then I will punish
the guilty."

"Consider once more, my lord--wait this one night. You have just arrived
from a hasty, disagreeable journey; you are excited, your blood is in a
fever heat, and now without allowing yourself a moment's rest, you wish
to commence your sad work."

"I must have my child. You know that as it is a girl the mother can
dispute this right with me, for by the laws of this land in case of
divorce, the daughters are left to their mother."

"You should endeavor to obtain her by kindness."

"And suppose that Camilla, not out of love to the child, but to wound
and torture me, should refuse me my daughter, what then? Ah! you are
silent, doctor; you see I cannot act otherwise."

"I fear, my lord, you will have some trouble in getting the child. Lady
Elliot has lately changed all the servants engaged by you, not one of
them was allowed to remain. It is most likely that none of the present
servants know you, and therefore you will not be obeyed."

"My plans are all arranged, they shall not prevent me from fulfilling
them."

"But if they refuse to let you enter?"

"Ah, but I shall not ask them, for I have the keys necessary to enter
my own house. When I left home, Camilla threw them laughing and
jesting into my trunk--I now have them with me. All your objections are
confuted. Again, farewell. If you wish to give me another token of your
friendship, meet me at the depot in an hour. I will be there with my
child."

He pressed the doctor's hand tightly, and then hurried into the house.
Noiselessly he mounted the steps. He now stood in front of the large
glass door leading to his dwelling; he leaned for a moment against the
door gasping for breath--for a moment a shuddering doubt overcame him;
he seemed to see the lovely countenance of Camilla, bedewed with tears,
imploring his mercy, his pity. "No, no! no pity, no mercy," he murmured;
"onward, onward!"

He drew forth a key, opened the door and closed it noiselessly
behind him. A bright lamp burned in the hall; sounds of laughing and
merry-making could be heard from the servants' hall; the cries of a
child, and the soft lullaby of a nurse from above. No one saw or heard
the dark form of their returned master pass slowly through the hall. No
one saw him enter his former sleeping apartments. He was so conversant
with the room that he found his way in the dark without difficulty to
his secretary. Taking from it a candle and some matches, he soon had