self in this cold-blooded way in our
hearing!"

"Ah, but, my dear, I was not talking about love," said Caspar, lightly.
"I was talking about 'fondness,' which is a very different matter. You
did not say that your maid, Kingston, _loved_ you--I suppose she was
hardly likely to go that length--you said that she was fond of you. Very
probably. But fondness has its limits."

Lesley smiled in reply, and did not utter the thought that occurred to
her. What she really believed was that Kingston was not only "fond" of
her, after the instinctive fashion of a dumb creature that one feeds,
but loved her, as one woman loves another. Although her democratic
feelings came to her through her father's teaching, or by inheritance
from him, she did not quite like to say this to him: he might think it
foolish to believe that a servant whom she had not known for very many
weeks actually loved her; and yet she had the conviction that Kingston's
attachment was deeper and more sincere than that of many a woman who
claimed to be her friend. And she was both grieved and puzzled by
Kingston's disappearance.

For this was on Monday morning, and the woman had not come back to Mr.
Brooke's. Great had been the astonishment of every one in the house when
it was found that the quiet, well-spoken, well-behaved Mary Kingston,
who had hitherto proved herself so trustworthy and so conscientious, had
gone away--disappeared utterly and entirely, without leaving a word of
explanation behind. She had last been seen on the pavement, shortly
before midnight, assisting a lady to get into a hansom. Nobody had seen
her re-enter the house. It seemed as if she had been spirited away. She
had gone without a bonnet or shawl, in her plain black dress and white
cap and apron, as if she meant to return in a minute or two, and she had
not appeared again. The shawl that she had taken with her was not
missed, for Miss Brooke continued for some time under the impression
that it had been lent to one of the visitors.

The conversation recorded above took place at Mr. Brooke's
luncheon-table. It was not often that he was present at this meal, but
on this occasion he had joined his sister and daughter, and questioned
them with considerable interest about Kingston. After lunch, he put his
hand gently on Lesley's arm, just as she was leaving the dining-room,
and said, in a tone where sympathy was veiled with banter--

"Never mind, my dear. We will get you another maid, who wi