Without saying a word to the aunts—­for she would not have accused any body, a child, or even a servant, upon anything short of absolute proof—­Christian went up to her from the window of which she could see into Walnut-tree Court.  There, walking round and round, in the solitude which at this hour was customary in most colleges, she distinguished, dim as the light was, three figures—­a man, a woman, and a child; in all probability.  Miss Bennett, her lover, and Titia, whom, with a mixture of cunning and shortsightedness, she had induced to play propriety, in case any discovery should be made.

Still, the light was too faint to make their identity sure; and to send a servant after them on mere suspicion would only bring trouble upon poor little Titia, besides disgracing, in the last manner in which any generous woman would wish to disgrace another woman, the poor friendless governess, who, after all, might only be taking an honest evening walk with her own honest lover, as every young woman has a perfect right to do.

“And love is so sweet, and life so bitter!  I’ll not be hard upon her, poor girl!” thought Christian, with a faint sigh.  “Whatever is done I will do myself and then it can injure nobody.”

So she put on shawl and bonnet, and was just slipping out at the hall door, rather thankful that Barker was absent from his post, when she met Titia creeping stealthily in, not at the front door, but at the glass door, which led to the garden behind; to which garden there was only one other entrance, a little door leading into Walnut-tree Court, and of this door Barker usually kept the key.  Now, however, it hung from the little girl’s hand, the poor frightened creature, who, the minute she saw her step-mother, tried to run away up stairs.

“Titia, come back!  Tell me where you have been, without Phillis or any body, and when I desired you not to go out again.”

“It was only to—­to fetch a crocus for Atty.”

“Where is the crocus?”

“I—­dropped it.”

“And this key.  What did you want with the key?”

“I—­I don’t know.”

The lie failed, if they were lies; but perhaps they might have been partly true; the child hung her head and began to whimper.  She was not quite hardened, then.

“Come here to me,” said Christian, sadly and gravely, leading her to the glass door, so that what light there was could shine upon her face; “let me look if you have been telling me the truth.  Don’t be afraid; if you have I will not punish you.  I will not be hard upon you in any case, if you will only speak the truth.  Titia, a little girl like you has no business to be creeping in and out of her papa’s house like a thief.  Tell at once where have you been, and who was with you?”

The child burst out crying.  “I daren’t tell, or Phillis will beat me.  She said she would if I stirred an inch from the nursery, while she went down to have tea with cook and Barker.  And I thought I might just run for ten minutes to see Miss Bennett, who wanted me so.”