boyne exchanged an approving glance with Jael, and Raby concluded the
letter.

"I shall be home in a few days after this; and, if I find my darling
well and happy, there's no great harm done. I don't mind my own trouble
and anxiety, great as they are, but if any scoundrel has made her
unhappy, or made her believe I am dead, or false to my darling, by God,
I'll kill him, though I hang for it next day!"

Crushed, benumbed, and broken as Grace Coventry was, this sentence
seemed to act on her like an electric shock.

She started wildly up. "What! my Henry die like a felon--for a villain
like him, and an idiot like me! You won't allow that; nor you--nor I."

A soft step came to the door, and a gentle tap.

"Who is that?" said Dr. Amboyne.

"The bridegroom," replied a soft voice.

"You can't come in here," said Raby, roughly.

"Open the door," said the bride.

Jael went to the door, but looked uncertain.

"Don't keep the bridegroom out," said Grace, reproachfully. Then, in a
voice as sweet as his own, "I want to see him; I want to speak to him."

Jael opened the door slowly, for she felt uneasy. Raby shrugged his
shoulders contemptuously at Grace's condescending to speak to the man,
and in so amiable a tone.

Coventry entered, and began, "My dear Grace, the carriage is ready--"

No sooner had she got him fairly into the room, than the bride snatched
up the stiletto, and flew at the bridegroom with gleaming eyes, uplifted
weapon, the yell of a furious wild beast, and hair flying out behind her
head like a lion's mane.

CHAPTER XL.

Dr. Amboyne and Raby cried out, and tried to interfere; but Grace's
movement was too swift, furious, and sudden; she was upon the man, with
her stiletto high in the air, before they could get to her, and indeed
the blow descended, and, inspired as it was by love, and hate, and fury,
would doubtless have buried the weapon in a rascal's body; but Jael
Dence caught Grace's arm: that weakened, and also diverted the blow; yet
the slight, keen weapon pierced Coventry's cheek, and even inflicted a
slight wound upon the tongue. That very moment Jael Dence dragged her
away, and held her round the waist, writhing and striking the air; her
white hand and bridal sleeve sprinkled with her bridegroom's blood.

As for him, his love, criminal as it was, supplied the place of heroism:
he never put up a finger in defense. "No," said he, despairingly, "let
me die by her hand; it is all I