too? As the representative of an illustrious family I was taken with him, but as a man-I must shun him."

"How can you shun him? "Nevertheless I won't stay.

me after what I have learnt.

You have married him!"

Neither law nor gospel demands it of And if law and gospel did demand it, I would not stay. And if you will not help me to escape, I go alone." "You had better not try any such wild thing."

The creaking of a door was heard. "Oh, Sol," she said, appealingly, "don't go into the question whether I am right or wrong-only remember that I am very unhappy. Do help me I have no other person in the world to ask! Be under the balcony at six o'clock. Say you willI must go say you will!"

"I'll think," said Sol, very much disturbed. "There, don't cry; I'll try to be under the balcony, at any rate. I cannot promise more, but I'll try to be there."

She opened in the panelling one of the old-fashioned concealed modes of exit known as jib-doors, which it was once the custom to construct without architraves in the walls of large apartments, so as not to interfere with the general design of the room. Sol found himself in a narrow passage, running down the whole length of the ball-room, and at the same time he heard Lord Mountclere's voice within, arguing with Ethelberta. His escape must have been marvellous as it was the viscount might have seen her tears. He passed down some steps, along an area from which he could see into a row of servants' offices, among them a kitchen with a fireplace flaming like an altar of sacrifice. Nobody seemed to be concerned about him; there were workmen upon the premises, and be nearly matched them. At last he got again into the shrubberies, and to the side of the park by which he had entered.

On reaching Coomb he found Picotee in the parlour of the little inn, as he had directed. Mr. Julian, she said, had walked up to the ruins, and would be back again in a few minutes. Sol ordered the horse to be put in, and by the time it was ready Christopher came down from the hill. Room was made for Sol by opening the flap of the dogcart, and Christopher drove on.

He was anxious to know the trouble, and Sol was not reluctant to share the burden of it with one whom he believed to be a friend. He told, scrap by scrap, the strange request of Ethelberta. Christopher, though ignorant of Ethelberta's experience that morning, instantly assumed that the discovery of some concealed spectre had led to this precipitancy.

"When does she wish you to meet her with the carriage?"

"Probably at half-past seven, at the west lodge; but that is to be finally fixed by a note she will hand down to me from the balcony." "Which balcony?"

"The nearest to the yew-tree."

"At what time will she hand the note?"

"As the court clock strikes six, she says. And if I am not there to take her instructions of course she will give up the idea, which is just what I want her to do."

Christopher begged Sol to go. Whether Ethelberta was right or wrong, he did not stop to inquire. She was in trouble; she was too clear-headed to be in trouble without good reason; and she wanted assistance out of it. But such was Sol's nature that the more he reflected the more determined was he in not giving way to her entreaty. By the time that they reached Anglebury he repented having given way so far as to withhold a direct refusal.

"It can do no good," he said, mournfully. "It is better to nip her notion in its beginning. She says she wants to fly to Rouen, and from there arrange terms with him. But it can't be done-she should have thought of terms before."

Christopher made no further reply. Leaving word at the Old Fox that a man was to be sent to take the horse of him, he drove directly onwards to the station.

"Then you don't mean to help her?" said Julian, when Sol took the tickets one for himself, and one for Picotee.

"I serve her best by leaving her alone," said Sol.

"I don't think so."

"She has married him."

"She is in distress."

"She has married him."

Sol and Picotee took their seats, Picotee upbraiding her brother. "I can go by myself!" she said, in tears, "Do go back for Berta, Sol. She said I was to go home alone, and I can do it."

"You must not. It is not right for you to be hiring cabs and driving across London at midnight. Bertie should have known better

"Have you got your ticket, Mr. Julian?" said Sol. "I suppose we shall go together till we get near Melchester?"

"I have not got my ticket yet-I'll be back in two minutes."

The minutes went by, and Christopher did not reappear. The train moved off: Christopher was seen running up the platform, as if in a vain hope to catch it.

"He has missed the train," said Sol. Picotee looked disappointed, and said nothing. They were soon out of sight.

"God forgive me for such a hollow pretenee!" said Christopher to himself. "But he would have been uneasy had he known I wished to stay behind. I cannot leave her in trouble like this!"

He went back to the Old Fox with the manner and movement of a man who after a lifetime of desultoriness had at last found something to lo. It was now getting late in the afternoon. Christopher ordered s

one-horse brougham at the inn, and entering it was driven out of the town towards Lychworth as the evening shades were beginning to fall. They passed into the village of Lower Lychworth at half-past five, and drew up at a beer-house at the end. Jumping out here, Julian told the man to wait till he should return.

Thus far he had exactly obeyed her orders to Sol. He hoped to be able to obey them throughout, and supply her with the aid her brother refused. He also hoped that the change in the personality of her confederate would make no difference to her intention.

That he was

putting himself in a wrong position he allowed, but time and attention were requisite for such analyses: meanwhile Ethelberta was in trouble. On the one hand, there was she waiting hopefully for Sol; on the other, there was Sol many miles on his way to town; between them was himself.

He ran with all his might towards Lychworth Park, mounted the lofty stone steps by the lodge, saw the dark bronze figures on the piers through the twilight, and then proceeded to thread the trees. Among these he struck a light for a moment: it was ten minutes to six. In another five minutes he was panting beneath the walls of her house.

Lychworth Court was not unknown to Christopher, for he had frequently explored that spot in his Sandbourne days. He perceived now why she had selected that particular balcony for handing down directions it was the only one round the house that was low enough to be reached from the outside, the basement here being a little way sunk in the ground.

Thus he waited. About a foot over his head was the stone floor of the balcony, forming a ceiling to his position. At his back, two or three feet behind, was a blank wall-the wall of the house. In front of him was the misty park, crowned by a sky sparkling with winter stars. This was abruptly cut off upward by the dark edge of the balcony which overhung him.

It was as if some person within the room above had been awaiting his approach. He had scarcely found time to observe his situation when a human hand and portion of a bare arm were thrust between the balusters, descended a little way from the edge of the balcony, and remained hanging across the starlit sky. Something was between the fingers. Christopher lifted his hand, took the scrap, which was paper, and the arm was withdrawn. As it withdrew, a jewel on one of the fingers sparkled in the rays of a large planet that rode in the opposite sky.

Light steps retreated from the balcony, and a window closed. Christopher had almost held his breath lest Ethelberta should discover him at the critical moment to be other than Sol, and mar her deliverance by her alarm. The still silence was anything but silence to him; he felt as if he had been listening to the clanging chorus of an oratorio. And then he could fancy he heard words between Ethelberta and the viscount within the room; they were evidently at very close quarters, and

dexterity had been required. He went on tip-toe across the gravel to the grass, and once on that he strode in the direction whence he had come. By the thick trunk of one of a group of aged trees he stopped to get a light, just as the court-clock struck six in loud long clangs. The transaction had been carried out, through her impatience possibly, four or five minutes before the time appointed.

The note contained, in a shaken hand, in which, however, the wellknown characters were distinguishable, these words in pencil :

"At half-past seven o'clock. Just outside the north lodge; don't fail."

This was the time she had suggested to Sol as that which would probably best suit her escape, if she could escape at all. She had changed the place from the west to the north lodge-nothing else. The latter was certainly more secluded, though a trifle more remote from the course of the proposed journey; there was just time enough and none to spare for fetching the brougham from Lower Lychworth to the lodge, the village being two miles off. The few minutes gained by her readiness at the balcony were useful now. He started at once for the village, diverging somewhat to observe the spot appointed for the meeting. It was excellently chosen; the gate appeared to be little used, the lane outside it was covered with trees, and all around was silent as the grave. After this hasty survey by the wan starlight, he hastened on to Lower Lychworth.

An hour and a quarter later a little brougham without lamps was creeping along by the park wall towards this spot. The leaves were so thick upon the unfrequented road that the wheels could not be heard, and the horse's pacing made scarcely more noise than a rabbit would have done in limping along. The vehicle progressed slowly, for they were in good time. About ten yards from the park entrance it stopped, and Christopher stepped out.

"We may have to wait here ten minutes," he said to the driver. "And then shall we able to reach Anglebury in time for the up-mail train to Southampton?"

66

'Half-past seven, half-past eight, half-past nine-two hours. Oh yes, sir, easily. A young lady in the case perhaps, sir?"

"Yes."

"Well, I hope she'll be done honestly by, even if she is of humble station. 'Tis best, and cheapest too, in the long run." The coachman was apparently imagining the dove about to flit away to be one of the pretty maid-servants that abounded in Lychworth Court; such escapades as f these were not infrequent among them, a fair face having been deemed s sufficient recommendation, without too close an inquiry into character, since the death of the first viscountess.

"Now then, silence; and listen for a footstep at the gate."

Such calmness as there was in the musician's voice had been produced by considerable effort. For his heart had begun to beat fast and loud s

he strained his attentive ear to catch the footfall of a woman who could never be his.

The obscurity was as great as a starry sky would permit it to be. Beneath the trees where the carriage stood the darkness was total.

CHAPTER XLIX.

LYCHWORTH AND ITS PRECINCTS.—MELCHESTER.

To be wise after the event is often to act foolishly with regard to it; and to preserve the illusion which has led to the event would frequently be a course that omniscience itself could not find fault with. Reaction with Ethelberta was complete, and the more violent in that it threatened to be useless. Sol's bitter chiding had been the first thing to discompose her fortitude. It reduced her to a consciousness that she had allowed herself to be coerced in her instincts without triumphing in her duty. She might have pleased her family better by pleasing her tastes, and have entirely avoided the grim irony of the situation disclosed later in the day.

After the second interview with Sol she was to some extent composed in mind by being able to nurse a definite intention. As momentum causes the narrowest wheel to stand upright, the poorest scheme, fairly launched, will give power to maintain a position stoically.

In the temporary absence of Lord Mountclere, about six o'clock, she slipped out upon the balcony and handed down a note. The bour and a half wanting to half-past seven she passed with great effort. The greater part of the time was occupied by dinner, during which she attempted to devise some scheme for leaving him without suspicion just before the appointed moment. Happily, and as if by a Providence, there was no necessity for any such thing. A little while before the half-hour, when she moved to rise from dinner, he also arose, begging her to excuse him for a few minutes, that he might go and write an important note to his lawyer, until that moment forgotten, though the postman was nearly due. She heard him retire along the corridor and shut himself into his study, his promised time of return being a quarter of an hour thence.

Five minutes after that memorable parting Ethelberta came from the little door by the bush of yew, well and thickly wrapped up from head to heels. She skimmed across the park and under the boughs like a shade, mounting then the stone steps for pedestrians which were fixed beside the park gates here, as at all the lodges. Outside and below her she saw an oblong shape-it was a brougham, and it had been drawn forward close to the bottom of the steps that she might not have an inch further to go on foot than to this barrier. The whole precinct was overhung with trees; half their foliage being over head, the other half under foot, for the gardeners had not yet begun to rake and collect the leaves; thus it was that her dress rustled as she descended the steps.