He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. “Have you not missed me?” He inquired. Wood in a sharp tone. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account. . There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. She stepped on to the pavement almost before him, and his blood turned almost to ice as he saw that she was not alone. She spoke slowly. He had drawn a horrid picture of the fate that awaited mademoiselle when once the populace discovered her relationship to the Valade family. Come back—you must come back. Keep your eye upon the lad. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night.
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