o France. The Whytes missed Reg sadly, and Whyte himself deeply
regretted having advised him to go away, for Amy, instead of noticing
his absence, seemed to become more and more absorbed every day in her
new attraction, that she took no notice whatever of her surroundings.
She made no enquiry for Reg, and scarcely addressed anyone in the house.
The second day after his departure she went out in the same mysterious
manner as before without explanation. Whyte thereupon determined to
follow her.

He saw her take a 'bus going in the direction of the city, and managed
to catch another running close behind it. At Westminster Bridge she
quitted the 'bus, and looked round eagerly, till her gaze rested on a
young man, who was laughing and talking with two others. After waiting
in their vicinity, Whyte saw one of the trio lounge carelessly towards
her and, without raising his hat or making any formal or respectful
greeting, take her hand and kiss her on both cheeks. A roar of laughter
greeted this proceeding from the two companions left on the pavement.

"Well, and how's little Amy to-day?" said Wyck, carelessly.

"Quite well and happy now, Wyck dear, thank you," replied Amy, in a
bright tone, but in a dreamy, absent manner, walking away by his side
along the Embankment.

Whyte remained watching these proceedings, but did not attempt to
interfere. He had seen sufficient, and hailed a return omnibus going
homewards with a heavier heart than ever. "Why did I send Reg away?" he
murmured to himself. "No good will come from this, I see. I'll put a
stop to it, for he can't mean square." The whole journey through he
puzzled his brains to find an explanation for this peculiar conduct of
Amy's so unusual with her. On his arrival home he told his wife all he
had seen, and in their helplessness the two old people could only offer
a silent prayer to Heaven to protect the child they loved so devotedly.

When Amy returned from her visit, Whyte went to her and said:

"Amy, I forbid you to see that man again."

"You cannot stop me, dad, for he said I was to go," she answered,
looking at him in a curiously absent way.

"We shall see," he answered, vaguely, for her opposition startled him.
Amy said nothing, but passed on to her room and locked herself in.

The next day, and for several days afterwards, she eluded Whyte's
vigilance with a cunning so abnormal, and so unlike herself, that the
poor old man was nearly driven frantic with perpl