he gold your
lavish hand has given me will make me and my tribe rich for life. I go
to be their queen. Farewell, Sir Everard Kingsland. My half hour has
expired; the jailer comes to let me out. But first I go straight from
here to Kingsland Court, to tell your mother what I have just told
you--to tell her her idolized son dies for my crime, and to kill her,
if I can, with the news."

The door swung open--Miss Silver flitted out. It broke the spell. The
prisoner started forward, tried hoarsely, vainly to speak. Enfeebled
by long illness, by repeated shocks, he staggered a pace or two and
fell face forward at the jailer's feet like a log.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.

And while Sir Everard Kingsland lay in his felon's cell, doomed to die,
where was she for whose murder he was to give his life? Really
murdered?

Harriet--Lady Kingsland--was not dead. Hundreds of miles of sea and
land rolled between her and Kingsland Court, and in a stately New York
mansion she looked out at the sparkling April sunshine, with life and
health beating strong in her breast.

Mr. George Washington Parmalee had saved her life. On that tragic
night of March tenth, he had quitted the Blue Bell with Mrs. Denover,
and descended at once to the shore, where a boat from the "Angelina
Dobbs" was awaiting them.

Mr. Parmalee took the oars and rowed away in the direction of the park.
The sickly glimmer of the moon showed him the stone terrace and the
solitary figure standing waiting there. But the noise of the wash on
the beach and the sighing of the trees prevented Harriet from hearing
the dip of the sculls. On the sea the night was so dark that the boat
glided along unseen.

He had neared the spot and rowed softly along under the deep shadow of
overhanging trees, when he espied a second figure, muffled in a cloak,
emerge and confront the lady. He recognized, or thought he recognized,
the baronet, and came to a deadlock, with a stifled imprecation.

"It's all up with them three hundred pounds this bout," he thought;
"confound the luck!"

He could not hear the words--the distance was too great--but he could
see them plainly. The wild shriek of Lady Kingsland would have been
echoed by her terrified mother had not the artist clapped his hand
firmly over her mouth.

"Darnation! Dry up, can't you? Oh, good God!"

He started up in horror, nearly upsetting the boat. He had seen the
fatal blow given, he saw th