"What do you tell me, child?" "The truth, upon my word and honor, I do. But please to drive on--quick, please! I've been such a time gone, he'll think I'm lost" Mr. Abel urged the pony forward, and at last they arrived at the door of Mr. Swiveller's lodgings. "See! It's that room up there," said the Marchioness, pointing to one where there was a faint light. "Come!" Mr. Abel who was naturally timid, hesitated; for he had heard of people being decoyed into strange places, to be robbed and murdered, under circumstances very like the present, by guides very like the Marchioness. His regard for Kit, however, overcame every other consideration. So he suffered his companion to lead him up the dark and narrow stair, into a dimly lighted sick-chamber, where a man was lying tranquilly in bed, in whose wasted face he recognized the features of Richard Swiveller. "Why, how is this?" said Mr. Abel, kindly, "You have been ill?" "Very," replied Dick, "Nearly dead. You might have chanced to hear of your Richard on his bier, but for the friend I sent to fetch you. Another shake of the hand, Marchioness, if you please. Sit down, sir." Mr. Abel seemed rather astonished to hear of the quality of his guide, and took a chair by the bedside. "I have sent for you, sir," said Dick--"but she told you on what account?" "She did. I am quite bewildered by all this. I really don't know what to say or think," replied Mr. Abel. "You'll say that presently," retorted Dick. "Marchioness, take a seat on the bed, will you? Now, tell this gentleman all that you told me, and be particular." The story was repeated, without any deviation or omission, after which Richard Swiveller took the word again; "You have heard it all," said Richard. "I'm too giddy and queer to suggest anything, but you and your friends will know what to do. After this long delay, every minute is an age. Don't stop to say one word to me, but go! If you lose another minute in looking at me, sir, I'll never forgive you!" Mr. Abel needed no more persuasion. To Dick's unbounded delight he was gone in an instant, and Mr. Swiveller, exhausted by the interview, was soon asleep, murmuring 'Strew, then, oh strew a bed of rushes. Here will we stay till morning blushes.' "Good-night, Marchioness!" On awaking in the morning, he became conscious of whispering voices in his room, and espied Mr. Garland, Mr. Abel, and two other gentlemen talking earnestly with the Marchioness. Upon perceiving the invalid to be awake, Mr. Garland stretched out his hand, and inquired how Mr. Swiveller felt; adding "And what can we do for you?" "If you could make the Marchioness yonder, a Marchioness in real, sober earnest," returned Dick, "I'd thank you to get it done offhand. But as you can't, the question is, what is it best to do for Kit?"