t come out of those
spirit-vaults. This young lady is no more his wife than she is mine, and
I know no more of her than that she has just come away from Ridley's
office, where she has been looking after a situation. Good Heavens!
cannot a lady walk through the streets of London without being insulted
by a drunken scoundrel like that"?"

"Will you give him in charge, sir?" asked the policeman, while Richard
Foster was making vain efforts to speak coherently, and explain his
claim upon me. I clung to the friendly arm that had come to my aid, sick
and almost speechless with fear.

"Shall I give him in charge?" he asked me.

"I have only just heard of a situation," I whispered, unable to speak
aloud.

"And you are afraid of losing it?" he said; "I understand.--Take the
fellow away, policeman, and lock him up if you can for being drunk and
disorderly in the streets; but the lady won't give him in charge. I've a
good mind to make him go down on his knees and beg her pardon."

"Do, do!" said two or three voices in the crowd.

"Don't," I whispered again, "oh! take me away quickly."

He cleared a passage for us both with a vigor and decision that there
was no resisting. I glanced back for an instant, and saw my husband
struggling with the policeman, the centre of the knot of bystanders from
which I was escaping. He looked utterly unlike a gay, prosperous,
wealthy man, with a well-filled purse, such as he had used to appear. He
was shabby and poor enough now for the policeman to be very hard upon
him, and to prevent him from following me. The stranger kept my hand
firmly on his arm, and almost carried me into Fleet Street, where, in a
minute or two we were quite lost in the throng, and I was safe from all
pursuit.

"You are not fit to go on," he said, kindly; "come out of the noise a
little."

He led me down a covered passage between two shops, into a quiet cluster
of squares and gardens, where only a subdued murmur of the uproar of the
streets reached us. There were a sufficient number of passers-by to
prevent it seeming lonely, but we could hear our own voices, and those
of others, even in whispers.

"This is the Temple," he said, smiling, "a fit place for a sanctuary."

"I do not know how to thank you," I answered falteringly.

"You are trembling still!" he replied; "how lucky it was that I
followed you directly out of Ridley's! If I ever come across that
scoundrel again, I shall know him, you may be sure. I wis