ollow me out of England on the first of April, you
would have been made State prisoners on the second. What do you say to
my conduct now?"

"Wait, Percy, before you answer him," Mr. Bowmore interposed. "He is
ready enough at excusing himself. But, observe--he hasn't a word to say
in justification of my daughter's readiness to run away with him."

"Have you quite done?" Bervie asked, as quietly as ever.

Mr. Bowmore reserved the right of all others which he most prized,
the right of using his tongue. "For the present," he answered in his
loftiest manner, "I have done."

Bervie proceeded: "Your daughter consented to run away with me, because
I took her to my father's house, and prevailed upon him to trust her
with the secret of the coming arrests. She had no choice left but to let
her obstinate father and her misguided lover go to prison--or to take
her place with my sister and me in the traveling-carriage." He appealed
once more to Percy. "My friend, you remember the day when you spared my
life. Have I remembered it, too?"

For once, there was an Englishman who was not contented to express the
noblest emotions that humanity can feel by the commonplace ceremony of
shaking hands. Percy's heart overflowed. In an outburst of unutterable
gratitude he threw himself on Bervie's breast. As brothers the two men
embraced. As brothers they loved and trusted one another, from that day
forth.

The door on the right was softly opened from within. A charming
face--the dark eyes bright with happy tears, the rosy lips just
opening into a smile--peeped into the room. A low sweet voice, with an
under-note of trembling in it, made this modest protest, in the form of
an inquiry:

"When you have quite done, Percy, with our good friend, perhaps you will
have something to say to ME?"

LAST WORDS.

THE persons immediately interested in the marriage of Percy and
Charlotte were the only persons present at the ceremony.

At the little breakfast afterward, in the French hotel, Mr. Bowmore
insisted on making a speech to a select audience of six; namely, the
bride and bridegroom, the bridesmaid, the Chaplain, the Captain, and
Mrs. Bowmore. But what does a small audience matter? The English frenzy
for making speeches is not to be cooled by such a trifle as that. At
the end of the world, the expiring forces of Nature will hear a dreadful
voice--the voice of the last Englishman delivering the last speech.

Percy wisely made his honeymoon a