"She had some on her mother's side. I never heard their names. But her
father seemed certain that they would be unkind to the child, and he was
thankful when we promised to keep her. He was a queer, silent sort of man.
We never knew much about him, except that he had lived in Adelaide. But he
was mother and father both to Rhoda. He was just wrapped up in her. It was
a pretty sight to see them together."

There were many questions Miss Merivale would have liked to ask, but she
had not the courage to. She was afraid of betraying herself. She no longer
felt any doubt about Rhoda's parentage. James Sampson had not perished in
the bush, but had hidden himself in that lonely spot up among the hills,
where either no news of the will had reached him, or he had deliberately
refrained from communicating with England. Perhaps he thought that his
girl would be happier with the kind M'Alisters than with her rich English
relatives.

But the most probable supposition was that he had never heard of the will.
Mrs. M'Alister had said that they were living fifty miles from a town. How
easily it might have happened that the advertisements they put in the
Melbourne papers had never been seen by him.

As soon as she could she got away, after arranging that Rhoda should bring
the programmes to Woodcote one day in the following week, so that she
might talk over with her the details of some other work she wanted done.
Miss Merivale marvelled at herself for the calmness with which she settled
all this.

But when once she was in the cab her strength left her. After telling the
man to drive her to Victoria, she sank back faint and trembling. The
alternatives that lay before her seemed equally impossible. If Rhoda was