Motionless and breathless, I saw him pass within two feet of me, stop, whistle again, and then, after a pause, throwing himself at full length on the ground, with his face toward the park, within a few yards of where I was, lie waiting for I did not dare to think what. Victor, I was certain, would be somewhere about the grounds, watching for my return; this direction, sooner or later, he would inevitably take. Moment after moment crept on; every movement of the stranger--even his heavy breathing--were as distinct as if he had been within reach of my hand, and the least motion on my part--the faintest rustle of my dress, or of the branches of the thicket--would, of course, be as audible to him, and most dangerous to me; indeed, if he were to turn this way, I could hardly hope to escape detection, for my light drapery, only half hid behind the dark thicket, would inevitably betray me. How long this would last--how determined he could be in his vigil--I dreaded to conjecture. None but Victor was likely to come to my assistance, and that was just the very worst of all. There was still enough light left in the west to distinguish, as I looked eagerly that way, that a figure, from the direction of the house, was crossing the lawn toward us. I turned sick with fear as I recognized, bounding before the rapidly-approaching walker, Victor's constant companion, little Tigre; and this, no doubt, was Victor. I alone could warn him of the danger that awaited him; but, faint and almost paralyzed with fear, I had not strength nor courage to stir. The villain beside me, less quick-sighted, had not yet discovered his advance. He was not yet half-way across the park; there might be time. I made a desperate resolve, and, clearing the copse at one bound, flew, as only terror and desperation can fly. I heard the startled oath the man uttered, and the cracking of the birch boughs as he regained his feet; I heard him spring forward in pursuit, but by that time I was out of the wood and on the lawn, and in another instant I had reached my goal. Catching his arm, I exclaimed vehemently, forgetting everything in my terror: "Don't go near that horrid wood, _Victor!_ Come back, as you value your life!" I was too much terrified to await his reply; but, calling to him to follow me, I ran on at the top of my speed, and never paused till I had reached the terrace, and, sinking down on the stone steps, I covered my face with my hands, panting and exhausted. Raising my head as I heard his step beside me, I began: "You don't know how narrow an escape you have had! That"---- "You have made a mistake," interrupted my companion. "It is not _Victor_." With an exclamation of amazement and chagrin, I sprung from him up the steps. I had made a miserable mistake, indeed; it was Mr. Rutledge. CHAPTER XXVII. "But 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange How suddenly his cheer would change, His look o'ercast and lower--