He longed to say ‘Don’t,’ but he dared not. Whatever lay in the future for him, he must not say a word more than necessary to her, whilst he wore those robes. So he said ‘Good-night!’ also, in an awkward manner, as if he were ashamed to part with her so coldly, and turned away. But, as he reached the door, he halted for a moment to add,--‘You have done me so much good, I feel quite hopeful since I have seen you! God bless you!’ and, nodding kindly, went his way. And when he had disappeared, Rhoda sank down on her knees, and thanked God that she had seen him again, and that he still thought of and regarded her as a friend. CHAPTER IX. When Henry Hindes left the presence of Frederick Walcheren, he hailed a hansom and ordered the driver to take him back to Hampstead. He was not only unable to stand or walk, he was incapable of thinking. He lolled back in the hansom like a dead body, and had barely strength to alight at his own door. The servant who admitted him, used as he had been to see his master look ill of late, ran down to the lower regions to say that he believed ‘The guv’ner was dying, he seemed that bad.’ Hannah, who, having heard his entrance, came smiling out into the hall to meet him, was struck by his altered appearance, and exclaimed,-- ‘What is the matter with you? Have you been ill? Are you in any pain?’ To all which, Hindes only said in answer,-- ‘Be quiet! Hold your tongue! Am I destined never to have any peace?’ He pushed his way past her to the library, where she followed him. ‘How can you be so unkind and ungrateful, Henry? I was coming to tell you a piece of good news, that I knew you would be glad to hear.’ ‘Good news! What good news can there ever be for me again?’ ‘I believe you will think it the very best you could receive. Doctor Sewell has been here this afternoon, and brought Mr Lyndhurst with him. They made a thorough examination of Wally, and Mr Lyndhurst says we may set our minds completely at rest with regard to his spine being permanently affected. It received a great shock by the concussion, but all the dangerous symptoms have abated, and I am to let him get up for a few hours to-morrow, and so gradually put him on his feet again. Now, isn’t that good news?’ Hannah said sweetly, as she put her hand upon her husband’s arm. But Hindes did not smile, nor look at her. He jerked his arm roughly from her detaining clasp instead, and, sinking down upon a sofa, murmured,-- ‘Too late! too late!’ ‘Too late!’ exclaimed his wife, in a tone of surprise, ‘what do you mean, Henry? Too late to have our dear child restored to us, safe and sound again. I thought that was what you were praying for, with myself. I thought the news would make you wild with joy. What are you thinking of?’ ‘Just what I say! I am thankful for the child’s sake, of course, but the news comes too late for me. My secret is known, Hannah! I have betrayed myself. The bloodhounds of justice are on my track.’