“I will walk with you.  I have been telegraphing to your brother that I have found you.”

“Oh, he was so good to me!  And Mr. Flight, I was so grieved to fail him.  They made me get up and dress in the night, and before I knew what I was about I was on the quay—-carried out to the ship.  I had no paper-—no means of writing; I was watched.  And now it is too dreadful!  Oh, Miss Dolores! if Mrs. Henderson could see the cruel positions they try to force on me, the ways they handle me-—they hurt so; and what is worse, no modest girl could bear the way they go on, and want me to do the same.  I could when I was little, but I am stiffer now, and oh! ashamed.  If I can’t—-they starve me—-yes, and beat me, and hurt me with their things.  It is bondage like the Israelites, and I don’t want to get to like it, as they say I shall, for then-—then there are those terrible songs to be sung, and that shocking dress to be shown off in.  My mother will not help.  She says it is what she went through, and all have to do, and that I shall soon leave off minding; but oh, I often think I had rather die than grow like-—like Miss Bellamour.  I hope I shall (they often frighten me with that horse), only somehow I can’t wish to be killed at the moment, and try to save myself.  And once I thought I would let myself fall, rather than go on with it, but I thought it would be wicked, and I couldn’t.  But I have prayed to God to help me and spare me; and now He has heard.  And will my brother be able—-or will he choose to help me?”

“I am sure of it, my poor dear girl.  He wishes nothing more.”

“Please turn this way.  They must not see me speak to any one.”

“One word more.  How long is the circus to be here?”

“We never know; it depends on the receipts—-may go to-morrow.  Oh, there-—”

She hurried on without another word, and Dolores slowly returned to Miss Vincent’s lodgings.  Her lecture was to be given at three o’clock, but she knew that she should have to be shown the school and class-rooms in the forenoon.  Gerald, as she calculated the trains, might arrive either by half-past twelve or a quarter past four.

Nervously she endured her survey of the school, replying to the comments as if in a dream, and hurrying it over, so as must have vexed those who expected her to be interested.  She dashed off to the station, and reached it just in time to see the train come in.  Was it—-yes, it was Gerald who sprang out and came towards her.

“Dolores!  My gallant Dolores!  You have found her!”

“Yes, but in cruel slavery-—apprenticed.”

“That can be upset.  Her mother-—is she here?”

“Yes, and O’Leary.  They sold her, apprenticed her, and these people use her brutally.  She told me this morning.  No, I don’t think you can get at her now.”

“I will see her mother at any rate.  I may be able to buy her off.  Where shall I find you?”