om the advances of designing persons. When you come of age you may
follow your own fancies. Until then my conscience demands, and the law
allows, that I should spare no pains to protect you from your own folly.
We start from Waterloo at four." Girdlestone turned for the door, but
looked round as he was leaving the room. "May God forgive you," he said
solemnly, raising his lean hands towards the ceiling, "for what you have
done this day!"

Poor Kate, left to herself, was much concerned by this fresh misfortune.
She knew that her guardian had power to carry out his plan, and that
there was no appeal from his decision. What could she do? She had not
a friend in the wide world to whom she could turn for advice or
assistance. It occurred to her to fly to the Dimsdales at Kensington,
and throw herself upon their compassion. It was only the thought of Tom
which prevented her. In her heart she had fully exonerated him, yet
there was much to be explained before they could be to each other as of
old. She might write to Mrs. Dimsdale, but then her guardian had not
told her what part of Hampshire they were going to. She finally came to
the conclusion that it would be better to wait, and to write when she
had reached her destination. In the meantime, she went drearily to her
room and began packing, aided by the ruddy-cheeked maid, Rebecca.

At half-past three a cab drove up to the door, and the old merchant
stepped out of it. The boxes were thrown upon the top, and the young
lady curtly ordered to get in. Girdlestone took his seat beside her,
and gave a sign to the cabman to drive on. As they rattled out of the
square, Kate looked back at the great gloomy mansion in which she had
spent the last three years of her life. Had she known what the future
was to bring, it is possible that she would have clung even to that
sombre and melancholy old house as to an ark of safety.

Another cab passed through Eccleston Square that evening--a cab which
bore a pale-faced and wild-eyed young man, who looked ever and anon
impatiently out of the window to see if he were nearing his destination.
Long before reaching No. 69 he had opened the door, and was standing
upon the step. The instant that the cab pulled up he sprang off, and
rang loudly at the great brass bell which flanked the heavy door.

"Is Mr. Girdlestone in?" he asked, as Rebecca appeared at the door.

"No, sir."

"Miss Harston, is she at home?" he said excitedly.