QUITE ALONE.

BOOK THE FIRST: CHILDHOOD.
CHAPTER XXII. LILY IS FITTED OUT BY CUTWIG
AND CO.

GREENWICH PARK, was kept open later, long
ago, than it is at present. It was getting dark
when the lady and the child entered by the
western gate. The countess seemed to know
her way perfectly well, and they pursued the
path towards the Observatory. The moon was
up, and Lily looked about her in wonderment.
The tall trees and the brown bars of shadow
they cast upon the moonlit grass, which looked
almost frosty in its brightness; the deer—more
numerous then than now—that peeped furtively,
showing their gleaming heads from the thickets,
like fairies playing at hide-and-seek; the birds,
disturbed in their dreams (by imaginary cats,
perchance), that came fluttering off the boughs,
and then, reassured, went fluttering back again;
at all these sights the child looked, and
marvelled, and forgot her sleepiness.

When they had skirted One-tree Hill, and
gained the earthwork rampart that runs round
the picturesque old edifice where Halley dwelt,
they found it almost deserted. A soldier in a
bearskin cap much too big for him, was
whistling for want of thought, and flicking his
penny cane against the brick wall. He was a
temperate Grenadier, or else fortune had been
unkind to him, and he had not got as much
beer as he wanted. At all events, he was
melancholy. A sweethearting couple were
wrangling in a subdued tone on one of the
benches. A long day spent in the society of
the adored one of our hearts not unfrequently
ends in mutual distaste.

The Grenadier had disappeared, whistling, and
they were left alone. It was very calm and
still. The stars seemed to smile on Lily. She
looked up at the moon, and tried to shape its
tranquil face into the pale handsome countenance
of the tall gentleman who had been so
kind to her. She still kept the something hard
and smooth he had given her, slightly clasped
in her hand. She did not dare to look at it,
but by a quick furtive movement, slipped it into
the bosom of her frock. Was Lily naughty,
to practise concealment so early?

It was a time for good and tranquil thoughts;
a time to be at peace and good will with mankind;
a time for studious men, of pure and blameless lives,
to ascend their watch-towers, and read the starry
heavens through their long glasses. Lily gazed
wistfully upon the shadowy prospect, the great
panorama of verdure now bathed in soft haze,
upon the distant river, the hospital domes looming
large, the lights twinkling from the ports of the great
hospital ship. The child, though no longer drowsy,
felt as though this was her bedtime out of doors,
and longed to say her prayers, and lie down under
one of the tall trees, with the deer to keep watch
over her.

The lady, seemingly, was in no such tranquil
mood. She had been muttering to herself all
the way, and Lily had been far too nervous to
speak to her.

"Yes; they will have a wild night," she said,
between her teeth;  " an orgie! And my life!
Is it anything better—orgie upon orgie, feast
upon feast, boiling oil upon red-hot coals. Look
here, you young cat," she pursued, turning upon
Lily, " attend to me. Do you know who I am?"

The child, trembling in every limb, stammered
a negative.

"I am your mother."

"I thought my mamma was in heaven,
ma'am," Lily answered, in a very low voice;
"Miss Babby always told me so."

And, indeed, when the child, perplexed by the
frequent questions and occasional jeerings of the
girls who had mammas, had interrogated Miss
Barbara Bunnycastle on the subject, the governess
had returned her the answer quoted above,
not knowing what else to tell her. Had not
M. J. B. Constant said that Miss Floris's
mamma was dead?

"You are not likely to meet either of your
parents there," pursued the lady, in a scornful
voice. " Va chercher ailleurs, mon enfant, c'est
là-bas que tu les trouveras. You will never
have any other mother than me. Do you love
me?"

The child was silent.

"That's right. Don't tell me a lie. If you
had, I would have beaten you. Ah, my pullet,
you don't know what blows are. Your little
entertainment is all to come. Listen to me;
you are going to school, a long way off. You
are no longer to be made a pet and a darling of.
Nobody ever petted me. You shall live hard;
you shall work. Sacrebleu! you shall work,
you cub!"