wrought an extraordinary thing in your behalf, may yet do much. I will leave it to its course. But with regard to your own conduct, beware! I warn you to beware. Choose well your moment, and of all things be not hasty. But hark, what is that I hear below? There are his horses' feet, and I must leave you. Thank God, those idiot justices are gone." "Yet one moment," said Langford, as she turned to depart: "I may have thought that you wronged me and mine, but I have not doubted--I have not suspected you, as you suppose. On the contrary, in many things, as you may have seen, I have followed your advice--in others, that of one whom I was more strictly bound to confide in." "Ay, and it was she who taught you to believe--it was she who was weak enough to believe herself, that I had been guilty of that which I would scorn." "No!" exclaimed Langford--"No! You mistake: she never did believe you guilty. She owned, that once, in a moment of anger, she implied so; but she did you justice in that respect through the whole of her life. She told me more than once, too, that she had herself seen you, and assured you, that she did not doubt you, as you imagined--that anger, having passed away, justice and right judgment had returned." "But all her words were cold," said Bertha, "and all her letters had something of restraint in them." "Consider her situation," said Langford in return; "and remember that she had some cause to blame, as yourself acknowledged; though, in regard to other things, she might have done you injustice." "She did bitter injustice to herself," replied the woman, "and drove me to attach myself to others, though I would fain have attached myself to her; and, having done so, would have served her with my heart's blood;--but I must not linger; I will see you again, ere long--farewell!" and thus saying, she left him, locking the door behind her. CHAPTER XII. Langford had not been left five minutes alone ere the sound of voices of persons rapidly approaching caught his ear. At first he imagined that they proceeded from the side by which he himself had entered; but the moment after he became convinced that they came from the direction of the other door, which, as he justly supposed, communicated with a staircase in one of the large buttresses. At first, of course, the sounds were indistinct, but, a moment after, a key was placed in the lock, and a loud, deep voice was heard exclaiming, "I will stop for nothing till I have seen him face to face! Where is this murderer of my son?" The door was thrown violently open before these words were fully spoken, and the Earl of Danemore himself stood before the prisoner.