Could not some of the myriads of fancies floating in her mind thus be made available?
She would compose, publish, earn money--some day call papa, show him her hoard, beg him to take it, and, never owning whence it came, raise the building.

Spire and chancel, pinnacle and buttress, rose before her eyes, and she and Norman were standing in the porch with an orderly, religious population, blessing the unknown benefactor, who had caused the news of salvation to be heard among them.
They were almost at home, when the sight of a crowd in the main street checked them.

Norman and Mr.Ernescliffe went forward to discover the cause, and spoke to some one on the outskirts--then Mr.Ernescliffe hurried back to the ladies.
"There's been an accident," he said hastily--"you had better go down the lane and in by the garden." He was gone in an instant, and they obeyed in silence.

Whence came Ethel's certainty that the accident concerned themselves?
In an agony of apprehension, though without one outward sign of it, she walked home.
They were in the garden--all was apparently as usual, but no one was in sight.

Ethel had been first, but she held back, and let Miss Winter go forward into the house.