r the weather. Looking round the room she saw a morsel
of wadding near the floor, and she instantly burned it. She longed
to look at the pistol, but she did not dare to take it from its
hiding-place lest she should be discovered in the act. Every energy
of her mind was now strained to the effort of avoiding detection.
Should he choose to tell what had been done, then, indeed, all would
be over. But had he not resolved to be silent he would hardly have
borne the agony of the wound and gone up-stairs without speaking
of it. She almost forgot now the misery of the last year in the
intensity of her desire to escape the disgrace of punishment. A
sudden nervousness, a desire to do something by which she might help
to preserve herself, seized upon her. But there was nothing which she
could do. She could not follow him lest he should accuse her to her
face. It would be vain for her to leave the house till he should have
gone. Should she do so, she knew that she would not dare return to
it. So she sat, thinking, dreaming, plotting, crushed by an agony of
fear, looking anxiously at the door, listening for every footfall
within the house; and she watched too for the well-known click of
the area gate, dreading lest any one should go out to seek the
intervention of the constables.

In the meantime Daniel Thwaite had gone up-stairs, and had knocked at
the drawing-room door. It was instantly opened by Lady Anna herself.
"I heard you come;--what a time you have been here!--I thought that
I should never see you." As she spoke she stood close to him that he
might embrace her. But the pain of his wound affected his whole body,
and he felt that he could hardly raise even his right arm. He was
aware now that the bullet had entered his back, somewhere on his left
shoulder. "Oh, Daniel;--are you ill?" she said, looking at him.

"Yes, dear;--I am ill;--not very ill. Did you hear nothing?"

"No!"

"Nor yet see anything?"

"No!"

"I will tell you all another time;--only do not ask me now." She had
seated herself beside him and wound her arm round his back as though
to support him. "You must not touch me, dearest."

"You have been hurt."

"Yes;--I have been hurt. I am in pain, though I do not think that it
signifies. I had better go to a surgeon, and then you shall hear from
me."

"Tell me, Daniel;--what is it, Daniel?"

"I will tell you,--but not now. You shall know all, but I
should do harm were I to say it now. Say not a word to