Brace took the handkerchief handed to him, as if the donor were about to strike him down. Then he drew back as father and daughter entered the chaise, so that he did not catch the order given to the post-boy. Then there was a stiff salutation from the gentleman; a slight bow from the lady; and the horses had started, leaving Brace, bareheaded, handsome, and flushed, standing in the road, till, suddenly the front windows were dashed down, the door partly opened, and, evidently suffering from some strong emotion, the face of the gentleman appeared to be turned the next moment towards the post-boy, as he roared, in a voice of thunder: "Stop!" Book 2, Chapter III. ANOTHER ENCOUNTER. "What now?" grumbled the post-boy, as he turned in his saddle, and then, in obedience to the gesticulations directed at him, pulled up very slowly, and not until he had traversed nearly a hundred yards of road. Flinging down the steps, the gentleman alighted, half dragged his daughter from her seat, so rudely, indeed, that she nearly fell. Then drawing her arm tightly through his own, he walked back to the injured post-boy and gave some order, his forehead netted the while with the swelling veins, and his face now pale and flushed by the passion that agitated his breast. He seemed to quite ignore the presence of Brace, and before the young man could recover from his astonishment, father and daughter were hurriedly walking away. "Is there anything wrong?--is--that is, can I be of no assistance?" stammered Brace, as he ran after and overtook them--speaking to the father, but gazing the while in the daughter's pale and frightened face, as if his eyes were riveted there; but only to meet with a strange, imploring look, half horror--half dread. The stranger tried to speak, as he raised one trembling hand, pointing towards the carriage, but no words passed his lips; and motioning the young man fiercely, he hurriedly led his trembling charge away. "Is he mad?" said Brace to himself. "And to drag that poor girl away like that! What more can I do?" he muttered, as the post-boy drew up alongside of where he stood. "I've put the portmanty back in the front, sor, as them two ain't agoing." But Brace Norton did not seem to hear him, as, seeking for some clue to this strange alteration in the old man's behaviour, his eyes fell upon the seat of the chaise the travellers had so lately occupied, where, forgotten for the time, lay his travelling writing-case, with its brass-plate bearing his name and that of his ship. Well, yes, he had forgotten that, but what was there in his name to make the old man leap from the chaise as if half mad, unless--