“No, not Vijal; he was incorruptible; but all the others. They would have obeyed your slightest wish in any respect. They would have shed their blood for you, for the simple reason that I had promised to pay each man an enormous sum if he saved you from any trouble. They were all on the look out. You never were so watched in your life. If you had chosen to run off every man of them would have helped you, and would have rejoiced at the chance of making themselves rich at the expense of Potts. Under these circumstances I thought you were safe.” “And why did you not tell me?” “Ah! love, there are many things which I must not tell you.” He sighed. His sombre tone brought back her senses which had been wandering. She struggled to get away. He would not release her. “Let me go!” said she. “I am of the accursed brood--the impure ones! You are polluted by my touch!” “I will not let you go,” returned he, in a tone of infinite sweetness. “Not now. This may be our last interview. How can I let you go?” “I am pollution.” “You are angelic. Oh, let us not think of other things. Let us banish from our minds the thought of that barrier which rises between us. While we are here let us forget every thing except that we love one another. To-morrow will come, and our joy will be at an end forever. But you, darling, will be saved! I will guard you to my life’s end, even though I can not come near you.” Tears fell from Beatrice’s eyes. He felt them hot upon his hand. He sighed deeply. “I am of the accursed brood!--the accursed!--the accursed! You dishonor your name by touching me.” Brandon clang to her. He would not let her go. She wept there upon his breast, and still murmured the words, “Accursed! accursed!” Their carriage rolled on, behind them came the other; on for mile after mile, round the bays and creeks of the sea, until at last they reached a village. “This is our destination,” said Brandon. “Where are we?” sighed Beatrice. “It is Denton,” he replied. The coach stopped before a little cottage. Asgeelo opened the door. Brandon pressed Beatrice to his heart. “For the last time, darling,” he murmured. She said nothing. He helped her out, catching her in his arms as she descended, and lifting her to the ground. Mrs. Compton was already waiting, having descended first. Lights were burning in the cottage window. “This is your home for the present,” said Brandon. “Here you are safe. You will find every thing that you want, and the servants are faithful. You may trust them.” He shook hands, with Mrs. Compton, pressed the hand of Beatrice, and leaped into the coach. “Good-by,” he called, as Asgeelo whipped the horses. “Good-by forever,” murmured Beatrice through her tears. CHAPTER XLVII. ROUSED AT LAST. About this time Despard received a call from Langhetti. “I am going away,” said the latter, after the preliminary greetings. “I am well enough now to resume my search after Beatrice.” “Beatrice?” “Yes.” “What can you do?”