ned in the captain's
mind--the doubt whether the course was clear before him. The motive
of her flight from home was evidently what the handbills assumed it
to be--a reckless fancy for going on the stage. "One of two things,"
thought Wragge to himself, in his logical way. "She's worth more than
fifty pounds to me in her present situation, or she isn't. If she is,
her friends may whistle for her. If she isn't, I have only to keep her
till the bills are posted." Fortified by this simple plan of action, the
captain returned to the charge, and politely placed Magdalen between the
two inevitable alternatives of trusting herself to him, on the one hand,
or of returning to her friends, on the other.

"I respect independence of character wherever I find it," he said, with
an air of virtuous severity. "In a young and lovely relative, I more
than respect--I admire it. But (excuse the bold assertion), to walk on
a way of your own, you must first have a way to walk on. Under existing
circumstances, where is _your_ way? Mr. Huxtable is out of the question,
to begin with."

"Out of the question for to-night," said Magdalen; "but what hinders
me from writing to Mr. Huxtable, and making my own private arrangements
with him for to-morrow?"

"Granted with all my heart--a hit, a palpable hit. Now for my turn. To
get to to-morrow (excuse the bold assertion, once more), you must first
pass through to-night. Where are you to sleep?"

"Are there no hotels in York?"

"Excellent hotels for large families; excellent hotels for single
gentlemen. The very worst hotels in the world for handsome young ladies
who present themselves alone at the door without male escort, without a
maid in attendance, and without a single article of luggage. Dark as it
is, I think I could see a lady's box, if there was anything of the sort
in our immediate neighborhood."

"My box is at the cloak-room. What is to prevent my sending the ticket
for it?"

"Nothing--if you want to communicate your address by means of your
box--nothing whatever. Think; pray think! Do you really suppose that the
people who are looking for you are such fools as not to have an eye
on the cloakroom? Do you think they are such fools--when they find you
don't come to Mr. Huxtable's at eight to-night--as not to inquire at all
the hotels? Do you think a young lady of your striking appearance (even
if they consented to receive you) could take up her abode at an inn
without becoming the subje