The Democratic advocate., 1907-08-16

into the world, where so many girls earned
their own living.
She could earn hers, too; the last gov
erness had been wont to admire her pupil S
dancing, and to say that she had fortune
in her feet.
Why should she not turn those mos.
useful members to account?
When the first shock was over Lettice
laughed to herself softly. How easily
her father could have rid himself of her
presence had he only known it, and now
two strangers had done the deed for him !!
The girl thrust the scarlet poppies into
chair where they were found days after
ward, and hurried with light steps down
to the garden and hurriedly began to
collect few of her most valuable trinkets,
all the money she possessed and some neces-
sary articles of clothing.
She must. not excite suspicious, she
knew, by carrying too much away with
her; the servants or any one who might
chance to see her must think that she was
going for walk
She remembered, even in her hurry,
that heroines who ran away almost invari-
ably left a note on their pincushion. She
wrote hasty scrawl, telling her father that
she had found out his secret, and that she
was going to rid him of an unwelcome
daughter.
She babe him not trouble to find her,
as she would be all right, having money
with her.
Then, folding it up she addressed the
envelope to the Earl and placed it in a
conspicuous position, and set off, poor,
pretty little Lady Lettice, out on her trav-
els toward the great unknown world on
foot-the feet which were to be her for
tune!
But these same feet grew weary toward
night, long before their mistress had
reached what she considered the world,
although she tramped long and steadily,
her face set toward the metropolis.
Where she would eventually have found
herself as night came on it would be difficult
to say, had she not met some one by the
way, some one to whom her pretty earn
est face, with its shadow Of WEAKNESS and
resolve, instantly appealed.
'sYou are tired-have you much fur
, ther to go?''
In all her short life Lettice had had lie.
: tie experience of men, beyond her father,
, and what she had had of him was not
3 Eealculated to inspire confidence in the sex.
, She drew away little, although the face
, bending toward her own was kindly solic,
itous.
, "Ever so far she said, hopelessly
II want to get to London as soon as pos
Z sible."
The young man laughed.
"Walking?' heinquired. "YOu won
} get there tonight, unless you take train
from the junction. What's your name,
and what do your people mean by letting
p-a little girl - he corrected himself
> hastily as he found her large hazel eyes
, fixed inquiringly on him ''walk these
roads by herself at this hour?'
+ In a flash Lettice decided that her name
| had better not be mentioned. She dimly
remembered her mothers, and her OWL
, second name.
hillary Fortescue, she announced,
: with quivering lips. ''I We run away from
, home to make my fortune-and | think
can dance if they will take me on in
7 London
? "Whose advice are you acting upon ?
! the young man asked, quietly. He though
of his own well guarded sisters, and then
t looked at-Hilary. She was perfect lady
, and we'll born, he could see, even in the
fading light. A runaway?
Suddenly, and without any warning,
Lettice dissolved into tears, and sobbed ou
her story to her sympathetic companion,
only emitting names. Geoffrey Anstruthel
l started. Could any father be so utterly
callous and cruel?
"Come home with me tonight" he
said when she had finished. My mother
and sisters will be only too glad to have
you, and have no father who will turn
| you out neck and crop-he died years ago
, Yes, you must come, Miss Fortescue, as
Lettice drew back nervously; ''you can
be out in the country lanes all night
"An inn,' she ventured timidly.
"Impossible p returned her self con-
stituted guardian, decisively.
"Make no more fuss about it, but just
come along with me, and tomorrow if you
are still of the same opinion perhaps we
shall be able to help you p
And Lettice, after what she had gone
through was racked with headache the
next day, and good Mrs. Anstruther would
not hear of her leaving them.
At the end of week My Lady Lettice
was quite one of the family. 1t was move
experience for her to be made much of by
girls her own age, and mothered by the
kind lady, who though perfect stranger
to her, spared no trouble with the young
guest so queerly thrust upon her.
But Lettice remembered that size had
her own living to earn, and begged Mrs
Anstrather to help her. That good lady,
however, came upon photograph In the
, London papers, photograph Of a young
girl who was missing, which strongly re-
sembled Lettice, and she guessed that the
visitor she had harbored in so strange a
manner was none other than the Earl OF
Cranston's only child.
Geofrey, who had been daily growing
more and more attached to the young girl
he had protected, and whom fate had so
strangely thrown across his path, grew
white to the lips when his mother silently
handed him the paper.
"Then she is My Lady Lettice, he
said, ''and not Miss Hilary Fortescue r
"Geoff p his mother looked up lovingly.
81 have seen-you love her; but you have
not spoken-Y'
The young fellow turned toward the
window. II have not spoken, of course, y
he said slowly, "and | never shall now
hnt love her All how T love her.