this house. The
servant's name you say was Meg, and she had your brother when you
last saw him. Where do you think he is now?"

Elsie explained Mrs. Donaldson's promise, and her threat that he
should be turned into the streets to die if she displeased her. There
was an audible murmur in the court, which made Elsie conscious for
the first time that there were people listening to her. "I know she
will do it," Elsie went on, catching her breath rapidly. "She may
have done it now."

"You may rest easy about that," the magistrate said, kindly. "She is
in a place where she can do nothing of the kind."

But Elsie was only half re-assured. The next moment, however, she had
a new alarm in the question, "Did you ever hear the name of Lucy
Murdoch?"

"Yes," Elsie faltered, very unwillingly.

The old gentleman looked at her suspiciously.

"Where did you hear it?" he inquired.

"In the house at Edinburgh."

"Well now, who did you hear speak of Lucy Murdoch?"

"Meg begged me not to tell, and I said I wouldn't," Elsie replied, in
much distress. "Meg was very kind to Duncan."

"Ah well! you need not answer that question," the old gentleman said,
with a smile. "Tell me your own proper name, and where your own
mother lives?"

"Elsie McDougall. We lived on Dunster Moor," Elsie replied, with a
conscious blush. "She made me call myself Effie Donaldson."

"A lovely place, too," the old gentleman said. "And you ran away? I
hope you like it. Do you know that children who have run away have
before now disappeared, and never been heard of again?"

Elsie only cast down her eyes in frightened silence.

"And what became of them, do you suppose?" he went on sternly.
"Perhaps they were killed, perhaps they died of fright, and hunger,
and misery. I should not like to say; only I know they never returned
any more to their homes."

The stern words were too much for Elsie. The sense of her own
loneliness and danger, her separation from Duncan, and the
misfortunes she had led him into, came over her with overwhelming
force, and she wept bitterly.

"It is fortunate for you that you have fallen into the hands of the
law," the old gentleman added, more kindly. "You will be safe, and
will by-and-by be allowed to go back to your mother. That will do."

She was then conducted out of the court by the officer who had
brought her there, put into a cab, and driven back to the great
court-yard, where she was once more delivered over to the cha