the train rushed out of London, and the
grimy environs of the metropolis gradually gave place to green fields,
she endeavoured to compose her mind and collect her thoughts for her
coming interview with the daughter of the murdered man. But her mind was
in such a distraught condition that she could think of no plan but to
sacrifice herself in order to save her husband. With cold hands pressed
against her hot forehead, she muttered again and again, as if offering up
an invocation that gained force by repetition:

"I must save him. I will tell her everything."

The train ran into Horleydene shortly after two, and Mrs. Holymead was
the only passenger who alighted at the lonely little wayside station
which stood in a small wood in a solitude as profound as though it had
been in the American prairie, instead of the heart of an English
county. The only sign of life was a dilapidated vehicle with an
elderly man in charge, which stood outside the station yard all day
waiting for chance visitors.

"Cab, ma'am?" exclaimed the driver of this vehicle in an ingratiating
voice, touching his hat.

"No, thank you," replied Mrs. Holymead. "I'll walk."

Miss Fewbanks was astonished when the parlourmaid announced the arrival
of Mrs. Holymead. She hurried to the drawing-room to meet her visitor,
but the warm greeting she offered her was checked by her astonishment at
the ill and worn appearance of her beautiful friend.

"Please, don't," said the visitor, as she held up a warning hand to keep
away a sisterly kiss. She looked at Miss Fewbanks with the air of a woman
nerving herself for a desperate task, and said quickly: "I have dreadful
things to tell you. You can never think of me again except with
loathing--with horror."

The impression Miss Fewbanks received was that her visitor had taken
leave of her senses. This impression was deepened by Mrs. Holymead's
next remark.

"I want you to save my husband."

There was an awkward pause while Mrs. Holymead waited for a reply and
Miss Fewbanks wondered what was the best thing to do.

"Say you will save him!" exclaimed Mrs. Holymead. "Do what you like with
me, but save him."

"Don't you think, dear, you would be better if you had a rest and a
little sleep?" said Miss Fewbanks. "I am sure you could sleep if you
tried. Come upstairs and I'll make you so comfortable."

"You think I am mad," said the elder woman. "Would to God that I was."

"Come, dear," said Miss Fewbanks coaxingly.