is throat. It seemed an
age of horror before the silence was broken, and then came a panting
voice, which he knew as Humphrey's, to sob, as it were, in his ear--

"Master Dick, don't be scar'd. I've got you tight, but I can't move.
Get your nerve, and then shift your hands one at a time to me."

Without a moment's hesitation, Richard did so, with the damp gathering
on his brow the while.

"That's brave, sir. Now get your toes in the cracks of the granite
somewhere--gently, don't hurry--I won't let go, though I can't move."

Richard obeyed, drew himself up an inch, then another, and another, felt
that he was saved--then made a slip, and all seemed over, but Humphrey
held to him with all his strength, and once more Richard tried, tearing
hands and knees with the exertion, till he got his chest above the cliff
edge, then was halfway up, and crawled safely on, to fall over panting
on his side.

"Quick, Master Richard, your hand!" shouted Humphrey.

And the saved had to turn saver, for the keeper had been drawn closer
and closer to the edge by Richard's efforts, and but for a sudden
snatch, and the exercise of all his strength, the new owner of Penreife
would have glided off the slippery grass into the darkness beneath.

"Safe," muttered Humphrey, rising. "Give me your hand, Master Richard.
I thought, when I followed you, you meant to leap off."

"No, Humphrey," said Richard, sadly, "I will not throw my worthless life
away. It is such glimpses of death as that we have just seen that teach
the value of life. Goodnight; don't speak to me again."

Humphrey obeyed, and followed him in silence to the house.

The next morning, as soon as the letters had been brought in, Richard
took his--a single one--and, without a word to a soul, carried a small
portmanteau to the stable-yard, waited while the horse was put to, and
then had himself driven off.

As he passed the lodge a note was put into his hand by a boy. An hour
later he was in the train, and the destination of that train was the big
metropolis, where most men come who mean to begin afresh.

Volume 3, Chapter II.

CORRESPONDENCE.

It never struck Richard that some of his behaviour was verging on the
Quixotic. His only thought now was that he was degraded from his high
estate, and that the woman whom he had loved with all his heart--did
love still--had turned from him in his poverty and distress.

At such times men are not disposed to fairly analyse the