that awed or grieved her. After a while her arms rose slowly, and
opened with a gentle caressing action--an embrace strangely
offered to the empty air! "No," she said to herself, sadly, after
waiting a moment. "More perhaps when to-morrow comes--no more
to-day." She looked up at the clear blue sky. "The beautiful
sunlight! the merciful sunlight!" she murmured. "I should have
died if it had happened in the dark."

Once more she called to the dog; and once more she walked slowly
away.

"Is she going home, papa?' the child asked.

"We will try and find out," the father answered.

He was by this time convinced that the poor creature was in no
condition to be permitted to go out without some one to take care
of her. From motives of humanity, he was resolved on making the
attempt to communicate with her friends.

III.

THE lady left the Gardens by the nearest gate; stopping to lower
her veil before she turned into the busy thoroughfare which leads
to Kensington. Advancing a little way along the High Street, she
entered a house of respectable appearance, with a card in one of
the windows which announced that apartments were to let.

Mr. Rayburn waited a minute--then knocked at the door, and asked
if he could see the mistress of the house. The servant showed him