judge me leniently when I am gone."

Ada bowed, and gazed at him with starting eyes.

"One of the Castle servants was here the day before yesterday. Did you
see her?"

"I did," said Ada, huskily.

"She brought a note, did she not, from Lady Gernon?"

"No, Sir Murray."

"A message?"

"No."

"She saw Captain Norton?"

"My husband was from home, Sir Murray Gernon."

"She left a message for him?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite. Your servant came to see me, as your wife's old friend and
relative; and, saving the housemaid who admitted her, I alone saw her."

"Have you any objection to tell me the object of her visit?"

Ada was silent.

"Did she come at the wish of Lady Gernon?"

"No," said Ada, for she hardly knew what to reply.

"Then you will tell me why she came?"

Ada was still silent.

"Then I will tell you," said Sir Murray, in a calm voice. "She came to
tell you of some absurd suspicions that she had nursed--to try and
convince you that Lady Gernon's life was in danger; for, like the rest
of us, she had been blinded by the treason of a false woman. I see that
the news has not yet reached your ears. Mrs Norton, your cousin has
fled!"

"Fled!" exclaimed Ada, starting to her feet.

"Yes, fled," he continued, in measured tones, as if he were forcing each
word from his lips. "She left the Castle during my absence, yesterday
afternoon, and she has not returned. Captain Norton engaged a
conveyance yesterday afternoon, and drove away; Captain Norton has not
returned."

Ada Norton stood, pale as a statue, gazing at him with lips apart, as
she realised his words, and thought of her husband's absence, his note,
his strange behaviour, and Jane Barker's words respecting the last
meeting in the wood. Her brain reeled, as the thoughts flashed rapidly
through, and for a moment she felt that she was ready to fall; but she
recovered herself, to hear that her visitor was still speaking.

"I had a last hope that she might be here--that, overtaken by the storm,
this might have been her refuge; but my hope was faint. Mrs Norton, I
might, perhaps, have kept the truth from you for a few hours; but you
must have known it, sooner or later. You have judged me, I believe,
very harshly, so far; now, perhaps, I shall command your pity, as I pity
you."

"Judge you harshly! Pity you! You pity me!" exclaimed Ada, flashing
into a rage, which lit up her whole countenance, as, with one hand she
clutched h