conscious Death tracking his very steps--drove Vincent back with a sudden paralysing touch. He stood chilled and horror-stricken in the crowd, which watched and wondered at him: he drew himself feebly out of their detaining circle, and went and sat down on the nearest seat he could find, like a man who had been stunned by some unexpected blow. He was not impatient when he heard how long he must wait before he could follow them. It was a relief to wait, to recover his breath, to realise his own position once more. That dreadful sight, diabolical and out of nature, had driven the very life-blood out of his heart. As he sat, flung upon his bench in utter exhaustion and feebleness, stunned and stupified, leaning his aching head in his hands, and with many curious glances thrown at him by the bystanders, some of whom were not sure that he ought to be suffered to go at large, Vincent became sensible that some one was plucking at his sleeve, and sobbing his name. It was some time before he became aware that those weeping accents were addressed to him; some time longer before he began to think he had heard the voice before, and was so far moved as to look up. When he did raise his head it was with a violent start that he saw a little rustic figure, energetically, but with tears, appealing to him, whom his bewildered faculties slowly made out to be Mary, his mother's maid, whom Susan had taken with her when she left Lonsdale. As soon as he recognised her he sprang up, restored to himself with the first gleam of real hope which had yet visited him. "My sister is here!" he cried, almost with joy. Mary made no answer but by a despairing outbreak of tears. "Oh no, Mr. Arthur; no--oh no, no! never no more!" cried poor Mary, when she found her voice. "It's all been deceitfulness and lyin' and falsehood, and it ain't none o' her doing--oh no, no, Mr. Arthur, no!--but now she's got nobody to stand by her, for he took and brought me up this very day; oh, don't lose no time!--he took and brought me up, pretending it was to show me the way, and he sent me right off, Mr. Arthur, and she don't know no more nor a baby, and he'll take her off over the seas this very night--he will; for I had it of his own man. She's written letters to her Ma, Mr. Arthur, but I don't think as they were ever took to the post; and he makes believe they're a-going to be married, and he'll have her off to France to-night. Oh, Mr. Arthur, Mr. Arthur, don't lose no time. They're at a 'otel. Look you here--here's the name as I wrote down on a bit o' paper to make sure; and oh, Mr. Arthur, mind what I say, and don't lose no time!" "But Susan--Susan--what of her?" cried her brother, unconsciously clutching at the girl's arm.