to notice that any one had entered the room, and it was not until the rector had first lightly touched her hand, and then taken it gently between his own, that she ceased moaning, and, calming herself by a great effort, saw her friend seated by her side. Even then she seemed either not to recognise him, or to forget the circumstances under which he was present, for she pressed the hand that was free hard upon her forehead, and closed her eyes again for some moments before she spoke.

Then she said, “I know now why you

are here."

66

"You sent for me," said the rector, in his gentlest tone; you told the servant you wished to see me.'

"Yes," she said, "I recollect it all now. My mind is a little confused, I am afraid, and when I first saw you sitting there and holding my hand just as you used to do in the old days when I had the fever, I thought that time had come back again, and wondered whether all the things which have occurred in the interval had been seen by me in a dream. I wish they had, oh, how I wish they had!"

"Your strength is not yet sufficiently returned to enable you to think, much less to speak of anything which is certain to excite your brain," said the rector, bending over her. "Margaret," he added, as if replying to an impatient gesture on her part, "I must speak plainly to you; your state is most critical, and if you excite yourself, your life, or, what is perhaps worse, your reason, is in imminent peril."

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"You mean that I shall go mad," said Madge, turning her eyes upon him and clutching his hand. If I do, it will be from reticence, not from speaking. You have been often pleased to praise my common sense; believe me it has never been more active or more capable of doing me service than at the present moment. must know from you what has occurred this night; you must tell me all without attempting to suppress or disguise anything. Do you hear me? you must, I say!"

I

The rector hesitated a moment before he said, "Will you not wait until Dr. Chenoweth, who is coming up again to-night, has seen and spoken to you?"

"This is no matter for doctor's decision. You, best of all men in the world, can judge how I can bear up against illness and trouble; you alone in the world know the story of my life, and what I have gone through. I tell you I must hear of tonight's occurrence at once and from you!"

"If I re

The rector bowed his head. fuse to answer any question you may put, or stop in the midst of my recital, you will understand, Margaret, that it is solely on your own account."

"I understand," she replied; then involuntarily sinking her voice, she asked, "Sir Geoffry-is he-is he dead ?" "He is."

As the rector spoke, he felt a convulsive thrill in the hand that lay within his own, and the pallor of Madge's face grew yet more intense and ghastly, but she evinced no other sign of emotion.

"Tell me all about it," she murmured.

Mr. Drage once more hesitated, until prompted by a nervous hand clasp. "When the servants, whose attention had been aroused by the sound of the struggle and the crashing of the overturned furniture and the broken glass, collected their senses sufficiently to rush in a body to the library, they found a man bending over Sir Geoffry's dead body, and endeavouring to raise it from the ground on which it lay to the couch; your presence on the spot was not noticed for some moments, not, indeed, until the man had been secured and removed into the hall."

"Secured, do you say? Is the man, then, in custody, and is he known?"

"He is; he was recognised by Riley on the instant; by a servant who had seen him on the occasion of the previous visit; finally, by Captain Cleethorpe, who spoke to you about him in the afternoon, when you expressed your dread lest he should come to"

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Ah, my God!" screamed Madge, supporting herself on both hands, and drawing herself towards him. "Of whom are you speaking ?"

"Of Sir Geoffry's son, George Heriot." But at that instant Madge's strength gave way, and she fell prone on her face with outstretched arms, and hands working convulsively.

The rector gently raised her, and laid her back upon the pillow. He was about to ring the bell to summon assistance, when he saw her eyes open and her lips move.

"Stay," she murmured, "for pity's sake. This is now a matter of life and death, which must be talked out at once between you and me alone; don't fear for me, I am strong enough; but I could not let things rest thus, even if I knew that to speak of them would kill me. What proofs are there against this young man ?”

"Many and

various, and most con

vincing. Riley, sorely against his will for he is almost heart-broken at the turn affairs have taken-will be called upon to prove the original quarrel between the father and son; when Sir Geoffry told him that he had discarded and disowned his son, whose name was never again to be mentioned in the household. Riley will further prove that on a recent occasion the young man came to Springside to seek an interview with his father, entered the house at the same time and much in the same manner as he entered it to-night; and that he, Riley, was finally ordered by the general to show George Heriot the door, and never give him admittance again. Cleethorpe, who had some slight acquaintance with young Heriot several years ago, will speak to meeting him in the afternoon, and to the young man's evident desire to avoid recognition; and I should almost think, Margaret, if you are sufficiently recovered, that you will be called upon to state why you were so strongly anxious that a meeting between the two men should be prevented."

"All these facts that you have alleged will be taken as reasons and motives, probable inducements for him to commit the crime. What proof is there that he did commit it ?"

"As circumstantial evidence it can hardly be stronger. He is seized upon the spot immediately after the commission of the crime; the body of the victim is in his arms; his clothes are stained with blood. When you couple this with the enmity known to exist between him and the murdered man, with the fact of his presence at the place from which he had been more than once ejected and warned, with the fact that he evidently shunned discovery and recognition-witness his behaviour to Captain Cleethorpe-however unwilling one may be to believe in the existence of such monstrous guilt, the charge seems to me impossible of refutation."

"The crime is one which it would have been impossible for George Heriot to have committed."

"One would think so," said the rector, "but still, sons have been known

"It is not as a son that I speak of George Heriot; it is of himself," cried Madge. "He is too gentle-hearted, too brave, too noble, to injure any human being, much less his father, whom he always held in affection and reverence, notwithstanding the bad

treatment he had received."

"You speak as if you had known this

young man, Margaret," said the rector, inquiringly.

"Then," said Madge, "I speak what is the fact. I knew him intimately for two years, saw him constantly, shared his confidence, knew the inmost workings of his mind, and never saw aught that was mean or dishonourable. And he has been arrested for this crime !"

"The evidence was so strong," said Mr. Drage, "that it would have been impossible to avoid arresting him, even if the expression of public opinion had not been loud against him."

"That evidence shall be overthrown; that public opinion turned in his favour!" cried Madge.

"That can only be done by directly proving George Heriot's innocence," said the rector. "And who can do that?"

"I can," said Madge. "I, who stood by, powerless, and saw the attack made upon Sir Geoffry, which I was helpless to prevent: and who saw my dear friend and master struggling with a man whose back was then towards me, but whom I afterwards recognised, when, after Sir Geoffry had fallen prostrate, he ran past me, and hurled me to the ground."

"And this man was not George Heriot?" "No, that I can safely and positively swear."

"Thank God!" said the rector, reverently raising his hands, "thank God for that! That our old friend should meet a sudden and a violent death is in itself awful enough, without the horrible idea that he died by his son's hand."

"What is the first step to be taken that Gerald can be at once set free ?"

"Nothing can be done to-night, Margaret," said the rector, quietly, "and it is absolutely essential that you should now have thorough quiet, and not move until you have been again seen by the doctor."

"But am I to lie here while he remains in prison with this fearful charge still hanging over him; with the belief in his guilt yet universal? Oh, it is monstrous to think of such a thing. I cannot and will not bear it!"

Margaret, listen to reason. No informal steps can be taken; all our proceedings henceforward must be taken under legal guidance, and nothing can be done to rescue this unhappy young man from the position in which he is placed, until his public examination."

"His public examination! Will he have to take his trial in court?"

"He will first be examined before the magistrates, and upon the result of that examination depends whether he will be sent for trial or not; that result, meanwhile, rests upon the quality of the evidence which you will give on his behalf. And you must remember, Margaret, that your evidence will not merely have the effect of clearing George Heriot, but will have the effect of putting the officers of justice on the track of the actual murderer."

"What!" cried Madge, starting up in consternation. "Is that so ?"

"Unquestionably. You, in your position, must not merely show that this young man did not commit the deed, but that some one else did. A minute's reflection will show you that George Heriot's innocence cannot be established until some other man is proved to be guilty. Who that other man is, the magistrates will look to you

Madge fell back on her pillow in a state of collapse. "I could not do it," she murmured, "I could not do it."

"Could not do it," repeated the rector, bending over her in astonishment. "Do you know what you are saying? You could not, or, rather, you would not give up to justice the name of the atrocious villain who cruelly murdered a weak and unoffending old man. Margaret, did I hear you aright ?"

But still she only murmured, "I could not do it!"

"Then will it go hard with George Heriot's chance of escape," said the rector. “Oh, no,” moaned Madge, tossing restlessly on her pillow, "the magistrates will He must be saved."

hear me.

"Then," persisted the rector, you must give up the name of the man whom you saw struggling with Sir Geoffry, and by whom you were hurled to the ground." But Madge only murmured, not do it! I could not do it!" The rector rose from his chair and began pacing the room.

66

I could

Margaret," he exclaimed, stopping short by the bedside, and again taking her hand, "do you know the importance of what you are saying, and the effect of the determination you have arrived at? Do you know that this young man's life is in your hands? That according to the weight attaching to the testimony which you may be able to give, he will either be set free or sent to the gibbet? And yet do you hesitate ?"

"He shall be set free," cried Madge;

my testimony shall fully clear him of the charge."

"And at the same time that it does so, it must implicate another. That is the point I want to urge upon you; that is the point which you do not seem to see."

"I see it fully, perfectly, and plainly," said Madge, "in all its most horrible significance. Oh, if you did but know what you are asking me to do, in bidding me give up the name of the real criminal! If you did but know what accusations of heartlessness and wickedness you are bidding me call down upon myself!"

66

Stay," cried the rector, suddenly again rising from his seat, and clasping her arm with agitated, trembling hand. "When you first came to this place, the hand of Providence led me to you, that I might be of service to you, a service which you afterwards repaid a hundred-fold by your care of my motherless daughter. Since then we have been thrown constantly together, and you have shown that you believed in my devotion to you by making me the confidant of your life's history. Is this confidence to be brought suddenly to an end, at this most momentous crisis of your life, or is it to be extended? Speak."

"I allow all you say," said Madge. "I grant that to no one perhaps in the world am I so thoroughly known as to you; but I do not see what you now wish me to do!"

"To let me be to you now still your confidant and adviser. It is impossible for you, you say, to make public the name of this criminal. Can you not tell it to me, that I may consider what, under the circumstances, is best to be done ?" "I cannot, I dare not!"

The rector reflected for an instant, then with a sudden lighting up of his face, he turned to her suddenly and said: "Suppose I, too, have my secret in this matter; suppose I, by certain chance, know who committed this crime, and tell the name to you-what then?"

"It is impossible for you to have this information; the secret is known to me alone on earth," said Madge, gazing in astonishment at his eagerness.

"Not to you alone!" he cried, bending closer to her and dropping his voice. "It is known to the murderer-to your husband!"

Madge uttered a short sharp cry. "How did you learn that?" she whispered.