s it you mean? Who has been murdered?" gasped out the terrified
girl.

"Why old Squire Hurdlestone. He has been shot dead by his own son--that
young chap who has been staying here so long. They have got him safe,
though. And by this time he must be in jail. Oh, I hope they will hang
'un. But hanging is too good. He should be burnt alive."

And here the old man hobbled on, eager to get a sight of the frightful
spectacle, and to hear all the news from the fountain head.

The first blush of the red dawn was glowing in the east; but Clary still
remained in the same attitude, with her hand resting upon the half-open
gate, her eyes fixed on vacancy, her lips apart, a breathing image of
despair. The stage coach from ---- drove briskly up. A gentleman sprang
from the top of the vehicle. A portmanteau was flung down to him by the
guard.--"All right," and the horses were again at full gallop.

"Clary, dear Clary, who would have thought of your being up so early to
meet me?"

That voice seemed to recall the wandering spirit of the pale girl back
to its earthly tabernacle. With a long wild cry, she flung herself into
her brother's arms. "Hide me in your heart, Frederic, hide me from
myself. I am sick and weary of the world!"

Unable to comprehend the cause of this violent agitation, Frederic
Wildegrave carried his now insensible sister into the house, and calling
Ruth, who was busy kindling the fires, he bade her awake Mr. Anthony.
The woman shook her head mysteriously.

"He's gone, sir. He left us suddenly last night, and Miss Clary has been
up ever since."

"I fear it is as I suspected. He must have robbed me. Yet, if he has
deceived me, I never will trust to physiognomy again."

He opened his desk, and found two hundred pounds in notes, and turning
to the window to examine them, he recognised the letter addressed to him
by Anthony that was lying on the table.

With feelings of compassion and astonishment, he hastily glanced over
the affecting account it contained of the thrilling events of the past
week. Several times the tears sprang to his eyes, and he reproached
himself for having suspected Anthony of having eloped with the money
left in his charge. He knew what agony of mind his cousin must have
endured before he could prevail upon himself to petition his relentless
father for the loan of the sum he had imprudently lent to Godfrey. He
only blamed him for the want of confidence which had hindered him from
communic