‘Just as we were so happy about the doll-house for her too,’ Mrs. Vane went on.

Rosalys gave a little sob.

‘I think perhaps she’s at Celestina’s,’ she said.  But in less time than could have been expected back dashed Rough.  No, Biddy was not, had not been at Pier Street, but Celestina and her mother were following him as fast as they could to the Rectory—­Celestina had an idea—­she would explain it all—­but she begged Mrs. Vane to send down to the shore; the sea was out, and it was still light enough to see any one there a good way off.

A party was at once despatched to the sands, in vain, as we know, for by this time Mr. Mildmay had landed from his boat and was hurrying along to calm Mrs. Vane’s anxiety.  He arrived there a quarter of an hour or so after Mrs. Fairchild and her daughter, so Celestina had had time to explain the idea which had struck her—­we know what it was, and that it was the true one—­and to relate to Mrs. Vane all her reasons for imagining it possible that self-willed, obstinate Biddy had set out on her own account to walk to the lighthouse.

So when Mr. Mildmay appeared and told his strange story, his hearers were able to explain what to him and Mr. Vane had seemed a complete mystery.

‘How could she be so naughty?’ Mrs. Vane exclaimed.  But Alie touched her gently.

‘Only, dear mamma,’ she whispered, ‘think; she might have been drowned.’

’And so might your father, and as it is, I tremble to think what the consequences may be for him.  I do feel as if I could not forgive Bridget,’ said Mrs. Vane excitedly.

Mrs. Fairchild was very, very sorry for her, but she was a brave woman.  She managed to draw Mrs. Vane aside.

‘Dear madam,’ she said, ’I do feel for you.  But we must be just.  Remember the child had no idea of what would be the result of her folly.  It was really but a piece of childish folly or naughtiness.  And it may be a lesson for all her life; it may be the turning-point for her—­if—­if only you would—­if you can meet her—­gently—­if nothing is said to harden her.’

‘I will try.  I promise you I will try,’ said Mrs. Vane very softly.  ’But oh, Mrs. Fairchild, if it has made my husband ill!’ and her voice broke.

‘We must hope not—­hope and pray,’ said Celestina’s mother in a low voice.

’And there was something so interesting I wanted to tell you; I had a letter to-day from Madame d’Ermont—­such a nice letter.  And now all this has spoilt everything,’ went on poor Mrs. Vane.

‘Never mind.  You will tell me about it another time,’ said Mrs. Fairchild soothingly.  ’Would it—­excuse my suggesting it—­would I be in the way if I stayed till they come?  I have some experience as to chills and accidents of all sorts—­and I would like to see how they are.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Mrs. Vane fervently.  ’I should be most grateful.  I have no one now with any head about me since my last maid left.’