“’Twas in the blue chamber,” continued the dame, in a less distinct and more tremulous voice; “and as he raised it to the lamp, the man Zedekiah, on some errand, called him to the door. The Lord put it into his heart to lay the folded paper on the table; and while he conferred with Zedekiah at the door, I caught it up, and placed in its stead one of no import. The change passed, and he burned the false paper.” Bernard breathed more freely. “The Lord reward thee!” he said. The dame, breathless and exhausted, paused a space, when, with a convulsive effort, but in a very low and agitated tone, she resumed. “I hold the right one still,” she said. And, as she spoke, she raised her hand, and pointed tremulously over her shoulder. With this last effort, all her strength, if such it might be called, was exhausted, and she fell gasping to her pillow. Bernard, who had been watching her intently, and was now greatly alarmed, sprang forward a pace, and sought to raise her head in his arms. But before he could accomplish his purpose, the chamber-door, which was right opposite to where he stood, was suddenly thrown open, and Abigail rushed in. “The master’s coming!” she said to Bernard. “He comes at an ill time,” answered Bernard. “I fear me, the mistress hath swooned.” “An’ he see thee, he will kill her,” cried Abigail, hastily stepping up to him. Thus speaking, she glanced anxiously round the room; and her eye, after running over several objects, rested on the door of a closet, or wardrobe, behind the bed-head. Her sulky and ill-natured-looking features, which had just before appeared so anxious, contracted a broad grin as she discerned this covert; and she pointed it out to Bernard. “Get thee in there,” she said. “I will look to her.” Albeit, as the approaching step of Shedlock was now audible, there was no time to be lost, Bernard still paused to glance anxiously at the face of Dame Shedlock; and it was not till Abigail again warned him of his peril, and the greater peril in which he involved the dame, that he turned to his retreat. Scarcely had he entered the wardrobe, and closed the door in his front, when Shedlock made his appearance. Abigail, no longer apprehensive of a surprise, had just placed one of her arms under the dame’s neck, and was gently raising her head, when Shedlock entered. The dame, it now appeared, was not in a swoon, and, as Abigail raised her head, and thus facilitated her respiration, she looked up. There was, however, no sense in her gaze, or thought in her aspect. “Art better?” asked Abigail. “I have it safe!” cried the dame, hysterically. “I have it safe! He burned it not!” Shedlock, who had paused at the chamber-door, here sprang forward, and rushed to the side of the bed. “What says she?” he demanded. “Verily, her name is Legion, and she hath a devil.” He sought to push Abigail aside as he spoke, but that individual, to his great surprise, turned round on him, and maintained her position unmoved.