“When I tell her that although I thought she was dead I followed Ferris like a bloodhound to obtain proof of his guilt in order to clear her memory from all stain, when I tell her that I have traveled night and day to bring her the news of her release, when I tell her, above all, that I love her with such a love as until now I never knew, perhaps she will find it in her tender heart to forgive my madness and to be friends with me again, and--who knows?--in time, perhaps,--even if it were years I would be patient--I may teach her to give me back the love I slighted and scorned in the days when the poison of a false woman’s love worked in my veins,” he thought. But though he tried to teach himself to be hopeful, there was a brooding fear in his heart. What if Nina were wounded beyond all reparation? What if she refused her forgiveness to him, and withdrew herself from him forever? He could not contemplate the thought with any equanimity. It sent cold thrills of anguish running over his frame. “For years a measureless ill, For years, forever, to part.” “I could not bear it, and she will not be so cruel, surely, my little, tender-hearted Nina,” he said over and over to himself, and Harvey Wilson found him but a dull companion, for he moved and spoke like one in a dream, and he had but one thought, and that was to hasten all the time. He barely gave himself time to eat, and sleep was a luxury that he seldom knew. “Tired nature’s sweet restorer--balmy sleep, He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes And lights in lids unsullied with a tear.” Fortunately they had no delays in reaching England, and when they arrived in London at last Talbot Strangemore did not stop to rest an hour. They were so fortunate as to find a steamer within an hour of sailing, and they embarked with her for their tour across the broad Atlantic. When they were fairly launched upon the blue waves Talbot counted what days of grace remained to him. If they made the trip successfully in ten days, as the captain expected to do, he would get to Baltimore in time to stay the execution of the death-warrant. They had started on the 13th of July. On the 25th Nina Strangemore was to suffer death for a crime she had never committed. “My God, if anything should happen to delay us,” Talbot groaned to his friend in agony of spirit. “We will hope and pray for the best,” Harvey Wilson answered, sympathizingly. He told his friend’s story to the captain and passengers. Their deepest sympathy was excited for the worn, haggard, anxious-looking man who leaned listlessly over the vessel’s side day by day, looking into the foam-capped waves as if into a grave, and whose only interest centered in the weather, who grew frantic almost if a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand came over the sun, and who could not rest for studying the stars by night.