a natural consequence, and in due time every thing
will be well."

There was no reply given to this; but the moaning was deeper, and
apparently more indicative of pain and distress than before. A third
silence ensued, during which they arrived at the Grey Stone, of whose
proximity the driver had received orders to give them intimation.

"Hallo!" exclaimed Henderson, "what's the matter? Why do you stop, my
good fellow?"

"We are at the Grey Stone, your honor," replied the man.

"Oh, very well; pull up a moment," he added. "My dear Miss Sullivan, we
are at the Grey Stone now," said he, addressing her.

She moaned again, and started. "Whist," said she; "I don't hear his
voice."

At this moment a man approached the driver, and desired him to let him
know that a person wished to speak with him.

The female in the carriage no sooner heard the voice, even although the
words were uttered in whispers, than she called out--

"Father, come to me--help me home--I'm dyin'! You've been desaved, Mr.
Henderson," she added. "It wasn't Mave Sullivan, but the Prophet's own
daughter, you took away. Blessed be God, I've saved her that disgrace.
Father, help me home. I won't be long a throuble to you now."

"What's this!" exclaimed Henderson. "Are you not Miss Sullivan?"

"Am I in a dhrame?" said the Prophet, approaching the door of the
chaise. "Surely--now--what is it? It's my daughter's voice! Is that
Sarah that I left in her bed of typhus faver this night? Or, am I in a
dhrame still, I say? Sarah, is it you? Spake."

"It is me, father; help me home. It will be your last throuble with me,
I think--at laste, I hope so--oh, I hope so!"

"Who talks about typhus fever?" asked Henderson, starting out of the
chaise with alarm. "What means this? Explain yourself."

"I can no more explain it," replied the Prophet, "than you can. I left
my daughter lyin' in bed of typhus faver, not more than three or four
hours ago; an' if I'm to believe my ears, I find her in the carriage
with you now!"

"I'm here," she replied; "help me out."

"Oh, I see it all now," observed Henderson, in a fit of passion,
aggravated by the bitterness of his disappointment--"I see your trick;
an' so, you old scoundrel, you thought to impose your termagant daughter
upon me instead of Miss Sullivan, and she reeking with typhus fever,
too, by your own account. For this piece of villany I shall settle with
you, however, never fear. Typhus fever! Good God!--and I s