ir came upon him, dulling his tired faculties, and
seeming to warn him that all was over. There was no help that he could
see near at hand, for the servants with Sir Murray Gernon did not seem
to know which direction to take. It seemed so hard, too, just as he had
begun to feel hopeful about his love, to be dragged down by their common
enemy to the depths of the lake; and at last, as he felt the water
closing over him, he gave another fierce struggle, forcing himself up an
instant, till he had uttered the hoarse, harsh, despairing cry of a
dying man--dying in the hour of his full strength--and then there were a
few bubbles and rings upon the surface of the water, where, locked still
in their deadly embrace, the rivals had gone down.

Book 1, Chapter XXIX.

THE HELPING HAND.

Mrs Norton had gone to her rest that night in tears, for her husband
had been absent for some days. His restlessness seemed of late to have
been largely on the increase, so that when he was at home she was kept
upon a tremble of expectation lest at any time he might be gone. True,
he was always quiet and gentle, and proud as ever of his boy; but the
proximity of the Gernons was like a cloud over him, and as she
determinedly drove away the suspicions that would try to fasten upon
her, Ada Norton could not but own to herself that while the Gernons were
at the Castle, or they themselves stayed at the Hall, there could be no
real happiness for her. She knew well enough how it preyed upon her
husband's spirits, when, from time to time, rumours of the state of
affairs reached them. She had hoped that a reconciliation would long
ere this have taken place--that is to say, between husband and wife; but
the fact of their complete estrangement, taken in connection with Sir
Murray's character, and Captain Norton's strange, reserved behaviour,
always seemed to be the hold by which doubt tried again and again to
fasten upon her.

Philip Norton came not that night, and Mrs Norton lay weakly weeping,
determined in her own mind that, in spite of their poverty, she would
try and persuade him to leave the Hall--to go anywhere, so that they
might but keep together. She knew that, on account of his connection
with the mines, it would be useless to endeavour to get him to move to a
distance; but even a few miles farther away would, she felt, bring them
more peace; of that she felt assured, telling herself that her husband's
frequent absences now were caused by