"Chance--yes; but I am not going to leave it to chance, and die with this too on my conscience. I have been a bad mother from the first, I forsook the child at my breast for the hire of a stranger, and cast her on the world to shift for herself in toil and trouble; and last of all, by my stolen charity have brought this curse upon her. Yes, Eugene Trevor," she added, emphatically, "I stole those notes from your father's chest, and gave them to the girl--but who _forged_ them?" Eugene Trevor started as if an adder had stung him; and turning ashy pale, sunk down upon a chair that stood near. "What--what in the name of Heaven do you mean, Marryott?" he stammered forth. "Eugene Trevor, do not try to deceive a dying woman. I have confessed my part of the business, do not deny yours. There was not much which passed between you and your father that night ten years ago, that I did not overhear, and which now put together, would be enough to commit _you_--but do not fear, I am not going to betray you, only do my bidding; go to ---- and get that girl free--it matters little to me, who shall be dead perhaps, before the morning, what I'm thought of; go and tell them that _I_ gave the notes, and that _she_ was ignorant of this falsity--go, get her off, and come back and tell me she is free, and I die silent; if not, as sure as I lie here a dying woman, I send for a magistrate and tell him all." Eugene Trevor's discomfiture and perturbation at this disclosure may be imagined. He had been surprised at the time of her apprehension, to see the account of Jane Marryott's examination in the papers, but Mabel had professed such perfect ignorance on the subject--such careless indifference concerning the trouble of her daughter, that though the coincidence of the notes might strike him as singular, it scarcely occurred to him as possible that those half-forgotten instruments of his youthful crime, which he had not for a moment doubted his father immediately destroyed, could possibly have fallen into the prisoner's hands. There was nothing to be done but to obey his accuser's wishes, knowing well the determined spirit of that fearful woman, so that there would be no other way of preventing her, even with her dying lips, declaring the part he had in the dark transaction in question. He therefore took all necessary precautions and started on his critical commission with as little delay as possible, receiving before his departure, the formal summons from Arthur Seaham to attend as witness on the trial. CHAPTER X. Ah, Zelica! there was a time, when bliss Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; When but to see him, hear him breathe the air In which he dwelt was thy soul's fondest prayer; When round him hung such a perpetual spell, Whate'er he did, none ever did so well. Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour. LALLA ROOKH.