pped behind
a dark screen of yews at the back of the church, and knelt hastily upon
the ground beside a little mound of freshly turned sods. Stretching
herself out upon that lowly bed, and embracing it with passionate
tenderness, the child of sin and sorrow found a place to weep, and
poured out her full heart to the silent ear of night.

The day was breaking, when she slowly rose and wiped away her tears.
Regaining the high road, she was overtaken by a man in a wagon, who had
been one of the crowd that had been to look at the murdered man. He
invited Mary to take a seat in the wagon, and finding that he was going
within a few miles of Norgood, she joyfully accepted the offer--and
before Godfrey and her brother recovered from their drunken debauch, or
found that she was missing, she was near the end of her journey.

CHAPTER XXII.

The lyre is hush'd, for ever hush'd the hand,
That woke to ecstacy its thrilling chords;
And that sweet voice, with music eloquent,
Sleeps with the silent lyre and broken heart.--S.M.

"Why do you look so sad, Juliet," said Captain Whitmore to his daughter,
as they stood together at the open window, the morning after her
perilous meeting with Mary Mathews in the park. "Have _I_ said anything
to wound your feelings?"

"I thought that you would have been so glad to find him innocent, papa,"
said Juliet, the tears again stealing down her cheeks, "and I am
disappointed--bitterly disappointed."

"Well, my girl. I am glad that the lad is not guilty of so heinous an
offence. But I can't help feeling a strong prejudice against the whole
breed. These Hurdlestones are a bad set--a bad set. I have seen enough
of them. And, for your own happiness, I advise you, my dear Juliet, to
banish this young man for ever from your thoughts. With my consent you
never shall be his wife."

"Without it I certainly never shall." And Juliet folded her hands
together, and turned away to hide the fresh gush of tears that blinded
her eyes. "At the same time, papa, I must think that the ill-will you
bear to an innocent person is both cruel and unjust."

"Juliet," said the Captain, very gravely, "from the earnestness of your
manner, I fear that you feel a deeper interest in this young Hurdlestone
than I am willing to believe. Answer me truly--do you love the lad?"

"Father, I do love him. I feel that my happiness is inseparably
connected with his." This was said with that charming candor which