nt and exhausted to speak, a sudden darkness before his eyes.

When he had recovered a little, he found that several gentlemen were
gathered around him, and that one of them was holding a flask of whisky
to his lips.

"That was a narrow escape," said a cheery, musical voice. "How long have
you been on foot?"

"Since eight this morning," he replied.

"And now it is nearly eight at night! Well, you may thank Heaven for
preserving your life."

Lord Arleigh turned away with a sigh. How little could any one guess
what life meant for him--life spent without love--love--without
Madaline!

"I have known several lose their lives in this way," continued the same
voice. "Only last year poor Charley Hartigan was caught in a similar
storm, and he lay for four days dead before he was found. This gentleman
has been fortunate."

Lord Arleigh roused himself and looked around. He found himself the
center of observation. The room in which he was lying was large and well
furnished, and from the odor of tobacco it was plainly used as a
smoking-room.

Over him leaned a tall, handsome man, whose hair was slightly tinged
with gray.

"I think," he said, "you are my neighbor, Lord Arleigh? I have often
seen you on the moors."

"I do not remember you," Lord Arleigh returned; "nor do I know where I
am."

"Then let me introduce myself as the Earl of Mountdean," said the
gentleman. "You are at Rosorton, a shooting-lodge belonging to me, and I
beg that you will make yourself at home."

Every attention was paid to him. He was placed in a warm bed, some
warm, nourishing soup was brought to him, and he was left to rest.

"The Earl of Mountdean." Then this was the tall figure he had seen
striding over the hills--this was the neighbor he had shunned and
avoided, preferring solitude. How kind he was, and how his voice
affected him! It was like long-forgotten melody. He asked himself
whether he had seen the earl anywhere. He could not remember. He could
not recall to his mind that they had ever met, yet he had most certainly
heard his voice. He fell asleep thinking of this, and dreamed of
Madaline all night long.

In the morning the earl came himself to his room to make inquiries; and
then Lord Arleigh liked him better than ever. He would not allow his
guest to rise.

"Remember," he said, "prevention is better than cure. After the terrible
risk you have run, it will not do for you to be rash. You must rest."

So Lord Arleigh took the