hair shadowed in wild and disorderly profusion the
pale face and features, beautiful indeed, but at that moment of the
beauty which an artist would impart to a young gladiator--stamped
with defiance, menace, and despair. The disordered garb--the fierce
aspect--the dark eyes, that literally shone through the shadows of the
room-all conspired to increase the terror of so abrupt a presence.

"What are you?--What do you seek here?" said she, falteringly, placing
her hand on the bell as she spoke. Upon that soft hand Morton laid his
own.

"I seek my life! I am pursued! I am at your mercy! I am innocent! Can
you save me?"

As he spoke, the door of the outer room beyond was heard to open, and
steps and voices were at hand.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, recoiling as he recognised her face. "And is it to
you that I have fled?"

Eugenie also recognised the stranger; and there was something in their
relative positions--the suppliant, the protectress--that excited both
her imagination and her pity. A slight colour mantled to her cheeks--her
look was gentle and compassionate.

"Poor boy! so young!" she said. "Hush!"

She withdrew her hand from his, retired a few steps, lifted a curtain
drawn across a recess--and pointing to an alcove that contained one of
those sofa-beds common in French houses, added in a whisper,--

"Enter--you are saved."

Morton obeyed, and Eugenie replaced the curtain.

CHAPTER XIII.

GUIOMAR.
"Speak! What are you?"

RUTILIO.
"Gracious woman, hear me. I am a stranger:
And in that I answer all your demands."
Custom of the Country.

Eugenie replaced the curtain. And scarcely had she done so ere the steps
in the outer room entered the chamber where she stood. Her servant was
accompanied by two officers of the police.

"Pardon, madame," said one of the latter; "but we are in pursuit of
a criminal. We think he must have entered this house through a window
above while your servant was in the street. Permit us to search?"

"Without doubt," answered Eugenie, seating herself. "If he has entered,
look in the other apartments. I have not quitted this room."

"You are right. Accept our apologies."

And the officers turned back to examine every corner where the fugitive
was not. For in that, the scouts of Justice resembled their mistress:
when does man's justice look to the right place?

The servant lingered to repeat the tale he had heard--the sight he had