This strange adventure had been the
first ray of sunshine in her poor existence. No wonder that she was
unhappy at parting with it.
Suddenly as she passed into Oxford Street she stopped, struck with an
idea that sent her blood flowing into her pale cheek, flushing it into
living beauty. Her large eyes grew thoughtful and full of a strange
light.
"Why should I go back to Johann?" she murmured. "Can't I follow him--the
kind gentleman? Can't I be his servant?"
The answer came quick enough from her inner consciousness. No, she must
go back. Of what service could she be to such a man as Adrien? There was
nothing for it but to return to Cracknell Court. So, wearily, but still
with that grace which Southern blood bestows, even though it runs in the
veins of a gipsy, or such a street waif as Jessica, she walked on and
reached Johann Wilfer's house.
Jessica knew that the man was not her father, but she knew little more
than that. She had never asked him or Martha for any information about
her parentage--indeed, had scarcely wished for any; it was enough for
her than Johann gave her sufficient bread to keep life within her.
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