d whiter,
began to hear the voices indistinctly, and to feel as if her arms did
not belong to her. It would never do to faint in court, and vexed as she
was to leave, she took the first opportunity of speaking to her father.

"I think I must go," she whispered, "I can't stand this heat."

"Come now, then," said Raeburn, "and I can see you out. This witness
has nothing worth listening to. Take notes for me, Tom. I'll be back
directly."

They had only just passed the door leading into Westminster Hall,
however, when Tom sent a messenger hurrying after them. An important
witness had that minute been called, and Raeburn, who was, as usual,
conducting his own case, could not possibly miss the evidence.

"I can go alone," said Erica. "Don't stop."

But even in his haste, Raeburn, glancing at the crowd of curious faces,
was thoughtful for his child.

"No," he said, hurriedly. "Wait a moment, and I'll send some one to
you."

She would have been wiser if she had followed him back into the court;
but, having once escaped from the intolerable atmosphere, she was not
at all inclined to return to it. She waited where he had left her,
just within Westminster Hall, at the top of the steps leading from
the entrance to the court. The grandeur of the place, its magnificent
proportions, terminating in the great, upward sweep of steps, and the
mellow stained window, struck her more than ever after coming from the
crowded and inconvenient little court within. The vaulted roof, with its
quaintly carved angels, was for the most part dim and shadowy, but here
and there a ray of sunshine, slanting in through the clerestory windows,
changed the sombre tones to a golden splendor. Erica, very susceptible
to all high influences, was more conscious of the ennobling influence
of light, and space, and beauty than of the curious eyes which were
watching her from below. But all at once her attention was drawn to a
group of men who stood near her, and her thoughts were suddenly brought
back to the hard, every-day world, from which for a brief moment she had
escaped. With a quick, apprehensive glance, she noted that among them
was a certain Sir Algernon Wyte, a man who never lost an opportunity of
insulting her father.

"Did you see the fellow?" said one of the group. "He came to the door
just now."

"And left his fair daughter to be a spectacle to men and angels?" said
Sir Algernon.

Then followed words so monstrous, so intolerable, that Eri