ming, "Begone, parricide! You would have killed
your own father!" he slammed the trapdoor, and was heard retreating up
the yard with a haste and clatter which indicated his uneasiness.

The four looked at one another. Daylight had fully come. The noise of
the altercation had drawn more than one sleepy face to the window. In a
short time the streets would be alive with people, and even a delay of a
few minutes might bring destruction. They thought of this; and moved
away slowly and reluctantly, Susanne clinging to Adrian's arm, while
Felix strode ahead scowling. But when they had placed a hundred yards or
so between themselves and Toussaint's gates, they stopped, a chill sense
of desolation upon them. Whither were they to go? Felix urged that they
should seek other friends and try them. But Marie declined. If Nicholas
Toussaint dared not take them in, no other of their friends would. She
had given up hope, and longed only to get back to their home, and the
still form, which it seemed to her she should never have deserted.

They were standing discussing this when a cry caused them to turn. A
girl was running hatless along the street; a girl tall and plump of
figure, with a creamy slightly freckled face, a glory of waving golden
hair upon her shoulders, and great grey eyes that could laugh and cry at
once, even as they were doing now. "My poor Marie," she exclaimed,
taking her in her arms; "my poor little one! Come back! You are to come
back at once!" Then disengaging herself, with a blushing cheek, she
allowed Felix to embrace her. But though that young gentleman made full
use of his permission, his face did not clear. "Your father has just
turned my sister from his door," he said bitterly, "as he turned me a
month ago."

She looked at him with a tender upward glance meant for him only.
"Hush!" she begged him. "Do not speak so of my father. And he has sent
to fetch them back. He says he cannot keep them himself, but if they
will come in and rest he will see them safely disposed. Will not that
do?"

"Excellently, Miss Madeline," Adrian cried with gratitude. "And we thank
your father a thousand times."

"Nay, but--" she said slyly--"that permission does not extend to you."

"What matter?"

"What matter if Marie be safe you mean," she replied demurely. "Well, I
would I had so gallant a--clerk," with a glance at her own handsome
lover. "But come, my father is waiting at the gate for us." And she
urged haste, notwithst