But again she refused any explanation, merely saying that her departure from Leeds was imperative, and expressing despair that her enemies would never relinquish their hot pursuit. They were hounding her down, she said in despair, and they must sooner or later triumph over her. "No," I exclaimed. "Hope on, Tibbie. You must escape--you will escape. They shall never harm you as long as I have strength to be your protector." "Ah!" she cried. "How can I thank you, Wilfrid. To you I owe my very life. Without you I should have ended it all long ago." "Never mind that now," I urged. "You must escape. Where shall you go?" "Anywhere. It is just the same to me," was her answer. "Then I suggest you take the midday train up to Newcastle. There's a quiet hotel where you may live comfortably and unnoticed, the Douglas, in Grainger Street West. Remain there a few days, and then move on across to Carlisle." "I know Carlisle," she said. "I've broken the journey there often when going to Scotland." "But you are not known there?" "Only at the County Hotel. I can go somewhere else, of course. But are you not coming?" she asked, quickly. "Remember my whole future depends upon you passing yourself off as my husband, William Morton." "For the next few days I think it would be as well for us to remain apart," I replied, for truth to tell I had suddenly formed a plan, and was now anxious to make a flying visit up to London in order to put it into execution. Her face fell. "But you will return to me?" she asked, very anxiously. "Yes--I will meet you in Carlisle in a week's time. Go to Newcastle for four days, and thence to Carlisle. Indeed, change your address constantly. In Newcastle assume another name, and in Carlisle another. Do not go in the name of Morton again until we meet. I shall write to you at the post-office in Carlisle. To-day is Tuesday. Next Tuesday you shall hear from me." "Why do you leave me alone?" she pouted. "How can I spend a whole week wandering about without a companion?" "Don't you see, Tibbie, that it is very necessary that I should show up to your mother and Jack in order to still pretend to make an effort to find traces of you?" I asked. "Ah! yes," she sighed. "I suppose you are right. You do all you can in my interests, so I ought not to complain." "I am glad you are convinced that my return to London is with the object of averting suspicion," I said. "Go up to Newcastle and escape these enemies of yours--whoever they are. Travel constantly if possible. You have money. If not I can give you some." "Thanks--I have plenty," was her reply; and then she reluctantly commenced packing her trunk preparatory to her hurried departure. And at noon we had grasped hands on the platform and I had seen her into a third-class compartment of the express bound for Newcastle.