seizing both his arms as though to
support her.

"Who knows? Who can say that it be true till further tidings shall
come? Come in, Marion. It is not well that we should discuss it
here."

"Is it true? Oh, father;--oh, father; it will kill me."

"Nay, Marion, not that. After all, the lad was little more than a
stranger to thee."

"A stranger?"

"How many weeks is it since first thou saw'st him? And how often?
But two or three times. I am sorry for him;--if it be true; if it be
true! I liked him well."

"But I have loved him."

"Nay, Marion, nay; thou shouldst moderate thyself."

"I will not moderate myself." Then she disengaged herself from his
arm. "I loved him,--with all my heart, and all my strength; nay, with
my whole soul. If it be so as that paper says, then I must die too.
Oh, father, is it true, think you?"

He paused a while before he answered, examining himself what it might
be best that he should say as to her welfare. As for himself, he
hardly knew what he believed. These papers were always in search of
paragraphs, and would put in the false and true alike,--the false
perhaps the sooner, so as to please the taste of their readers. But
if it were true, then how bad would it be to give her false hopes!
"There need be no ground to despair," he said, "till we shall hear
again in the morning."

"I know he is dead."

"Not so, Marion. Thou canst know nothing. If thou wilt bear thyself
like a strong-hearted girl, as thou art, I will do this for thee.
I will go across to the young lord's house at Hendon at once, and
inquire there as to his safety. They will surely know if aught of ill
has happened to their master."

So it was done. The poor old man, after his long day's labour,
without waiting for his evening meal, taking only a crust with him
in his pocket, got into a cab on that cold November evening, and had
himself driven by suburban streets and lanes to Hendon Hall. Here the
servants were much surprised and startled by the inquiries made. They
had heard nothing. Lord Hampstead and his sister were expected home
on the following day. Dinner was to be prepared for them, and fires
had already been lighted in the rooms. "Dead!" "Killed out hunting!"
"Trodden to death in the field!" Not a word of it had reached Hendon
Hall. Nevertheless the housekeeper, when the paragraph was shown to
her, believed every word of it. And the servants believed it. Thus
the poor Quaker returned home with but very little