"Oh, James, James!" cried Mrs Wilton, wildly, "I knew it, I knew it. I dreamed about the black cow all last night, and there's something wrong." "Stop a minute: I'll come," said Wilton, quickly, and a startled look came into his face. "Take me--take me, too," sobbed his wife. "Oh, my poor boy! If anything has happened to him in the night. I shall never forgive myself. Samuel--Samuel!" "Yes, ma'am." "Run round to the stables and send one of the men over for Doctor Leigh at once." Wilton felt too much startled to counter-order this, but before the man had gone a dozen steps he shouted to him. "Tell the gardener to bring a mallet and cold chisel from the tool shed." "Yes, sir," and full of excitement the man ran off, while his master and mistress hurried upstairs to their son's door. But before they reached it Wilton had recovered his calmness. "What nonsense," he muttered. Then softly: "Here, you speak to him. Gently. Only overslept himself." He tapped, and signed to his wife. But her voice sounded full of agitation, as she said: "Claud, dear; it's getting very late." Then louder: "Claud! Claud, my dear, are you unwell?" Then with aery of agony, "Claud! Claud, my darling! Oh, pray, pray speak to me, or you'll break my poor heart!" "Here, stand aside," cried Wilton, who was thoroughly startled now. He seized the handle of the door, turned it, and tried to force it open, but in vain. The next moment he was about to lay his shoulder close down to the keyhole, when Kate's maid came running up to them. "Mrs Wilton! Mrs Wilton!" she cried; "pray, pray come! My dear young lady! Oh, help, help! I ought to have spoken sooner. What shall I do?" CHAPTER THIRTEEN. Wilton pere and mere had not been gone five minutes when there was a gentle tap at Kate's door, and she started and turned her fearful face in that direction, but made no reply. The tap was repeated, "Miss Kate," came in a sharp whisper; "it is only me, my dear." "Ah," sighed the girl, as if in relief; and she nearly ran to the door, turned the key, and admitted the old servant, locked the door again, and flung her arms about the woman's neck, to bury her face in her breast, and sob as if her heart would break. "There, there, there," cooed the woman, as if to the little child she had nursed long years before; and she led her gently to a couch, and drew the weeping girt down half reclining upon her breast. "Cry then, my precious; it will do you good; and then you must tell Liza all about it--what has been the matter, dear?" "Matter!" cried Kate, starting up, and gazing angrily in the woman's face. "Liza, it's horrible. Why did I ever come to this dreadful house?" "Hush, hush, my own; you will make yourself had again. We must not have you ill." "Bad--ill?" cried Kate. "Better dead and at rest. Oh, I hate him! I hate him! How dare he touch me like that! It was horrible--an outrage!"