“Most opportunely met!” cried the minister, grasping his hand; “you are a magistrate, you will go with us, and lend sanction to our proceedings.” He drew the old gentleman aside, and whispered rapidly a few sentences in his ear, at which the watchful Jones observed that Mr. Searle looked surprised and shocked. Then, turning towards the three, “Follow me, my men,” said Mr. Ewart, abruptly; “a great crime has been committed, we go to seize the criminals.” And without giving any further explanation, he led them rapidly towards the cottage of Dowley. If Dowley felt any remorse for the barbarous manner in which he had treated Mark, he was now occupied in drowning all memory and feeling in that fiery drink which ruins so many souls. He had even filled the cups of his children with spirits, and the cottage was a scene of wild, unholy mirth, such as might make the pure angels weep. The sudden entrance of Mr. Ewart without knock or previous warning, a grave, stern expression on that usually mild face, startled the party as though he had been an apparition. He fixed his piercing eye upon Ann, who shrank back and covered her face with her hands, then turned it full upon Dowley whose flushed face showed mingled emotions of anger and fear. “I think that I have seen you before,” said the clergyman; “is not your name John Lawless? were you not once gamekeeper to Lord Fontonore?” “That’s not my name, nor never was,” replied the man surlily; “and I never heard of Lord Fontonore in my life.” “What! not from your wife there, who was nurse in the family, and intrusted with the charge of the eldest son?” “I say, what,” exclaimed the man, starting up furiously, “I don’t know what brings you here, forcing yourself into a man’s home without his leave; you shall go out a little quicker than you came—” “Ay, but I shall not go alone,” replied Mr. Ewart, striking the table with his hand. At the signal, in rushed Jones and the two countrymen, followed by the magistrate; and after a short but furious struggle, they succeeded in securing their prisoner. Ann attempted to make her escape by the back-door; Mr. Ewart laid his hand upon her arm. “You are our prisoner also,” he said, “unhappy woman! nothing remains to you now but to make all the reparation in your power, by a frank and full confession.” Ann wrung her hands in despair. “What is to be done with the children?” said Mr. Ewart to the magistrate, looking round on the frightened, miserable family. “Their proper home is the workhouse—I will see to them; and these prisoners must be sent to the jail.” The clergyman gazed on the children with strong compassion. “We must consider if nothing better can be done for them,” thought he. “Poor inheritors of misery in this world, Heaven grant that they may have been taken from evil influence in time to preserve them, through God’s grace, from misery in that which is to come!” CHAPTER XI. THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRIAL.