y be
reached."

"A letter to the Mitre coffee-house will be delivered," he said.

"You shall receive it," I answered. "And now I bid you good-by, and
thank you."

He seized and held my hand. Then walked blindly to the door and turned
abruptly.

"I do not tell you that I shall change my life, Richard, for I have said
that too many times before. Indeed, I warn you that any money you may
send will be spent in drink, and--and worse. I will be no hypocrite to
you. But I believe that I am better this hour than I have been since
last I knelt at my mother's knee in the little Oxfordshire cottage where
I was born."

When Dorothy returned to me, there was neither haste in her step nor
excitement in her voice. Her very coolness inspired me.

"Do you feel strong enough for a journey, Richard?" she asked.

"To the world's end, Dolly, if you will but go with me."

She smiled faintly. "I have sent off for my Lord and Mr. Fox, and pray
that one of them may be here presently."

Scarcely greater were the visible signs of apprehension upon Mrs.
Manners. Her first care, and Dorothy's, was to catechise me most
particularly on my state. And whilst they were so occupied Mr. Marmaduke
entered, wholly frenzied from fright, and utterly oblivious to his own
blame in the matter. He was sent out again directly. After that, with
Aunt Lucy to assist, they hurriedly packed what few things might be
taken. The costly relics of Arlington Street were untouched, and the
French clock was left on the mantel to tick all the night, and for days
to come, in a silent and forsaken room; or perhaps to greet impassively
the King's officers when they broke in at the door. But I caught my lady
in the act of wrapping up the Wedgwood cups and dishes.

In the midst of these preparations Mr. Fox was heard without, and was met
at the door by Dorothy. Two sentences sufficed her to tell him what had
occurred, and two seconds for this man of action to make his decision.

"In an hour you shall have travelling chaises here, Dorothy," he said.
"You must go to Portsmouth, and take ship for Lisbon. And if Jack does
not arrive, I will go with you."

"No, Charles, you must not!" she cried, her emotion conquering her for
the nonce. "That might be to ruin your career, and perchance to lose
your life. And suppose we were to escape, what would they say of you!"

"Fish!" Charles retorted, to hide some feelings of his own; "once our
rebel is out of the country, they may s