, as she truly said," replied Mrs. Boyce,
looking up calmly. "It is not her habit to ask permission of any one."

"Mamma," exclaimed the girl, in her deep voice, "you would not wish to
stop me?"

"No," said Mrs. Boyce, after a pause, "no. You have gone so far, I
understand your wish to do this. Richard,"--she got up and went to
him,--"don't excite yourself about it; shall I read to you, or play a
game with you?"

He looked at her, trembling with anger. But her quiet eye warned him
that he had had threatenings of pain that afternoon. His anger sank into
fear. He became once more irritable and abject.

"Let her gang her gait," he said, throwing himself into a chair. "But I
tell you I shall not put up with this kind of thing much longer,
Marcella."

"I shall not ask you, papa," she said steadily, as she moved towards the
door. Mrs. Boyce paused where she stood, and looked after her daughter,
struck by her words. Mr. Boyce simply took them as referring to the
marriage which would emancipate her before long from any control of his,
and fumed, without finding a reply.

The maid-servant who, by Mrs. Boyce's orders, was to accompany Marcella
to the village, was already at the front door. She carried a basket
containing invalid food for little Willie, and a lighted lantern.

It was a dark night and raining fast. Marcella was fastening up her
tweed skirt in the hall, when she saw Mrs. Boyce hurry along the gallery
above, and immediately afterwards her mother came across the hall to
her.

"You had better take the shawl, Marcella: it is cold and raw. If you are
going to sit up most of the night you will want it."

She put a wrap of her own across Marcella's arm.

"Your father is quite right," she went on. "You have had one horrible
experience to-day already--"

"Don't, mamma!" exclaimed Marcella, interrupting her. Then suddenly she
threw her arms round her mother.

"Kiss me, mamma! please kiss me!"

Mrs. Boyce kissed her gravely, and let herself even linger a moment in
the girl's strong hold.

"You are extraordinarily wilful," she said. "And it is so strange to me
that you think you do any good. Are you sure even that she wants to have
you?"

Marcella's lip quivered. She could not speak, apparently. Waving her
hand to her mother, she joined the maid waiting for her, and the two
disappeared into the blackness.

"But _does_ it do any good?" Mrs. Boyce repeated to herself as she went
back to the drawing-room. "_S