"Lucille!" gasped Onslow, as a great dread of some fresh complication assailed him.
She started, drew herself up erect, and then, with a look of wonder in her eyes which gave place to a look of delight:
"Ah! mon chéri, she cried. "Then you have followed me?" Then to the wondering child, "Go back to the cottage, petite, I do not want you yet. I will fetch you soon. The little one of an old friend, Frank," she continued.
The handsome, smiling face suddenly turned livid, the jaw dropped, and with her eyes dilated, Lucille de Vigny stood gazing past Onslow as if at some spectral object at his back. Then, clutching the bag to her breast as if to protect herself, she uttered a wild, animal-like cry of dread, turned and dashed down among the rocks where a precipitous track led to the sea.
Almost at the same moment a hoarse voice cried to Onslow in French:
"Take care! The poor child! Do not let her see!"
But as the man literally plunged down the track, the child uttered a piercing shriek, covered her little face with her hands, and dropped down upon her knees.
Onslow was paralyzed for the moment, and then, as he heard another cry from below, he forgot his weakness, a thrill of vigor ran through him, and he staggered to the commencement of
