Besides, what could she do if she remained? She would be a marked woman; something for the curious to gaze at, and for the neighbours to talk about. When the trial was over, and George’s innocence was proved, then she could show herself among her old companions without a blush. She had not her husband’s permission even to call herself by his name. She was still Mrs. Smith. She could not take advantage of his position to proclaim herself Mrs. Heritage. Her father was right. It was best for all that they should get away from Heritage Hall at once. It was no home for her now, and her father declared he could never look the old squire in the face again. ‘I shall feel like a thief, stealing away in the night,’ he said; ‘but, for Master George’s sake, I must do it. If they got me before the lawyers, and made me speak what I know, it ud hang him.’ ‘Father!’ Bess had seized the old lodge-keeper by the arm, and her face was ashy-white. ‘No! no! I don’t mean that, my lass,’ he said, trying to soothe lier. ‘That’s only a manner of speaking, like. Of course there ain’t no murder in it. Squire’ll be all right in a day or two.’ ‘And George will be free?’ ‘Ay, ay, my lass, o’ course he will; and till then you and I will go up to London, and keep out o’ the way o’ curious folk, as wants to know more o’ their neighbours’ business than is good for ‘em. We’ll go up to London, and bide till we hear news o’ the young master.’ In the silence of the night an old man and a young woman stole out of the gates of Heritage Park. The old man looked back with lingering glances at the old place which had been home to him for forty years. He had his little store of money with him, and something that he prized beyond gold—his greatest earthly treasure—his Bess. Miserable as were the circumstances that had reunited them, he yet felt his load of trouble lightened when he remembered that she was by to cheer him. ‘Cheer up, my girl!’ he said, as they passed into the darkness. ‘It was an evil day when the squire cast his son off, and it’s brought nothing but trouble; but, please God, all will come right yet.’ Bess made no reply. She was thinking of how hopefully, a few short hours since, she had come back to the old place, and wondering how anybody could possibly believe her dear, kind, gentle husband guilty of the terrible crime of which he was accused. CHAPTER XXXIII. HUNTED DOWN.