re--but, if we are overtaken, I will have
no more fighting--you must promise me that we shall not--we have had
but too much of that--but you will be wise in future."

"Clara Mowbray!" exclaimed Tyrrel. "Alas! is it thus?--Stay--do not go,"
for she turned to make her escape--"stay--stay--sit down."

"I must go," she replied, "I must go--I am called--Hannah Irwin is gone
before to tell all, and I must follow. Will you not let me go?--Nay, if
you will hold me by force, I know I must sit down--but you will not be
able to keep me for all that."

A convulsion fit followed, and seemed, by its violence, to explain that
she was indeed bound for the last and darksome journey. The maid, who at
length answered Tyrrel's earnest and repeated summons, fled terrified at
the scene she witnessed, and carried to the Manse the alarm which we
before mentioned.

The old landlady was compelled to exchange one scene of sorrow for
another, wondering within herself what fatality could have marked this
single night with so much misery. When she arrived at home, what was her
astonishment to find there the daughter of the house, which, even in
their alienation, she had never ceased to love, in a state little short
of distraction, and tended by Tyrrel, whose state of mind seemed scarce
more composed than that of the unhappy patient. The oddities of Mrs.
Dods were merely the rust which had accumulated upon her character, but
without impairing its native strength and energy; and her sympathies
were not of a kind acute enough to disable her from thinking and acting
as decisively as circumstances required.

"Mr. Tyrrel," she said, "this is nae sight for men folk--ye maun rise
and gang to another room."

"I will not stir from her," said Tyrrel--"I will not remove from her
either now, or as long as she or I may live."

"That will be nae lang space, Maister Tyrrel, if ye winna be ruled by
common sense."

Tyrrel started up, as if half comprehending what she said, but remained
motionless.

"Come, come," said the compassionate landlady; "do not stand looking on
a sight sair enough to break a harder heart than yours, hinny--your ain
sense tells ye, ye canna stay here--Miss Clara shall be weel cared for,
and I'll bring word to your room-door frae half-hour to half-hour how
she is."

The necessity of the case was undeniable, and Tyrrel suffered himself to
be led to another apartment, leaving Miss Mowbray to the care of the
hostess and her female ass