Old Maud tottered after them into the road, and gazed in the direction they had taken. She shook the thin locks that hung about her temples, and wrung her hands, and looked up into the sky. The first stars were beginning to twinkle in the gray transparency of twilight. "Woe's me!" muttered the old crone. "Woe's me! She is leading him to his doom." And her wild look quite scared a little girl who waited on her, when she returned into the lodge. We do not care to follow minutely the young couple's evening walk. There is little pleasure in watching the companionship of villany and innocence, even where the latter is triumphant. Fortunately for Mercy, she was well observed that evening. There was a narrow and secluded dell about a mile from Wilderness Lodge, made obscure in the day-time by over-shadowing trees; doubly gloomy, therefore, in the twilight. The brook from Pendarrel Park murmured along it, and a footpath, devious and unfrequented, followed the wanderings of the streamlet. To that sequestered spot, which might seem almost designed for the rambles of lovers, did Sinson guide the steps of her who trusted him with such unsuspecting fidelity. There in her own simple and homely manner she sought to persuade him to be at peace with the world, and to make atonement for any wrong he might have done. But she spoke to an angry and unrepenting nature, and the only answer to her remonstrances made her acquainted with the worthlessness of him in whom she had confided so long. It was a rude and bitter lesson. "Better he were dead!" has been the exclamation of many a heart deceived like hers. Mercy could no longer hope that the imputations of the villagers were the offspring of rustic jealousy. She hardly knew what happened in the first pain of her discovery. She turned to leave him, for she could do no more. He had followed her, but the watchers interposed. They closed upon the spot in an instant. The maiden was rescued, and the betrayer fled. He glared savagely for one moment upon those who came to save, counted their number, and took to precipitate flight. And the rustics, who had followed the ill-matched maiden with, at least, as much spite as pity, now showed more of the better feeling, and brought her safe, though trembling, home to her mother's cottage.