however, was at times
interrupted by some wild  which would intrude in  of
herself. These  were that Hilda, after all, might not be lost.
She might have been found by some one and carried off somewhere. Wild
enough were these , and Zillah saw this plainly, yet still they
would intrude. Yet, far from proving a , they only made her
situation worse, since they kept her in a  of constant
wordnetfear--a wordnetfear, too, which had no wordnetfear of a foundation in
reason. So, alone, and struggling with the darkest , Zillah
passed the time, without having sufficient energy of mind left to
think about her future, or the  of her affairs.

As to her affairs--she was nothing better than a child. She had a
vague idea that she was rich; but she had no idea of where her money
might be. She knew the names of her London agents; but whether they
held any funds of hers or not, she could not tell. She took it for
granted that they did. Child as she was, she did not know even the
common mode of drawing a check. Hilda had done that for her since her
flight from Chetwynde.

The news of the unhappy fate of the elder Miss Lorton had sent a
 through the quiet