Awed, silent, and dazzled by the sudden gas-light, she clung to his hand, but evidently distinguished no one else; and he placed her close to the magistrate saying, “This is Mr. Grey, Rose, tell him your name.”

And Mr. Grey taking her hand and repeating the question, the clear little silvery voice answered,

“I am Rose Ermine Williams.”

“And how old are you, my dear?”

“I was eight on the last of June.”

“She knows the nature of an oath?” asked Mr. Grey of the Colonel.

“Certainly, you can soon satisfy yourself of that.”

“My dear,” then said Mr. Grey, taking her by the hand again, and looking into the brown intelligent eyes, “I am sure you have been well taught.  Can you tell me what is meant by taking an oath before a magistrate?”

“Yes,” said Rose, colour flushing into her face, “it is calling upon Almighty God to hear one speak the truth.”  She spoke so low that she could hardly be heard, and she looked full of startled fear and distress, turning her face up to Colonel Keith with a terrified exclamation,

“Oh please, why am I here, what am I to say?”

He was sorry for her; but her manifest want of preparation was all in favour of the cause, and he soothed her by saying, “Only answer just what you are asked as clearly as you can, and Mr. Grey will soon let you go.  He knows you would try any way to speak the truth, but as he is going to examine you as a magistrate, he must ask you to take the oath first.”

Rose repeated the oath in her innocent tones, and perhaps their solemnity or the fatherly gentleness of Mr. Grey reassured her, for her voice trembled much less when she answered his next inquiry, who her parents were.

“My mother is dead,” she said; “my father is Mr Williams, he is away at Ekaterinburg.”

“Do you remember any time before he was at Ekaterinburg?”

“Oh yes; when we lived at Kensington, and he had the patent glass works.”

“Now, turn round and say if there is any one here whom you know?”

Rose, who had hitherto stood facing Mr. Grey, with her back to the rest of the room, obeyed, and at once exclaimed, “Aunt Alison,” then suddenly recoiled, and grasped at the Colonel.

“What is it, my dear?”

“It is—­it is Mr. Maddox,” and with another gasp of fright, “and Maria!  Oh, let me go.”

But Mr. Grey put his arm round her, and assured her that no one could harm her, Colonel Keith let his fingers be very hard pinched, and her aunt came nearer, all telling her that she had only to make her answers distinctly; and though still shrinking, she could reply to Mr. Grey’s question whom she meant by Mr. Maddox.

“The agent for the glass—­my father’s agent.”

“And who is Maria?”

“She was my nurse.”

“When did you last see the person you call Mr. Maddox?”

“Last time, I was sure of it, was when I was walking on the esplanade at Avoncester with Colonel Keith,” said Rose, very anxious to turn aside and render her words inaudible.