of her life. Wearily and
impatiently she paced up and down the long saloon, watching the hands of
the clock as they appeared to almost creep over the dial-plate. Twenty
times during those three hours did she compare the clock with her watch,
and found they moved on unvaryingly together.

At last the hour for the departure of the train arrived; and seated in the
car, she was soon flying at express speed on the way towards her home. "How
much sooner does the other train arrive than we?" she asked of the
conductor.

"Two hours and a half, miss," replied he, courteously; "we gain a half-hour
upon them."

"A half-hour--that is something gained," thought she; "I may reach my
father before that man. Can he be what I suspect?"

On they went--thirty--forty--fifty miles an hour, yet she thought it slow.
Dashing by villages, through meadows, over bridges,--rattling, screaming,
puffing, on their way to the city of New York. In due time they arrived at
the ferry, and after crossing the river were in the city itself. Lizzie
took the first carriage that came to hand, and was soon going briskly
through the streets towards her father's house. The nearer she approached
it, the greater grew her fears; a horrible presentiment that something
awful had occurred, grew stronger and stronger as she drew nearer home. She
tried to brave it off--resist it--crush it--but it came back upon her each
time with redoubled force.

On she went, nearer and nearer every moment, until at last she was in the
avenue itself. She gazed eagerly from the carriage, and thought she
observed one or two persons run across the street opposite her father's
house. It could not be!--she looked again--yes, there was a group beneath
his window. "Faster! faster!" she cried frantically; "faster if you can."
The door was at last reached; she sprang from the carriage and pressed
through the little knot of people who were gathered on the pavement. Alas!
her presentiments were correct. There, lying on the pavement, was the
mangled form of her father, who had desperately sprung from the balcony
above, to escape arrest from the man with the keen grey eyes, who, with the
warrant in his hand, stood contemplating the lifeless body.

"Father! father!" cried Lizzie, in an anguished voice; "father, speak
once!" Too late! too late! the spirit had passed away--the murderer had
rushed before a higher tribunal--a mightier Judge--into the presence of One
who tempers justice with mercy.