. In such a case one man
was sometimes as good as another. It was impossible to say what she
might not do or be induced to do, if full advantage were taken of a
moment so exceptional. Fifty thousand pounds! And her fresh young
beauty! What an opening it was! The way lay far from clear, the means
were to find; but faint heart never won fair lady, and Mr. Thomasson had
known strange things come to pass.

He was quick to choose his part. 'Come, child,' he said, assuming a kind
of paternal authority. 'At least we must find a roof. We cannot spend
the night here.'

'No,' she said dully, 'I suppose not.'

'So--shall we go this way?'

'As you please,' she answered.

They started, but had not moved far along the miry road before she spoke
again. 'Do you know,' she asked drearily, 'why they set us down?'

He was puzzled himself as to that, but, 'They may have thought that the
pursuit was gaining on them,' he answered, 'and become alarmed.' Which
was in part the truth; though Mr. Dunborough's failure to appear at the
rendezvous had been the main factor in determining the men.

'Pursuit?' she said. 'Who would pursue us?'

'Mr. Fishwick,' he suggested.

'Ah!' she answered bitterly; 'he might. If I had listened to him! If I
had--but it is over now.'

'I wish we could see a light,' Mr. Thomasson said, anxiously looking
into the darkness, 'or a house of any kind. I wonder where we are.' She
did not speak.

'I do not know--even what time it is,' he continued pettishly; and he
shivered. 'Take care!' She had stumbled and nearly fallen. 'Will you be
pleased to take my arm, and we shall be able to proceed more quickly. I
am afraid that your feet are wet.'

Absorbed in her thoughts she did not answer.

'However the ground is rising,' he said. 'By-and-by it will be drier
under foot.'

They were an odd couple to be trudging a strange road, in an unknown
country, at the dark hour of the night. The stars must have twinkled to
see them. Mr. Thomasson began to own the influence of solitude, and
longed to pat the hand she had passed through his arm--it was the sort
of caress that came natural to him; but for the time discretion withheld
him. He had another temptation: to refer to the past, to the old past at
the College, to the part he had taken at the inn, to make some sort of
apology; but again discretion intervened, and he went on in silence.

As he had said, the ground was rising; but the outlook was cheerless
enough, until