cuick in conciliatory tones, though I have knowingly done nothing If it seems strange that I have not visited you, mere physical inability to do so must be my excuse.

to arouse your anger.

my son to explain to you-

I sent

'Ralph Pennicuick,' interrupted Mrs. Conway hoarsely, 'I am come here to know the truth.'

The truth, my dear madam?'

'Yes, the truth about my husband.'

Pennicuick's swarthy face, pale with fear and hate and care, quailed before her searching glance, but he answered calmly enough :

'What Raymond has told you he heard from my own lips. I can only repeat——'

That is why I disbelieve it,' broke in the other vehemently. It is your lips that I mistrust, because they are used to lying. Did they not lie to him when he was alive? What, do you suppose I have forgotten when your Raymond was but a few months old, and I a second mother to him, and my husband your best friend, how you set all those sacred ties at naught, and dared to offer me your love?'

'That was a long time ago, my dear madam,' answered Pennicuick, with a harsh laugh.

'It was so, but I have not forgotten it. The nature of the man who could so outrage friendship and the memory of the dead has never altered; now as then, there is no sacrifice of others—even of your own son-which you would hesitate to make, to gratify one selfish pleasure.'

'You are severe, madam; I admit that you were a very dragon of virtue, and I--well, anything you please-but there is a statute of limitations for offences committed a lifetime ago, and as in this case nothing came of it

That is false! Everything came of it. It cost me my husband's love."

'You never told him?'

'No, or you would not have been alive to ask the question, but the horror (the cause of which I might not tell) with which I saw his friendship for you, bred quarrels between us, and, thanks to you, the breach grew so wide that love could not recross it. It was you that separated us and you that kept us asunder.'

'Indeed, madam, you overrate my influence. Of course I was not pleased at the contempt-merited, I will confess-with which you treated my devotion; but as to your domestic differences, I think they can be otherwise accounted for.'

'I was to blame,' said Mrs. Conway gravely; 'I was much to

blame; though, if you had not come between us, matters would not have been so bad. I was hard and bitter and cold, though Heaven knows that through it all I loved him. I read your sneer, "You hid it well, madam," but it is true, and you shall find it so. If I proved it not while he lived, I will prove it now. If he never knew it in this world, he shall know it in heaven, if spirits have any cognisance of things on earth. I will devote myself henceforth to redress his wrongs.'

'Your grief has weakened your judgment, Mrs. Conway,' observed Ralph Pennicuick quietly. That your husband has met with a most cruel fate is true-so cruel, that, to spare you, I have sealed my lips concerning it.'

6

'I spoke of wrongs, broke in the other harshly; falsehood, where we have a right to look for truth; treachery, where loyalty should be; betrayal of trust-ah, you have betrayed him!'

Her words, swift as lightning, seemed to blast their object; Ralph Pennicuick literally shrank before them and grew deadly pale, though he still faced the speaker with his eyes, the expression of which was firm and venomous.

'Who says I have betrayed him?' inquired he hoarsely.

"Your face,' answered she quietly, which speaks truth, and gives the lie to your tongue. I was sure it was so all along, but now I am doubly sure.'

Her passion was frightful to witness; her large frame trembled and quivered; her face was purple; her eyes, always prominent, seemed to leap at him from their sockets.

6

'Do you suppose,' she went on, that I was deceived by your lying telegram? that I did not know Arthur Conway better than to believe him capable of the offence you imputed to him? He was not one to defile temples and break down images: or to risk, for a mere whim, a life that was precious to another. You alone, Ralph Pennicuick, were with him; you alone know how and why he met his death.'

"You know all that I know, madam,' answered Pennicuick sullenly. I was in Shanghae, doing my best to save him, when he perished. The matter does not rest upon my testimony: two English officers accompanied me to the scene of his execution.'

Is that the way an innocent man defends himself?' cried Mrs. Conway. ""If you don't believe me, there are two others—credible witnesses." Every word you speak is a confession of your guilt.'

'I do not understand you, madam,' said Pennicuick.

Then I will speak plainer. I see there has been foul play. I suspect the worst of you. He never committed the offence for which he suffered. It was you who committed it. What, what!

have I found you out? Murderer, murderer!' She threw She threw up her hands and fell forward on the floor with a heavy thud.

Pennicuick did not move; it seemed as though her last words had turned him into stone; he stood and stared at the prostrate woman without an effort to assist her, without an attempt to summon others to her assistance, though he was dimly aware of the presence of Hatton on the other side of the door.

Mrs. Conway's voice had been raised loud enough to summon him from a much greater distance than the servants' room he occupied, and most persons would have answered a cry which must have sounded very like 'Murder!' but Mr. Hatton's characteristic was discretion.

At last, seeing that his visitor still lay without motion at his feet, Ralph Pennicuick, moved by a new terror, pulled the bell-rope furiously, which at once summoned the valet.

6

Something has happened to Mrs. Conway; an apoplectic fit as I should imagine; send the porter for Dr. Green, and return to me immediately.'

His mind had recovered from the rude shock of Mrs. Conway's vehement accusation, and was getting into its usual excellent working order. At the same time he felt like one in front of a battery that has got the range,' and whose only hope lies in its ammunition being exhausted. If Mrs. Conway had drawn her last breath he would be safe, but otherwise the rancour of her tongue would pursue him everywhere. The shaft she had shot at a venture appeared to him to have had a definite aim; for though, in her hate and rage, her suspicions had far outstripped the truth, there had been moments when he had actually accused himself of his friend's death, and the word 'murderer' had scarcely seemed misplaced to him. It was no time for such morbid and remorseful feelings now; it behoved him to stand upon his guard against a charge, less serious indeed, but by no means fanciful or groundless. This woman, lying dead or alive before him, had seized the very weapon used by his conscience, the barb of which he was ever striving to pluck out from his own bosom. She had called him Betrayer of Trust; it was true there was no proof of that, nor ever would be; but the knowledge that another person beside himself had become possessed of this fact-though it was only by intuition-would be intolerable.

To know oneself to be a scoundrel is one of the bitterest fruits of the tree of knowledge, yet not so bitter as to know another knows it, and another' in this case Ralph Pennicuick felt but too sure meant all who had a right to know it. Reckless of consequences, as deaf to menace as to reason, this woman would proclaim his

infamy upon the housetops, and as confidently as though she possessed the proofs of it, as long as she lived. But would she live even to repeat her accusation once? He leant over the prostrate body and regarded it attentively, taking care, however, not to disturb a limb. He foresaw that, if matters were as he hoped, there must be an inquest; and though to no mortal eye could he seem to have any interest in the woman's death, yet it was well to be on the safe side. It struck him that it might have been better perhaps, if it were apoplexy, to raise her head, but he let it lie (the purple face staring upwards with apathetic eyes); not that he wished to kill her (though he wished her dead), but simply that none should say he had had any hand in the matter.

She lay quite still, nor, so far from the stertorous breathing that he had understood took place under such circumstances, could he discern she breathed at all. It was indeed a sorry sight, and had he been quite sure that all was over, it might have aroused his pity. The contrast between what lay before him and the recollection of what she had been years ago, when he had thought it worth while to have run risks to win her, might in that case have struck him; but, as it was, the desire of self-preservation overpowered all other feelings and obliterated them. He kept his place, like a sentinel on guard, till his valet reappeared. This is a sad business, Hatton,' said he. I am afraid of doing anything till the doctor comes for fear it should do more harm than good.' That is the safest plan, sir. I noticed the poor lady was very excited when I let her in-or rather, when she let herself infor she would take no denial.'

6

'It was natural that she should wish to see me,' answered the other quietly.

Then master and man both stood on guard-revolving their own thoughts-till the doctor came, who, stooping down, busied himself for a few seconds with his lancet, and then rose, shaking his head in the manner with which we are most of us, alas! acquainted, and which thus appeared in the reports of certain subsequent proceedings, Dr. Green at once pronounced life to be extinct.' This gentleman was an eminent physician living hard by in Piccadilly, and professionally known to Mr. Pennicuick.

'How did this sad business come about?' inquired he.

It was from intense excitement I believe, doctor. It is Mrs. Conway, wife of the poor fellow who was killed when travelling with me in China, and she came here insisting upon having the whole particulars. I had avoided her for that very reason-for they were of a nature to shock any woman; but she compelled me to be explicit, and this, alas! is the result.'

'I am not surprised at it,' answered the doctor gravely. "There was a strong predisposition to apoplexy, no doubt, and any sudden shock, especially if she was excited, must have been dangerous to her.'

'She was intensely excited,' reiterated Pennicuick; 'Hatton there remarked it even before she entered the room. When I spoke of what had happened to her husband, she cried out, speaking of the Chinese who had put him so barbarously to death, "Murderers murderers!" and then fell down upon the floor just as you found her.'

I heard the lady cry out them very words,' put in Hatton respectfully.

'The whole affair is clear as daylight,' observed Dr. Green; but it will be necessary to inform the coroner. I am very sorry to inconvenience you,' he added, seeing the clouds gather on Pennicuick's face, but an inquest is indispensable.'

'Do not speak of inconvenience, doctor. I will go to some hotel for the present-perhaps Hatchett's.'

'There is no reason why the poor lady should not be taken

home.'

There is only a daughter left; the shock would be too terrible. No, it had better remain here. Let everything be done, Hatton, that should be done."

6

And about Miss Conway, sir? had not Mr. Raymond better be communicated with?'

6

'Why?' The question was short and sharp; but immediately his voice altered to a gentler tone. Yes, you are right; I will go to him myself, and he will arrange matters, at least if I can be spared,' continued he, looking inquiringly at the doctor.

You can be of no sort of use here,' answered that gentleman. 'If you take my advice, you will at once remove to Hatchett's. Town is very full, and the sooner you secure rooms--and especially the sooner you leave these rooms-the better.'

Ralph Pennicuick took the hint and his hat, and left at once. 'Your master is not looking well,' said the doctor to the valet. 'He is far from well, sir; he has been very nervous and out of sorts ever since he came home from China. Captain Conway's death has shaken him a great deal, I think.'

Ah! And this is not a nice sort of thing to happen to a man in his state. You must stay here, and I will send some people to look after matters.'

Mr. Hatton did not care to stay by himself where he was, but followed the doctor out, and remained outside the door of the apartment until the 'people' alluded to arrived. The whole