"Is there nobody here that can speak English?" he exclaimed, pathetically. This was an utterly unforeseen crisis, full of difficulty and anxiety; at the moment he would have exchanged all his scholarly knowledge of dead languages for as good an acquaintance with colloquial French. Where was the train that had just disappeared bound for? Was it going to Paris, or was John Morley carrying away Hester to some still more obscure hiding-place than Ecquemonville? This last was possible, if he was not quite sane, and was unwilling to return to Little Aston. Or perhaps they intended to go back to Ecquemonville. The driver of the diligence very probably knew that, and where they had taken tickets for; but how could he communicate with him? He was too deeply absorbed in these reflections to care very greatly for the unblinking eyelids and unabashed stare of the breathless spectators about him, each one of whom seemed afraid he should miss some eccentricity of the Englishman's behaviour.

"How doyedo?" said a voice at Carl's side, dwelling long upon the first word and running the other three into one. He turned quickly

round and saw a bright but sallow face, with black hair drawn tight from it, and confined by a pretty little white cap. The eyes meeting his were dark, and smiled with a somewhat anxious expression, as the speaker awaited the effect of her salutation.

“Thank heaven you can speak English!" exclaimed Carl, fervently, taking the little woman's hand eagerly into his, and looking down upon her with a flush of gladness upon his embarrassed face.

"How doyedo?" she inquired again, with greater confidence.

"Oh, quite well, thank you!" said Carl, rapidly. "I want to know where yonder train is going to ?"

He pointed down the line, where the last streak of smoke was quickly vanishing, and she followed the direction of his finger with her bright eyes, but there was an expression of uneasiness in them.

"I you no comprends no," she said, shaking her head anxiously; "how doyedo?"

"I want to know," persisted Carl, "if that train is going to Paris?"

He pronounced the word Paris well enough

for her to understand it, and she caught at it quickly. But he had come direct from there, and could not wish to return, she thought.

He continued pointing down the line, and repeating his question, "Is it going to Paris?"

"No, no,” she answered, shaking her head emphatically, and afterwards waving her hand comprehensively about the surrounding country, "non, non; pas à Paris."

The audience were enjoying this unintelligible interview with great zest; but Carl's hope had perished altogether. Hester was lost to him at the very time he had expected to find her. He sighed a heavy sigh of vexation and perplexity; but he could not help smiling at the solicitude of the little Frenchwoman, who looked into his face with an air of disappointment.

"How doyedo?" she repeated, with a desire to afford him a forlorn comfort by her knowledge of his language.

He answered only by another troubled smile, and broke through the circle surrounding him. There was a time-table near the window of the ticket office, and by dint of profound and repeated study Carl made sure that there was

no train to Paris stopping at the little station until the same hour the next day.

He pointed it out to his new friend, and made her understand that he must return to Paris by that train. In the meantime she took him into her charge, and conducted him to an hotel, where he was entertained with the utmost hospitality and curiosity. But he was too fully occupied with anxious thoughts concerning John Morley and Hester to be conscious either of kindness

or inquisitiveness. His anxiety grew almost intolerable before the moment came when he seated himself in the train which was to convey him back to Paris.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AT HOME AGAIN.

FOUR days after Robert Waldron returned to Little Aston, John Morley and Hester were on their way thither. They were going home gladly; yet with a solemn gladness, for a dark shadow fell across the future. The thought of Rose was upon both their hearts. How would they meet her? In what relationship could she stand to them in the future? Even Hester felt the terrible weight and difficulty of this question. She clung more closely to her father in this time of conflict, and scarcely gave Carl a thought as they were passing through London. He left all the arrangements of their journey to her; and she, with the intolerance of suspense natural to her years, would not stop for rest on the way. But both of them shrank from the idea of being recognised at Little Aston station; so they left the train about two miles from it, at a village where neither of them was known.

It was a soft, dark, soundless night of autumn, with no breeze abroad to rustle the