matter now? I love him
and I have ruined him--had it not been for me he would be safe!"

After a little silence Sir Adrian rose. "I must leave you now, I must
go to Pulwick," he said. His heart was yearning to her, he would have
gathered her to his arms as a father his erring child, but he
refrained from even touching her. "And you--what would you do? It
shall be as you like."

"I would go to Lancaster," she said.

"The carriage shall be sent for you in the morning and Renny and his
wife shall go with you. I will see to it. After Rupert's funeral--my
God, what a night this has been!--I will join you, and together we
shall work to save his life."

He paused, hesitated, and was about to turn away when suddenly she
caught his hand and kissed it.

He knew she would as readily have kissed Rene's hand for a like
promise; that her gratitude was a pitiable thing for him, her husband,
to bear; and yet, all the way, on his sad and solitary journey to
Pulwick, the touch of her lips went with him, bringing a strange
sweetness to his heart.

* * * * *

There was a vast deal of wonder in the county generally, and among the
old friends of his father's house in particular, when it became known
that Sir Adrian Landale had engaged a noted counsel to defend his
brother's murderer and was doing all he could to avert his probable
doom. In lowered tones were whispered strange tales of Lady Landale's
escapade. People wagged wise and virtuous heads and breathed
scandalous hints of her power upon her infatuated husband; and then
they would tap their foreheads significantly. Indeed it needed all the
master of Pulwick's wide-spread reputation for mental unsoundness to
enable him to carry through such proceedings without rousing more
violent feelings. As it was, it is to be doubted whether his
interference had any other effect than that of helping to inflame the
public mind against the prisoner.

The jury's verdict was a foregone conclusion; and though the learned
lawyer duly prepared a very fine speech and pocketed some monstrous
fees with a great deal of complaisance, he was honest enough not to
hold out the smallest hope of being able to save his client.

The conviction was too clear, the "crimes" the prisoner had committed
were of "too horrible and bloody a character, threatening the very
foundations of society," to admit of a merciful view of the case.

As the trial drew near, Sir Adrian's desponden