particular purpose?"

"No. To get through the time. I am weary of waiting."

I felt positively assured, from the manner in which he answered me, that
he was going--now