"If so be you are Mistress Peyton, why, this letter is for you. Master left it on his table in his bed-room." Kate took the letter and opened it, all in a flutter. It ran thus:-- "SWEET MISTRESS,--When this reaches you, I shall be no more here to trouble you with my jealousy. This Neville set it abroad that you had changed horses with him, as much as to say you had plighted troth with him. He is a liar, and I told him so to his teeth. We are to meet at noon this day, and one must die. Methinks I shall be the one. But come what may, I have taken care of thee; ask Jack Houseman else. But, O dear Kate, think of all that hath passed between us, and do not wed this Neville, or I could not rest in my grave. Sweetheart, many a letter have I written thee, but none so sad as this. Let the grave hide my faults from thy memory; think only that I loved thee well. I leave thee my substance--would it were ten times more!--and the last thought of my heart. "So no more in this world "From him that is thy true lover "And humble servant till death, "GRIFFITH GAUNT." There seems to be room in the mind for only one violent emotion at one instant of time. This touching letter did not just then draw a tear from her, who now received it some hours sooner than the writer intended. Its first effect was to paralyze her. She sat white and trembling, and her great eyes filled with horror. Then she began to scream wildly for help. The men and women came round her. "Murder! murder!" she shrieked. "Tell me where to find him, ye wretches, or may his blood be on your heads!" The Scamp bounded from his lounging position, and stood before her straight as an arrow. "Follow me!" he shouted. Her gray eyes and the Scamp's black ones flashed into one another directly. He dashed out of the yard without another word. And she spurred her horse, and clattered out after him. He ran as fast as her horse could canter, and soon took her all round the house; and while he ran, his black gypsy eyes were glancing in every direction. When they got to the lawn at the back of the house, he halted a moment, and said quietly,-- "Here they be." He pointed to some enormous footsteps in the snow, and bade her notice that they commenced at a certain glass door belonging to the house, and that they all pointed outwards. The lawn was covered with such marks, but the Scamp followed those his intelligence had selected, and they took him through a gate, and down a long walk, and into the park. Here no other feet had trodden that morning except those Tom Leicester was following.