Winner Stories

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in a state of dreamy peace, watching the gaslighted streets, the
hurrying passengers, with a comfortable sense of security and rest.
But when she was set down near Guilford Square, her courage, which
in real danger had never failed her, suddenly ebbed away, and left
her merely a young girl, with aching back and weary limbs, with a
shrinking dislike of walking alone so late in the evening. Worse
of all, her old childish panic had taken hold of her once more; her
knees trembled beneath her, as she remembered that she must pass
the spy, who would assuredly still be keeping watch in Guilford
Terrace. The dread of being secretly watched had always been a
torment to her. Spies, sometimes real, sometimes imaginary, had
been the terror of her childhood had taken the place of the ghost
and bogy panics which assail children brought up in other creeds.
The fact was, she had been living at very high pressure, and she
was too much exhausted to conquer her unreasonable fright, which
increased every moment, until she was on the point of going to the
Osmonds, willing to frame any excuse for so late a visit if only
she could get one of them to walk home with her. Honesty and shame
hindered her, however, With a great effort of will she forced
herself to pass the door, horrified to find how nearly selfish
cowardice had induced her to draw her friends into suspicion.
Echoes of the hymns sung at her baptism, and at the subsequent
confirmation rang in her ears. She walked on more bravely.
By the time she reached Guilford Terrace, she had herself quite in
hand. And it was well; for, as she walked down the dreary little
alley, a dark form emerged from the shadow, and suddenly confronted
her.
Any one might reasonably be a little startled by having a sudden
pause made before them by an unknown person on a dark night. Erica
thought she could exactly sympathize with a shying horse; she felt
very much inclined to swerve aside. Fortunately she betrayed no
fear, only a little surprise, as she lifted her head and looked the
man full in the face, then moved on with quiet dignity. She felt
him follow her to the very door, and purposely she took out her
latch key with great deliberation, and allowed him, if he pleased,
to take a quiet survey of the passage while she rubbed her boots on
the mat; then, with a delicious sense of safety, she closed the
door on the unfriendly gaze..
In the meantime, Raeburn had spent a miserably anxious evening,
regretting his rash permission for Erica to go, regretting his own
enforced inaction, regretting his wellknown and undisguisable face
and form, almost regretting that his friend had visited him. Like

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