Might he not for instance have said, “What if a certain being should even now be putting in my way the honour and gladness of helping this woman—making me his messenger to her?”

What if his soul was too impatient to listen for the next tick of the clock of eternity, and was left therefore to declare there was no such clock going! Ought he not even now to have been capable of thinking that there might be a being with a design for his creatures yet better than merely to make them happy? What if, that gained, the other must follow!

As he drew near the house he began to wonder what to do if Miss Wylder had gone to her room—how was he to find her? He did not know where her room was. He only knew that when she went up the stairs, she turned to the right at the top—and he knew no more.

He entered the house softly, went along a wide passage, and arrived at the foot of the great staircase which ascended in a half-oval, just in time to see at the top the reflection of a candle disappearing to the right. There were many chances against its being Barbara’s, but with an almost despairing recklessness, he darted up and, turning, again saw the reflection of the candle from the wall of a hallway that crossed the corridor. He followed as swiftly and lightly as he could, and at the corner all but knocked down an elderly maid, whose initial fright gave way to anger the moment she saw who had run into her.

“I need to see Miss Wylder!” said Richard hurriedly.

“You have no call to be in this part of the house,” returned the woman.

“I can’t stop to explain,” answered Richard. “Please tell me which is her room.”

“Indeed I will not!”

“When she knows my business, she will be glad I came to her.”

“You may find it for yourself.”

“Then will you take a message to her for me?”

“I am not Miss Wylder’s maid!” she replied. “Neither is it my place to wait on my fellow servants.”

She turned away, tossing her head, and rounded the corner into the corridor.

Richard looked down the passage. A light was burning at the other end, with only a few doors in it. With a sudden resolve to go straight ahead, he called out—

“Miss Wylder!” and again, “Miss Wylder!”

A door opened and out peeped Barbara’s dainty little head. She saw Richard, gave one glance in the opposite direction, and signalled him to come to her. He did so. She was in her nightgown—it was not her candle he had followed, but its light had led him to her.

“What is it?” she said hurriedly. “Don’t speak loudly, lady Ann might hear you!”

“There is a girl in desperate trouble—” began Richard.