After a big meal, little Bessie climbs upon Sir Donald's lap and is soon asleep. This pretty picture greets Esther and Charles on their return from a lake stroll.

Esther's sympathies are aroused. She arranges the softest kind of a cot in her own room. The downy spreads seem too heavy. Looking at the portrait of Sister Edith, Esther's eyes glow with a peculiar light.

Having gently washed dirt-stains from the little hands, face, and feet, Esther leads the way to where Sir Donald reluctantly deposits his new ward.

A load lifts from his heart. Temporary specific is found for that persistent heartsickness. The remedy seems so natural. Recent Paris and Calcutta retrospect chides his dullness of perception. He now fears "Granny" may veto the treatment.

Esther does not sleep well. She makes too many inspections of that cot.

The stone-bruises on Bessie's feet may prove fatal! What can cure the sun-browned face and hands? Suppose the child should roll off on the floor!

Two delicately embroidered handkerchiefs, saturated with healing lotion, she bandages around those bruised soles. Tanned face and hands are treated with other soothing liquid that does no harm. Chairs are placed at sides and ends of the cot. Bessie is "bottled" in "effective blockade" of cushioned upholstery.

A strange noise is heard. Intently watching the little sleeper, Esther locates this vocal mystery. She fears Bessie's throat and lungs are affected.

The spreads do not fit. A strange impulse comes. It dilates her vision.

She trembles a little.

Looking through the open door, Esther sees the smiling portraits of her mother and Edith. Both profiles approve her caprice. She softly steps to a curtained alcove. There, in mahogany and curved-gla.s.s wardrobe, are relics of sister Edith.

Esther selects some downy hand-embroidered silk and lace-fringed spreads. These replace those covering that besieged cot.

With tremulous content she takes a long, approving look at Bessie and extinguishes the light.

Straits of one self-banished outlaw are not dreamed of this night.

Indefinite perils and unmerited gallows' menace to this interesting erstwhile suitor startle not love-loyal girlish fancy.

Little bruised feet, sunburnt face and hands, with straggling blond curls, usurp such function.

There is rustle of wings and happy smiling of familiar faces! The panorama concludes with vision of sleeping waif, upon love-beleaguered cot, illumined by mystic halo, and some high-browed watchers, gazing from child to maiden, uttering strangely significant speech about "one of the least of these."

Upon the next morning both Sir Donald and Esther rise late. Bessie still sleeps. With some doubt Esther leads her father to the cot. She is not quite sure about that quilt episode.

Sir Donald gazes at the child, and his eyes grow l.u.s.trous. Stooping down, he kisses the baby brow. Giving Esther a querulous smile, he returns to the library.

Weeks have pa.s.sed since the arrival of Bessie at Northfield. Sir Donald made conscientious inquiry for "Granny." No one knows the child's antecedents. Bessie can furnish no clearer clews to her ident.i.ty. She is happy in her new home. Many little surprises for the pleasure of Bessie are planned by the generous Esther. Interest in childish whims is so genuine as to check pensive, abstracted moods. These ministrations revive drooping spirits. Bessie's eccentricities become Northfield household tonic.

Commenting on this change to Esther, Sir Donald says: "Relaxed emotional tension and less concentrated musings permit more hopeful view and brighter horoscope. I now feel greatly relieved. This generous disposition of yours I now regard as acme of human dower. Its Paris and Calcutta whims once seemed pretty symptoms of harmless infatuation. I am now impressed with the mystic coherence of detached coincidents. There is ever-widening horizon to that which 'cometh without observation.'"

Charles Randolph is in London. Much interested in the issue of Lanier action, Charles chafes under long delays. He so earnestly had tried to cheer Esther by favorable comments upon the conduct of Oswald Langdon and by hopeful words about early vindication as to become a most zealous advocate.

As neither Lanier knew Charles, Sir Donald consented that he visit London.

Charles called at detective headquarters. Through his father's recommendation he was taken into full confidence. He a.s.sumed a disguise and shadowed the Laniers. Both at that bas.e.m.e.nt room and upon the Thames he noted Lanier crafty shifts and fearfully significant crazes.

Soon after reaching London, Charles became much interested in a middle-aged gentleman and a young lady who sometimes dined together at the same hotel where he was stopping. His diary tells its own story:

"Both have most serious, refined manners, and talk little except with each other. There seems to be some near relationship between them, but just what, I cannot determine. Occasionally the girl dines alone. Each has a low, well-modulated voice. It seems to me that there is restraint in their speech.

"The man has a dissemblingly observing glance, and while apparently unconcerned, notes all. The girl's face wears an expression of sad yet almost hopeful pensiveness.

"I rarely have seen so striking a girlish face. Such finely molded features with mobile lights and shades suggest romantic interest. It seems to me that this beautiful, pensive young woman is capable of both deathless devotion and much zeal in any fixed resolve.

"That her companion is no common mortal I clearly see. However, this impressible young man is most concerned with feminine traits.

"It dawns upon me that both are aware of my presence. There is an almost imperceptible feigning of unconcern. Occasionally their eyes exchange significant glances, followed by commonplace remark or quiet reserve.

"It seems to me that there is coincidence in dining-hours. These people never precede, but almost invariably follow my appearance in the dining-room. At rare intervals I have detected interest in their observations of my table locality. The girl has slightly colored at my guarded admiring glances, and seemed nervously affected.

"Averse to needless or indiscreet notoriety at this particular time, I refrain from inquiry. Much as antecedents and purposes of these people interest me it will not be wise to risk vocal curiosity. I feel not only the restraints of good breeding, but of the situation. The Lanier exposures may be not even remotely hampered by sentimental interest in this young woman with most potent suggestions of a romantic past.

"I resolve to dismiss this subject from further thought. I will devote my whole time clearing up the Thames tragedy. This resolution is not so easy to carry out. That fascinating, pathetically mobile face confronts my inner vision. It seems to invoke sympathy and help in some indefinite crisis.

"Such claims not lightly may be disregarded. Intangible verities are most insistent.

"Even when spying upon Paul Lanier's crazed performances, I often am startled by reflection of that other face with its questioning pathos of mute appeal.

"There has been a break in these regular nightly tableaus. Paul fails to appear. For some reason this insane actor abandons his accustomed river pantomimes. This is reported at headquarters. I wonder what has occurred to cause the change. Close watch of Lanier movements makes it certain that Paul left the cellar room, but had not returned. I spent most of the night along the river, but Paul did not appear.

"At the office there is much curiosity, but it is thought probable that upon the following night Paul will resume his fearful infatuation. He again fails to appear. An employe is sent to Northfield.

"I am absorbed in this unexpected change from Lanier habits. It is reported that Pierre knows not of his son's whereabouts. The older Lanier had gone out disguised in search of Paul. He had spent all of the previous night along the river-banks. Another day and night pa.s.s.

Pierre has made inquiries at police headquarters for any news of unusual interest.

"I now recall seeing neither of those interesting strangers within the last three days. I wonder if they really are gone. Perhaps I have been so much absorbed in disappearance of Paul Lanier as not to observe them.

"Upon reflection this is impossible. The sight of that sorrowful face would have riveted my attention. I would have noted the suggestive, dissembling, observing unconcern of her companion.

"There seems connection between the disappearance of these and that of Paul Lanier. The thought is startling. I now see some sure relation between the conduct of these strangers and the Lanier case. Such erratic conviction is most illogical, but positive. It is one of those soul-sights.

"I am sitting in my room at the hotel. It is the fourth night after Paul's last crazed performance upon the Thames. I see no natural or logical coherence between Paul's disappearance and that of these interesting strangers, but cannot free myself from this queer conviction. I am feeling an uneasy sense of the mysterious. What is transpiring at Northfield?"

There is a timid tap! Going to the door, he is surprised to see a veiled female figure. The woman steps into the room.

Making a hurried, nervous apology for her strange conduct, she urges Charles to go home without delay. "There may be danger to those you love."

Much mystified and alarmed by such unlooked-for warning, he begs for an explicit statement.

The reply rebukes him.

"Is it not enough that I come to warn you? Must I explain private matters? Would I come thus without good reason? Why not act promptly and ask no questions?"

These hurried interrogatories are both command and appeal. Charles promptly apologizes, giving a.s.surances that he will at once heed her warning. In persuasive tones he asks:

"May I see you again?"

The answer comes: