r Coristine's fatal shot, these would have been carried away. On
their return, Doctor Halbert said, after consulting Mr. Bang's paper:
"He took his life the very hour Matilda exclaimed 'Free at last.' The
neighbourhood and the whole country may breathe more freely now that he
is gone. Your poor friend upstairs, John, has not died in vain."

"But he's not dead, Halbert!" almost sobbed the Squire.

"Not yet," replied the doctor, gravely.

Coristine had survived the thunderstorm and the finding of Rawdon's
remains; and, now that all sympathy in the latter was forfeited, many a
one would gladly have gone to the sinking man who fired the shot to tell
him, in his own vernacular, that Grinstuns had ceased from troubling.
But few dared intrude upon the stillness of his chamber, from the door
of which Marjorie had to be carried bodily away. The villain dead, the
treasure and papers recovered, Matilda Nagle in her right mind,
confidence was restored in Bridesdale, and only one absorbing thought
filled all minds. Yet, while the colonel shared his cigar case with Mr.
Douglas, and Mr. Terry smoked his dudeen, Mr. Bangs wrote to Toronto an
account of the escaped prisoner's death, Miss Du Plessis resigned her
type writership to Messrs. Tylor, Woodruff, and White, Mr. Wilkinson
sent in to the Board of School Trustees his resignation of the
Sacheverell Street School, and the Squire, on behalf of his niece,
signified that her position in the same was vacant, and informed the
legal firm of the serious illness of their junior partner. The clergymen
returned to their lodgings and their duties, and the constable, having
no living criminal to watch over, relieved Timotheus and Ben Toner of
their care of the dead. Maguffin had summoned Messrs. Newberry, Pawkins,
and Johnson for the coroner's jury in the morning, and no excitement was
left at Bridesdale. When night came, all retired to rest, except the one
watcher by the bedside of despair. Early in the morning, when the sun
began to shine upon the night dews and peep through the casements, a tap
came to the dominie's door. He was awake, he had not even undressed,
and, therefore, answered it at once. He knew the pale figure in the
dressing gown. "Put on your pedestrian suit," she said with eagerness,
"and bring your knapsack with you as quickly as possible." He put it on,
although the arms of coat and shirt were ripped up for former surgical
reasons, and he objected to the blood marks on the s