had suddenly whitened, the scared wild look came back to his eyes.

He turned to the policeman, devoutly hoping that proof enough to imprison the strange woman for life would be speedily produced.

"I agree with you. It is a very suspicious case. I think you had better take her away. I will come round to the station by-and-by to learn the result."

Genevieve uttered a sorrowful exclamation. Mrs. Merton smiled triumphantly. At that moment a servant came in with a card for his master.

"A gentleman who appears very anxious to see you, sir."

Richard Merton unconsciously read the name aloud as he took the card, "The Rev. Mr. Pomfret, from America."

At the same instant the door was pushed open. The eager visitor had followed behind the servant.

"I beg pardon, but it occurred to me that you might not recall that name," said the consequential, brisk little man, sprucely dressed in the finest broadcloth, as he hurried up to Mr. Merton.

"How do you do, sir? Ah, I thought you wouldn't know. Pomfret's the name I took, sir. I'm Maclean-the man you sent to that nice situation in America! I'm sure I'm grateful enough, sir. It's been the making of me."

"I'll see you in the library, sir. I'll come there directly," stammered Mr. Richard, the cold sweat starting out from his forehead.

"O, yes sir, yes sir; I knew you'd be glad to know how well I've got along. I'm just going to see how old Scotland looks. I haven't been home all these years," talked the voluble American minister, across the threshold.

The Honorable Richard fairly pushed him out, and, to stop his incessant chattering, followed him, and closed the door.

The ears beneath the green calash had not been inattentive. Old Moll suddenly wheeled around, and faced Mrs. Richard.

"The Lord maketh the ways of the wicked to turn to his praise, madam. Old Moll thanks you! You have done her the best service she could have asked of you. Policeman, lead on; I'm ready."

As she passed the distressed and agitated Genevieve, she lifted up her wrinkled swarthy hands in blessing.

Up to this moment Philip Leigh had spoken no single word. He strode forward

now.

"Miss Genevieve, have no fear for your poor old friend," said he. "As soon as Dickson can get a carriage for me, I am going to the Station House. If I have any influence anywhere in London, the persecuted creature shall be free before night."

"Philip Leigh!" exclaimed Mrs. Merton, her pale face flushing haughtily, "do you take sides with that creature ?"

"To whom do you refer, madam ?" "To the vagabond woman I have just sent away from my house, and to her coadjutor, this pauper dependent upon my husband's bounty," answered the Honorable Mrs. Richard, quite losing her temper and waving her hand scornfully toward the frightened Genevieve.

Philip's hot young blood leaped madly to his cheek and struck angry sparks from his flashing eyes, his voice was hoarse, and his hand shook as he laid it upon that of Genevieve.

"If a man had made that speech, Miss Grey, you would have seen him prostrate at your feet by this time, for my arms, bruised as they are, would not have failed me. From a woman one must endure the most shameful taunts. Miss Grey, I hope you will pardon the abruptness of this speech. You will see that circumstances compel me to be less circumspect than I could wish. I love you. I think it was decidedly a case of love at first sight; but every day has deepened the impression. Will you let the carriage which takes me from here bear you to a suitable place of refuge? Will you-can you love me enough to marry me? Once my wife, we will see how long these shameful aspersions will have power to reach you."

Three more amazed faces than those of his listeners were never before seen at once. Philip stood up with haughty head and shining eyes, and repeated, with that resolute voice growing softer:

"Do not make me miserable, Genevieve. You shall teach me something of your own sweet purity; you shall lead me in those nobler paths of life. Only say you will try to love me a little in return for my whole soul's devotion."

Genevieve stood looking at him with widened, violet eyes, dumb, not more from his declaration than from the sudden revela

tion her joyfully leaping heart had simultaneously given. Twice she essayed to speak and the words fell back affrighted from the trembling lips.

"Philip, are you mad ?" suddenly demanded Mrs. Merton, darting forward to his side at a pace singularly unlike her accustomed stately grace of movement.

In his old sportive, jesting moods Philip might have answered theatrically. But light, trivial thoughts could not come with his whole being roused to such earnestness.

"Would to Heaven, Mrs. Merton, that I had always been as rational as now," answered he, turning again to the silent girl. "Genevieve, dearest, am 1 to have an answer?"

"I thought I understood," began Genevieve, glancing toward Annabel who stood supremely scornful, looking back to her.

"I guess your meaning," Philip hastened to interpose. "You understood that Annabel and I were betrothed. Let me tell you how true it is. My father died very suddenly, his health prostrated by excitement, and some perplexity of business which I never rightly understood; but I know my guardian, Mr. Merton here, helped him out of it. I was left as Mr. Merton's ward, accompanied by the wish of my father (out of gratitude, I suppose), that if we were both willing, I should sometime marry his daughter. Well, the time has come for us to be suitable judges of the matter. I do not fancy we are either of us very much in love with the other. I suspect rather my fair friend Annabel, when she succeeds in captivating the new lion of whom she was telling me, when she is Lady Barclay, will consider it a very good riddance for you to take me off her hands."

"I consider it so now," exclaimed Annabel, with asperity, her eyes snapping with a vindictive glimmer. "After the low tastes you have exhibited, I scorn you, Philip Leigh, too much even to acknowledge you as a friend."

She swept across the room in haughty disdain, and the door swung behind her stately figure.

Mrs. Richard, casting a glance of mingling rage and hatred behind her, slowly followed.

"And now,my Genevieve ?" asked Philip, tenderly.

"O Philip Leigh, I dare not answer. Give me time-let me think."

"You are afraid you cannot love me well enough!" exclaimed poor Philip, in dismay. Her sweet face flushed rosy in an instant. "Not that, not that. I never suspected it till now. O Philip, I love you so well I am tempted to burden you with a wife upon whom rests so much ill-will and obloquy."

He covered the little hands with kisses. "If you love me, that is all. O Genevieve, my treasure! how shall I deserve you? But you will go away. I will take you to the house where I have established a new housekeeper, which I only visit now and then. Hard as it will be, I will not come near it. There shall be no breath of scandal against my darling. But go away from here, I implore you."

"I will. It was only because poor Moll begged me to remain that I staid at all, after my first discovery of their ill-will; but you must say no more to me of marriage until I have talked with her. O, I have forgotten her troubles. Philip, dear Philip, you will save her."

"There is no need," said Moll's deep voice; and to their astonishment the door swung open and the old woman entered.

"You are free! they have released you!" exclaimed Genevieve, springing joyfully to her side.

"Old Moll is free. She has come to say you need no longer remain beneath the cold shadow of this inhospitable roof. She has provided a home for you. Come at once, for I am not ready to meet Richard Merton yet."

Philip's hand had gone diving hastily into his pocket, and his handsome face was almost ludicrous in its mixture of embarrassment and anxiety not to offend the old

woman.

"My dear madam," began he, "my dear Mrs. Moll, will you take the young lady to a house of mine that I have fitted up lately, just on the outskirts of the city? There is a nice respectable woman in charge. Oblige me, too, by taking her there in a carriage. Here is the address and my purse. Use it freely, I beg of you."

A queer chuckling laugh came from the old woman.

"Does the fine gentleman think Old Moll is a simpleton, that she will take the pretty bird to his gilded cage just for the sake of a plump purse ?"

The blood mounted impetuously to Philip Leigh's forehead.

"You wrong me, on my soul you wrong me. Do you think I could cherish such evil plans in such pure presence? Genevieve, tell her how I have besought you to marry me in Mrs. Merton's and her daughter's hearing, how I have laid joyfully my name, and heart, and fortune at your feet." "It is true, Moll. You must believe him everything honorable and good," answered the girl, eagerly.

"You asked her to marry you, the poor, slighted dependent of this grand house, whose mistress was turning angrily upon her, whose only friend was borne away as a common thief!" asked Old Moll, in an exulting tone, thrusting away the falling white locks from her eyes as she peered into his face.

"I did. Proud and happy should I be if she would only consent."

"She, without dower, or name, or friends -do you mean it truly, young man ?"

"As Heaven is my judge, I do," answered Philip Leigh.

Rubbing her wrinkled hands gleefully, Old Moll turned to Genevieve.

"And you, child, what did you answer him?"

"That were I only rich, and great, and worthy of him, I would joyfully give consent; but that as I was poor, obscure, reviled, I dared not drag him down from his rightful place in the world."

Moll held up her two trembling hands, and though they did not see it, the tears were slipping over the brown cheek.

"The Lord's name be praised! Blessed be the name of the Lord!" ejaculated she, fervently. "But come, we must go," added she, returning in a moment to her usual manner. "We shall be wanted. A carriage is waiting a little further off. Come with us, young man. We shall need you. Go quickly, my child, for your shawl and bonnet. Delay not for anything else."

Scarcely five minutes longer, and they were seated in the hackney-coach Old Moll had stationed in waiting. Dickson with wondering eyes had brought his master's cloak and wrapped around him, somewhat surprised to see the same policeman who had taken away the old woman, answering significantly her inquiring glance.

"Why do we wait?" asked Philip, in surprise, finding the coach still remained stationary.

Old Moll, looking out anxiously into the street, and then exclaiming, in a voice of relief:

"And here he is."

To the astonishment of all but Moll the policeman came forward, accompanied by the gentleman whose intrusion upon the exciting family scene had so disconcerted the Honorable Richard Merton. He bad just left the house after a long interview.

The poor man looked half frightened to death as the policeman quietly clapped him on the shoulder, and whispered a few words in his ear. He came forward, however, reluctantly, to the carriage door.

"Come in, come in, good sir," cried Moll, "there's no harm coming to you, none at all. A gentleman of your cloth should always be thankful to enact so important a part in so worthy a cause as lies in your power to-day. My friends, this is the Reverend John Maclean, a worthy Scotchman made over into an American citizen."

The reverend gentleman looked utterly bewildered.

"If you would just allow me to speak a word to my friend here, the Honorable Richard Merton," began he, in a beseeching voice.

Old Moll laughed.

"In good time you shall see him. In good time we will have the testimony of the Honorable Richard. But spare yourself needless alarm. You have only to speak the truth fearlessly, and it cannot injure, while it may greatly benefit you. Mr. Philip Leigh, on second thoughts, I shall be glad to accept your proffered hospitality. I intended to proceed to a lawyer's office; but if you have no objection, I will take the lawyer up, and proceed with this party to your house."

"I like the idea better. A dusty office is scarcely the place for Genevieve," answered Philip.

So it happened that the new housekeeper, whom Philip had secured a few weeks before the accident, for his charming little "Ivy Lodge," as he had christened it, as she sat at the large bay window, sewing, was startled by seeing this coach full of passengers deposited at her door.

She was a singular-looking woman, dressed more like a nun than the fashionable lady people of her class were apt to attempt. A dark brown merino dress, made

took the place of a shawl, and half concealed her figure, a plain, snow-white muslin cap, coming almost to her forehead, only just revealing a glimpse of dark hair put back as far as possible. A pale sad face, with dark circles under the eyes, which spoke of either ill health or secret tears. With the eyes themselves, one in her presence a long while might still be unacquainted, for the drooping lids were seldom raised.

A hasty glance showed her the youthful owner of the Lodge, and supposing he had recovered enough to bring guests, she rose hastily to speak with Dickson who led the way.

Dickson gave her his master's orders, and she hastened to set the other servants to execute them, and so was not present when the party was ushered into the drawingroom. She came in quietly in response to Philip's summons, and was introduced in a general manner, and sat down immediately in the obscure seat beneath the drapery of the deep window.

Genevieve was talking eagerly with Old Moll, and scarcely turned her head, only catching a careless glance of a gray dress and snow-white cap. But Madame Heckler, the housekeeper, after a sudden sharp glance at the sweet girlish face, pressing her hand against her side, sank into her seat, grown ghastly pałe.

The lawyer, at a signal from the policeman, rose deliberately, and holding a little slip of paper in his hand, at which he now and then glanced lightly, thus addressed the kidnapped clergyman:

"Are you willing to give your testimony as regards a circumstance with which you are acquainted, in behalf of a client of mine ?"

Certainly," answered the American minister, promptly, looking immensely relieved.

"You will understand that your testimony is to be taken down before all these witnesses, so you will be strictly accurate in your statements. The matter is of somewhat ancient date. You were in Sicily in the winter of 18-, seventeen years ago, in the town of ―, near Palermo ?"

"I was," was the prompt reply.

"Your name then was John Maclean, your profession that of a clergyman. You belonged to Scotland-came from near Edinburg."

"All of which is strictly true," responded the reverend gentleman.

"Did you perform any ceremony in your capacity as clergyman while in Sicily ?"" continued the lawyer, tapping the paper significantly, and looking straight into the face of the witness.

'CONCLUDED IN NEXT NUMBER.]