Arthur Franklyn, totally unmindful of her sympathy, escaped to his bedroom soon after the clock struck ten. But there was no thought of Him on whom we are told to cast our burden. There arose in his heart no prayer for guidance in the right path. It might be said of him at this period of his life that "God was not in all his thoughts." To him in this hour of fierce temptation there was no solace but the fiery spirit, so valuable as a medicine, so dangerous as a stimulant. He took another supply before seeking his pillow, and sunk at once into an unhealthy sleep, from which he awoke in the morning unrefreshed and with a throbbing headache. During the next three days Arthur Franklyn, with a kind of unnatural energy, went through the tasks he had allotted to himself. From the lawyer to the banker's; from the West End to the City, in cabs and in omnibuses; to the shipping offices to secure a berth; to the railway station to send boxes to Kate Marston and his daughter, and to write letters in the evening--so passed the next three days. One discovery he made while at the lawyer's office. From a remark made by Mr. Norton, to whom Henry Halford had introduced him, he found that gentleman had made a mistake, and here he took the second step in the downward path. After expressing his regret and sympathy, Mr. Norton said-- "You are fortunate in one thing, Mr. Franklyn; I hear that Mrs. Franklyn signed her name to the document on the morning before she died at her own lawyer's, so the two thousand pounds are yours to all intents and purposes." "It may be so," replied Arthur, languidly; "but I have been so upset and so full of business I have not had time to examine it." "Well, do so, my dear sir, when you get home; no doubt you will find it all right." This mistake of Mr. Norton's, which will be hereafter explained, sent Arthur from the lawyer's office in a tremble of excitement. He had nothing to fear now; all would end well, and he should overcome every difficulty. The fact that he had spoken falsely to Mr. Norton, and helped to mislead that gentleman, he entirely overlooked. And so the time passed on, and the morning of the Friday on which he was to sail for Melbourne rose in its summer brightness. But the excitement, the at times clamorous voice of conscience, and the unusual amount of stimulant he took, were together combining to produce fever of the blood and irritation of the brain in Arthur Franklyn. When he started in a cab from his lodgings his landlady remarked, "Well, if this rushing about every day don't soon kill that poor gentleman, he must be made of iron."