"Yes, miss. Beg pardon, miss," added the man, who had himself been formerly in Kate's service, and by whom, as by all of his fraternity, she was adored,--"beg pardon, miss; but nothing wrong, is there? You're looking uncommon ill, miss." "No," said Kate, with a ghastly smile. "I'm all right, thank you, William. Good-day: ride on!" and William, touching his hat, clapped spurs to his horse, and rode off. That night the mail-cart was waiting outside the little village post-office and the old woman was just huddling the letters into the bag, when a groom came up at a hand-gallop, and dismounting, gave in a letter, saying, "Just in time, Mrs. Mallins, I think!" The old woman peered at him over her spectacles. "Oh, it's you, Thomas, is it? Well, I'll take a letter from your mistress, though I'm not bound to do it by the reg'lations. You're after time, Thomas." "I know, Mrs. Mallins; but Miss Kate said 'twere most particular. And I were to tell you so, and--" "Air you comin' with that bag?" growled the mail-cart driver, putting his head into the shop. "All right, my man! all right!" said the old lady, handing him the bag. "There it is. Thomas, you can tell your lady she was in time." Half an hour afterwards Kate Mellon's servant looked into the dining-room. There was no light, and she was about to withdraw, when she heard her mistress's voice say, "What is it?" "Oh, nothing, ma'am; only Thomas says the letter was in time." "Very well," said Kate. Then, when the door was shut again, she muttered between her clenched teeth: "It's done now, and can't be undone! Now, Master Charley, look out for yourself!" CHAPTER XXX. AFTER THE STORM.