twilight, appeared to her horrible and treacherous. The river seemed to
flow sluggishly, as though thickened with blood and tears. The shadow of
the trees seemed to hold lurking shapes of cruelty and danger. Even the
whispering breeze bore with it sighs, and threats, and mutterings of
revenge. Oppressed by a terror of loneliness, she hastily caught up the
manuscript, and turned to seek the house, when, as if summoned from the
earth by the power of her own fears, a ragged figure barred her passage.

To the excited girl this apparition seemed the embodiment of the unknown
evil she had dreaded. She recognized the yellow clothing, and marked the
eager hands outstretched to seize her. Instantly upon her flashed the
story that three days since had set the prison-town agog. The desperado
of Port Arthur, the escaped mutineer and murderer, was before her, with
unchained arms, free to wreak his will of her.

"Sylvia! It is you! Oh, at last! I have escaped, and come to ask--What?
Do you not know me?"

Pressing both hands to her bosom, she stepped back a pace, speechless
with terror.

"I am Rufus Dawes," he said, looking in her face for the grateful smile
of recognition that did not come--"Rufus Dawes."

The party at the house had finished their wine, and, sitting on the
broad verandah, were listening to some gentle dullness of the clergyman,
when there broke upon their ears a cry.

"What's that?" said Vickers.

Frere sprang up, and looked down the garden. He saw two figures that
seemed to struggle together. One glance was enough, and, with a shout,
he leapt the flower-beds, and made straight at the escaped prisoner.

Rufus Dawes saw him coming, but, secure in the protection of the girl
who owed to him so much, he advanced a step nearer, and loosing his
respectful clasp of her hand, caught her dress.

"Oh, help, Maurice, help!" cried Sylvia again.

Into the face of Rufus Dawes came an expression of horror-stricken
bewilderment. For three days the unhappy man had contrived to keep life
and freedom, in order to get speech with the one being who, he thought,
cherished for him some affection. Having made an unparalleled escape
from the midst of his warders, he had crept to the place where lived the
idol of his dreams, braving recapture, that he might hear from her two
words of justice and gratitude. Not only did she refuse to listen to
him, and shrink from him as from one accursed, but, at the sound of
his name, she summon