nt of the child's real
name, but did not even know to whom to write. It was true, but she knew
at the same time that, if she would only open the box of papers, she
would not be ignorant of any one point; for those papers she had firmly
resolved never to touch, so that in saying she knew nothing of the
child's identity she would be speaking the bare truth.

At first Henry Dornham was indignant. The child should not be left a
burden and drag on his hands, he declared--it must go to the work-house.

But patient Margaret clasped her arms round his neck, and whispered to
him that the child was so clever, so pretty, she would be a gold-mine to
them in the future--only let them get away from Ashwood, and go to
London, where she could be well trained and taught. He laughed a
sneering laugh, for which, had he been any other than her husband, she
would have hated him.

"Not a bad plan, Maggie," he said; "then she can work to keep us. I,
myself, do not care where we go or what we do, so that no one asks me to
work."

He was easily persuaded to say nothing about their removal, to go to
London without saying anything to his old friends and neighbors of their
intentions. Margaret knew well that so many were interested in the child
that she would not be allowed to take her away if her wish became known.

How long the little cottage at Ashwood had been empty no one knows. It
stood so entirely alone that for weeks together nothing was seen or
known of its inhabitants. Henry Dornham was missed from his haunts. His
friends and comrades wondered for a few days, and then forgot him; they
thought that in all probability he was engaged in some not very
reputable pursuit.

The rector of Castledene--the Rev. John Darnley--was the first really to
miss them. He had always been interested in little Madaline. When he
heard from the shop keepers that Margaret had not been seen in the town
lately, he feared she was ill, and resolved to go and see her. His
astonishment was great when he found the cottage closed and the Dornhams
gone--the place had evidently been empty for some weeks. On inquiry he
found that the time of their departure and the place of their
destination was equally unknown. No one knew whither they had gone or
anything about them. Mr. Darnley was puzzled; it seemed to him very
strange that, after having lived in the place so long, Margaret Dornham
should have left without saying one word to any human being.

"There is a myster