yes were wide with an unspoken fear.
Whatever she might say or leave unsaid, neither of those two persons who
looked at her could doubt for another moment that Sabina Meldreth had a
secret--a guilty secret--weighing heavily upon her mind.

Mrs. Meldreth's weak voice once more broke the silence.

"I never thought of its harming you, my dear," she said. "I thought you
was rich and would not want houses and lands. And, when Mrs. Vane that
now is came to me and said----"

She did not achieve her sentence. Sabina Meldreth had flown like a
tigress at her mother's throat.

But, fortunately for Mrs. Meldreth, a strong and resolute man was in the
room. He had already drawn nearer to Sabina, with a feeling that she was
not altogether to be trusted, and, as soon as she made her first savage
movement--so like that of a wild beast leaping on its prey--his hands
were upon her, his strong arms holding her back. For a minute there was
a frightful struggle. The Rector pinioned her arms; but she, with the
ferocity of an undisciplined nature, flung her head sideways and
fastened her teeth in his arm. Her strength and her agility were so
great that the Rector could not easily disengage himself; and, although
the cloth of his coat-sleeve prevented her attempt to bite from doing
any great injury, the assault was sufficiently painful and sufficiently
unexpected to protract the struggle longer than might have been
anticipated. For, as she was a woman, Maurice Evandale did not like to
resort to active violence, and it was with some difficulty that he at
last mastered her and placed her in a chair, where for a few minutes he
had to hold her until her struggles ceased and were succeeded by a burst
of convulsive sobs. Then he felt that he might relax his hold, she
ceased to be dangerous when she began to cry.

Enid had involuntarily withdrawn her arm from Mrs. Meldreth's shoulders,
and sprung to her feet with a low cry when she saw the struggle that was
taking place; but in a second or two she conquered her impulse to fly to
the Rector's aid, and with rare self-control bent once more over the
dying woman, who needed her help more than Mr. Evandale could. Poor Mrs.
Meldreth was almost unconscious of the disturbance. Her eyes were
glazing, her sight was growing feeble, the words that fell from her lips
were broken and disconnected. But still she spoke--still she went on
pouring her story into Enid's listening ears.

When the Rector at last loo