The rushing air played about Phoebe's face and revived her. The horse, urged by Tom Barley, was racing like the wind. Tom, glancing down, saw his beloved mistress's eyes languidly open. "Don't be frightened," he whispered. "I am with you--Tom Barley! We are riding to London. I am taking you to your aunt's house in Camden Town." "Oh, Tom!" she murmured; and clasped her trembling arms about his neck, and laid her face close to his. If ever a man tasted heaven on earth, Tom Barley tasted it then. And Phoebe? O dolorous night, charged with woe and pain! O happy night, charged with visions of hope and glory! O blessed winds that kissed her hot and feverish face and neck! Loving hearts still beat for her; loving arms were waiting to welcome her. The sweetness overcame her; her eyes were filled with happy tears. "Miss Phoebe," said Tom. "Yes, Tom?" "You must try and help yourself a bit." "I will, Tom. Tell me what to do." "In half an hour we shall be in London streets. Then I must take you off the horse. We can't ride on it to your aunt's door. There are reasons." "Very well, Tom." "Do you think you will be able to walk a bit?" "I will try, Tom--and you will help me?" "That I will. I could carry you, but it would draw attention upon us. Perhaps we may get a cab. Then there will be no difficulty." "Tom, I will do everything you tell me." "Thank you, Miss Phoebe." They had taken the Croydon road to London Bridge, and in half an hour, when they reached a quiet street, in which no soul but themselves was to be seen, Tom lifted Phoebe from the horse. "Hold on to me, Miss Phoebe, and turn your face a bit." She did so. With a branch which he had plucked from the hedge and had used as a whip Tom struck the horse a smart blow. Away it galloped with an empty saddle on its back, and in three moments was lost to his sight. "Now, Miss Phoebe, if we can only find a cab!" Angel Fortune was on their side. They had taken scarcely a dozen steps when a four-wheeler turned the corner of the street. The bargain was soon made, and Phoebe and Tom, safely ensconced in the cab, were on their way to Camden Town. "My dear," said Aunt Leth, shaking her husband, "the street-door bell has rung; and, hark! do you hear the loud knocking? What can have happened?" He was out of bed in a moment and gliding down the stairs, and Aunt Leth quickly drew on a dressing-gown, and hastened after him. "Open the door," cried Tom Barley, outside. "It's all right! There's nothing to be frightened at." Uncle Leth threw open the door. "Aunt Leth! oh, dear Aunt Leth!" murmured Phoebe, and fell sobbing into the good woman's arms. "Phoebe! my poor dear Phoebe! Oh! look here! look here! There is blood upon her!" "I am well and happy now!" sobbed Phoebe. "Oh! so happy! so happy! Dear aunt, dear uncle, don't let them take me from you again!" "They never shall! they never shall! Oh, my poor dear! oh, my poor dear!"