But Meta waited to hear no more; fear seemed to lend her wings, and she flew from the room in a panic of terror.

“Ah ha! ah ha! um h’m! ah ha! you were at some mischief, no doubt, my lassie.  ‘The wicked flee when no man pursueth,’ the good Book tells us,” said the occupant of the room, stepping out from the shadow of the window-curtain.

He had laid down his book almost immediately, remembering that he had some letters to write, and had come up to his apartments in search of one he wished to answer.

It was already dark, except for the light of a young moon, but by some oversight of the servants the lamps had not yet been lighted here.

He was feeling about for matches, when hearing approaching footsteps he stepped behind the curtain and waited to see who the intruder was.

He recognized Meta’s form and movements, and sure that no legitimate errand had brought her there at that time, resolved to give her a fright.

Tearing down the hall, Meta suddenly encountered her mother, who, coming up to her own apartments, had reached the head of the stairs just in time to witness Meta’s exit from those of Mr. Lilburn.

“Oh I’m so frightened! so frightened, mamma!” cried the child, throwing herself into her mother’s arms.

“As you richly deserve to be,” said Mrs. Carrington, taking her by the hand and leading her into her dressing-room.  “What were you doing in Mr. Lilburn’s apartments?”

Meta hung her head in silence.

“Speak, Meta; I will have an answer,” her mother said, with determination.

“I wasn’t doing any harm; only putting away something that belonged there.”

“What was it?”

“A key.”

“Meddling again! prying even into the affairs of a strange gentleman!” groaned her mother.  “Meta, what am I to do with you? this dreadful fault of yours mortifies me beyond everything.  I feel like taking you back to Ashlands at once, and never allowing you to go from home at all; lest you should bring a life-long disgrace upon yourself and me.”

“Mother, I wasn’t prying or meddling with Mr. Lilburn’s affairs,” said Meta, bursting into sobs and tears.

“What were you doing there? tell me all about it without any more ado.”

Knowing that her mother was a determined woman, and seeing that there was now no escape from a full confession, Meta made it.

Mrs. Carrington was much distressed.

“Meta, you have robbed your Aunt Elsie, your Aunt Elsie who has always been so good, so kind to me and to you:  and I can never make good her loss; never replace that plate.”

“Just that one tiny plate couldn’t be worth so very much,” muttered the offender.

“Its intrinsic value was perhaps not very great,” replied Mrs. Carrington, “but to my dear friend it was worth much as a memento of her dead mother.  Meta, you shall not go with us to-morrow, but shall spend the day locked up in your own room at home.”