had only stopped her!" he cried. "But of course you didn't know."

With that, he left the woman standing in the street, and hurried away.
Very soon he was walking swiftly along the London Road. The one thought in
his mind was that he was on the track of his child at last. He passed the
wayside cottage where the woman lived who had seen Marian go by, and went
on until, moved by a sudden impulse, he paused to rest his arms upon the
top of a five-barred gate, and look upon the field into which it led. Then
he uttered a cry, and, tearing open the gate, strode into the field. Lying
amidst the grass was a little shoe. It was one of Marian's without a
doubt. Had he not made it himself? He picked it up and hid it away in the
pocket of his coat. Marian had evidently wandered that way, and was lost
in the large wood which lay on the other side of the field. To reach the
wood was the work of a few moments. Plunging amongst the trees, he soon
came upon a pool, near the margin of which were some prostrate tree
trunks. Near one of these the ground was littered with shreds of what
might have been articles of clothing; and amongst them was a long strip of
print, which had a familiar look. He picked it up and examined it closely.
Then the truth flashed upon him. It was one of the strings of Marian's
sun-bonnet! Holding it loosely between his finger and thumb, he gazed upon
the foul green waters of the pond. Did they cover the body of his child?
He had no further thought of searching the wood. With a shudder he turned
away, and hurried home.

Aunt Jemima had bestirred herself, and was moving listlessly about the
house.

"Jemima, do you know this?" She took the strip of print into her hand.

"Yes," she said, "it is----"

He finished her sentence. "----the string of her bonnet."

"Yes."

He told her where he had found it, and showed her the shoe.

The pond was dragged, but nothing was discovered. They searched the wood,
and scoured the country for miles around; but they came upon no further
trace of the missing child.

CHAPTER VII.

WHAT HAD BECOME OF THE CHILD?

When Marian left her father's house, she had but one idea in her mind. Her
sole desire was to escape from Aunt Jemima; and it seemed to her that the
most effectual method of doing so was to get into the country as fast as
she could. It was not likely, she thought, that there would be any Aunt
Jemimas in so pleasa