allowed a suspicion to invade her mind, that he had been accessory to the death of Sir Stratford Manvers? But no!--he would pursue the dreadful thought no further. Sufficient that, after many efforts, he had regained a clue to the discovery of the tall man he had seen escape into the thicket. He had tracked him unweariedly from place to place--had nearly overtaken him in the cave of Nottingham Hill--caught glimpses of him in the gipsy camp at Hatton Grange--and now felt assured he was close upon his track in the savage ranges of Barnley Wold. Barnley Wold was a wild, uncultivated district, interspersed at irregular intervals with the remains of an ancient forest, and famous, at the period of our narrative, as the resort of many lawless and dangerous characters. Emerging from one of the patches of wood, which, we have said, studded the immense expanse of the wold, Lawleigh was rejoiced to perceive a faint brightening of the sky, which foretold the near approach of the morning. He looked all around, and, in the slowly increasing light, he thought he perceived, at the top of a rising ground at some distance, a shepherd's hut, or one of the rough sheds put up for the accommodation of the woodmen. He strove to hurry towards it, but his gigantic strength failed at length; and, on reaching the humble cottage, he sank exhausted at the door. When he recovered consciousness, he perceived he was laid on a rough bed, in a very small chamber, illuminated feebly by the still slanting beams of the eastern sun. He slowly regained his full recollection; but, on hearing voices in the room, he shut his eyes again, and affected the same insensibility as before. "What could I do?" said a voice, in a deprecating tone. "Leave him to die, to be sure," was the rough-toned answer. "I thought thee had had enough of gentlefolks, without bringing another fair-feathered bird to the nest." There was something in the expression with which this was said, that seemed to have a powerful effect on the first speaker. "After the years of grief I've suffered, you might have spared your taunt, George. The gentleman lay almost dead at the door, and you yourself helped me to bring him in." "'Twould have been better, perhaps, for him if we had led him somewhere else; for your father seems bitter now against all the fine folks together." "Because he fancies he has cause of hatred to me--but he never had," answered the girl. "And the gentleman had pistols, too," said the man. "You had better hide them, or your father will maybe use them against the owner." "I did not move them from the gentleman's breast. We must wake him, and hurry him off before my father's return--but, hark! I hear his whistle. Oh, George, what shall we do?"