use, "if Sir Marmaduke
does not come home very quickly." Nevertheless he quite ignored any
legal power that might be brought to bear against him as to the
restitution of the child to its father.

CHAPTER LXI.

PARKER'S HOTEL, MOWBRAY STREET.

Within a week of the occurrence which is related in the last chapter,
there came a telegram from Southampton to the parsonage at St.
Diddulph's, saying that Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley had reached
England. On the evening of that day they were to lodge at a small
family hotel in Baker Street, and both Mrs. Trevelyan and Nora were
to be with them. The leave-taking at the parsonage was painful, as
on both sides there existed a feeling that affection and sympathy
were wanting. The uncle and aunt had done their duty, and both Mrs.
Trevelyan and Nora felt that they ought to have been demonstrative
and cordial in their gratitude;--but they found it impossible to
become so. And the rector could not pretend but that he was glad to
be rid of his guests. There were, too, some last words about money to
be spoken, which were grievous thorns in the poor man's flesh. Two
bank notes, however, were put upon his table, and he knew that unless
he took them he could not pay for the provisions which his unwelcome
visitors had consumed. Surely there never was a man so cruelly
ill-used as had been Mr. Outhouse in all this matter. "Another such
winter as that would put me in my grave," he said, when his wife
tried to comfort him after they were gone. "I know that they have
both been very good to us," said Mrs. Trevelyan, as she and her
sister, together with the child and the nurse, hurried away towards
Baker Street in a cab, "but I have never for a moment felt that
they were glad to have us." "But how could they have been glad to
have us," she added afterwards, "when we brought such trouble with
us?" But they to whom they were going now would receive her with
joy;--would make her welcome with all her load of sorrows, would give
to her a sympathy which it was impossible that she should receive
from others. Though she might not be happy now,--for in truth how
could she be ever really happy again,--there would be a joy to her in
placing her child in her mother's arms, and in receiving her father's
warm caresses. That her father would be very vehement in his anger
against her husband she knew well,--for Sir Marmaduke was a vehement
man. But there would be some support for her in the very violenc