last, for by a codicil to his will it was provided that at Miss Merivale's
death Woodcote was to pass to Lydia, or, in the event of her not surviving
her sister, to her daughter Rhoda.

But poor Lydia never knew that her father had forgiven her. She died three
days before him; and when her sister's letter reached Australia, James
Sampson had broken up his home in Melbourne and started with his little
daughter for a distant settlement. He never reached the settlement, and
all Miss Merivale's efforts to trace him proved fruitless. She at last
accepted the belief of the lawyers that he had lost his way, and, like so
many other hapless wanderers, had perished in the bush.

When Tom had become dear as a son to her, fears would sometimes rise that
his claim to Woodcote might one day be disputed; but as the quiet years
went on these fears ceased to present themselves, and when Pauline
mentioned Rhoda Sampson the name had gone through her like a knife. She
tried--she had been trying ever since--to tell herself that it was
impossible it could be James Sampson's child, but the terror had laid fast
hold of her, and she could not shake it off. It was as James Sampson's
child she had always thought of her niece. Her heart had refused to give
her the place Lydia's little girl had a right to claim. She could not
think of her as Lydia's.

Tom had not noticed his aunt's agitation at the mention of her sister's
name. He went on speaking of his visit to Broadhurst.

"They want you to spend a day or two there next week, Rosie. Mr. Powell
has asked Laura to sing at the concert, and she wants to practise with
you."