understand something of what was going on within, when her unflagging patience and perseverance were rewarded, for the first time, by the discovery of what she knew to be an unusual occurrence. Mr. Chadd was in an overpowering passion. Up and down the room he came and went; up and down with quick firm steps, felling, to judge from the loud thuds upon the carpet, the massive chairs in his progress, until, to Mrs. Searle's terrified dismay, he stopped before the door, heavily striking it, and calling out her name in harsh tones, accompanied by angry upbraidings.

Unpleasant visions crowded before the old woman's eyes, grim grey pictures of the dreaded workhouse and ungrateful friends, sharply contrasting with the bright days of lazy living and good feeding enjoyed during her stay at River's Lodge, and with a groan she lamented the folly that had drawn her thitherwards that night.

'To think that I should have ruined myself for nothing; just out of idle curiosity. Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do? I daren't open the door and go to him with him in that passion. He said himself as how harm would come to me if I did anything as was what I hadn't ought, and that I hadn't to give way to idle curiosity. No. I'll just hurry away, and stay away until it's time for me to take him his brandy.'

But, safe in her own room, free from the distraction engendered by the fierce outcries, under dominion of a calmer mind came reasonable doubts as to the likelihood of Mr. Chadd having had knowledge of her presence at all.

'He could only have guessed, at best, I was there, for how could he have known? He couldn't have seen me in that darkness. He couldn't have heard me, I was that particular to keep quiet, especially through that thick curtain; and it was across the door all the time, or I should have seen the light through the cracks, which I didn't. Now how could he have known I was there? Yet, if he didn't, why did he call of me; and if he wanted to catch me spying, why didn't he open the door and pounce out upon me?

'It's strange, like all the rest of his affairs; and I don't understand it. But I know this; if he tackles me in the morning, I'll brazen it out to him, and take my oath I was sleeping in my bed all night, and never left it until he heard me coming with his mixture.'

Like many another anxious thought-taker for the morrow, Mrs. Searle, when the moment came for the testing of the need of her forebodings, found them vanish into thin air, to all appearances perfectly uncalled for. True, Mr. Chadd was silent and pre

occupied, but otherwise his manner was unchanged, his 'Good day' as he left the house being affable as ever, while no word was said as to the proceedings of the previous night. Mrs. Searle congratulated herself upon her foresight. She had saved herself, so to speak, by the skin of her teeth, for had not terror prevented her, she would have answered his calls by revealing her presence to him. Of one thing she was now certain. Never again, no matter how strong the temptation, would she, in satisfying her morbid curiosity, be led to risk the loss of her comfortable situation.

Gradually Mr. Chadd's visits to River's Lodge became more frequent, until hardly a week passed without his spending one night in the softly-lighted, richly-upholstered apartment there. Mrs. Searle continued true to her determination to carefully refrain from giving the slightest cause for complaint, and, however lively her inquisitiveness or excited her imagination, made no further attempt to pry into her master's secrets. And when she had ceased to scheme for their discovery, and when she was least expecting to learn them, the kernel of the whole truth was forced upon her, through no intervention of her own.

She had risen one morning at the usual hour, and, as had become her custom, after knocking at Mr. Chadd's door, gently pushed it ajar. Why did she start back, with a loud gasping sob which would have been an articulate cry in one less miserably afflicted? Why did she suffer the tray with the glass and water to slip from her clammy shaking fingers, as, with reeling gait, she fled into the passage? Her dress caught in the door-handle, and the door, with a loud bang, echoing and re-echoing along the corridor of the dark old house, closed. Her lips were white, her teeth chattering; and, helpless with fright, she fell prostrate upon the floor.

How long she had lain thus she could not have told, when she was aroused by hearing Mr. Chadd's voice gently speaking to her from behind the still closed door.

'Mrs. Searle,' he said, are you there?

How humble the tones! Mrs. Searle had never heard the like from him before.

'Mrs. Searle,' came the voice again, the extraordinary gentleness giving place to a little sternness, if you are there, as I imagine you are, kindly knock upon my door and let me know. Then I will explain something that may have appeared strange to you. Do not fear. There is no one here, now, but myself.'

Mrs. Searle, rising, with a vague feeble wonder why he did not open the door and see for himself whether or no she was there,

obeyed. Then, in accents half defiant, half awed, was related a short story, and at its conclusion, with heavy eyes and still timorous countenance, she re-entered the apartment.

After the revelation which had come upon Mrs. Searle with such startling suddenness, the one desire possessing her was to escape from the situation which before she had so highly prized. She longed to flee from the gloomy house, from the solitude which now so oppressed her, and, beyond all, from her master himself, whose presence filled her with dread and repulsion. Yet she dared not demand her liberty from him, and found it impossible to obtain it without his knowledge and consent. Of late, not only had gates been locked and the keys appropriated, but doors; not only was she a prisoner within the high stone walls of the garden, but within the house itself; and never once had Mr. Chadd forgotten to use these precautions. He had become aware of her fears, and of her wish to leave him, and had taken effective means for the prevention of her doing so, turning upon her after each fresh invention for securing her detention, a snarl revealing his teeth, like that of a famished bulldog, to beg her to mark his carefulness in preserving her blissful retreat from intrusion and his property from the attack of thieves. Latterly he had rapidly aged in appearance and declined in health. His spirits had become low, his temper irritable; and there was an indefinable something about him which, independent of the knowledge she held concerning him, was sufficient to inspire a feeling of repugnance in the old woman's breast.

She no longer took him his hot water at a certain fixed hour. Instead, she approached the passage into which his door opened, and what she heard standing with bated breath at its head, decided her how to proceed. If she was warned to retreat, she returned at intervals until receiving decisive indications she might enter his room.

The climax of her apprehensions was reached when he intimated his intention of spending a fortnight at the Lodge. His looks were wild and haggard as he made the announcement, and a nervous glancing backwards across his shoulder terrified her by the suggestion it presented to her mind. For the last few days. she had been in a condition approaching starvation, owing to his having failed to provide her with a sufficient supply of provisions, yet she had not the hardihood to remind him of his neglect; and, after ushering him into his room, climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, and endeavoured to lose remembrance of hunger in sleep.

But she could not sleep. Through the long night-watches she

lay, tossing from side to side, and thrusting her fingers into her ears and shuddering as she fancied she caught the sound of shrieks and groans from below-only fancied-the cries she had heard many a night, standing at the head of the passage, echoing in her brain; for no noise, however loud, from Mr. Chadd's apartment could reach her own.

When morning dawned, she timidly approached the passage, in which nothing but the fear she bore Mr. Chadd, and his assurance of her immunity from harm if she but carried out his instructions, would have induced her to set foot, but received unmistakable warnings to retrace her steps. Several times that day, several times the night following, did she retire without drawing nearer to the mysterious chamber, though wild entreaties rang out, wild commands she should at once enter the apartment.

The morning of the second day broke. Faint with hunger she descended to the passage. No sound came from her master's room-an intense stillness pervaded the house-and, with a relieved sigh, she shuffled up to his door and knocked.

But there was no response, and again she knocked. Still there was no response.

Her head was swimming with weakness, yet for two whole hours she stood outside the door, not daring to open it. At length, however, encouraged by the silence, and her sense of fear somewhat dulled by her craving for food, she laid her hand upon the massive knob, turned it, and walked boldly into the room.

The sun was shining brightly in through the windows, from which the curtains had been drawn aside, paling the pink rays of light emitted through the crimson globes into nothingness. The heavy chairs and couches were piled in a heap against one of the walls. Signs of a struggle-desperate, determined-were plainly visible. And in the centre of the room, his white face mockingly kissed by the sunbeams, lay Mr. Chadd-dead.

CHAPTER II.

EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF SIR CYRUS DREIRD, alius WILLIAM
CHADD, OF RIVER'S LODGE, SLICORUM LANE.

Wednesday, May 1870.-At last I have, figuratively speaking, reached the end of my tether. I have committed the sin which men--time so near in their thoughts, eternity so far-esteem supreme in vileness: I have cut short a human life.

For years I have rioted in the wickedness my heart loves, but

VOL. LXIII. NO. CCLII.

H H

never before have I broken the code of laws my fellow-countrymen have framed. The sensations I experience at the thought of my position as a criminal are novel. I awoke the night after the murder, to feel a cold leadeny chill creeping over me-over every part of my body but my hands and feet, which were burning hot —and I fancied a heavy weight was upon my chest, which I was unable to remove. The blood seemed to stop coursing through my veins. I was-save for the heat in my hands and feet, and the dull pulsation of my heart-as a dead man. For hours the dreadful nightmare hung over me, and I remained perfectly incapable of motion. Then I fainted; and when I recovered consciousness, day was breaking, and it was gone.

Tuesday.—For several nights I have been a prey to the same terrible sensation. I have suffered agony unspeakable.

Wednesday. I have consulted a physician. He has told me my nerves are out of order, and has recommended change of air, lively society, agreeable occupation, and more temperate living.

Friday. I have decided to travel. This fearful-I might almost call it disease-will kill me if something is not done to mitigate its horrors.

Friday, August.-How my jolly comrades in all the gay cities will laugh when they hear it! I have made up my mind to marry; to eschew the delights of my wild bachelor life, and seek happiness in connubial felicity. She to whom I intend offering my hand and heart is a pretty child of seventeen. I have met her at Thun travelling with her parents. They know me by name, my wealth, my title, my reputation as a roué, everything but my crime. How they would shrink from me did they but become aware of that! And yet they do not discourage my addresses to their daughter; nay, they encourage them. Simpletons!

Is not the murdering of souls, the first insidious impulse given towards propelling an immortal spirit to the downward road that leads to everlasting death, to be more condemned than the mere hastening of the inevitable doom of all flesh?

Tuesday.—Every day I am by Minna's side, walking, riding, driving, and every day I see more clearly the love she bears me. She is sweet and pretty; a truly womanly woman, with all the freshness of an ignorant child. I look forward to passing years of calm and pleasant existence in her companionship, and to becoming an eminently respectable member of society. I have sown my wild oats, covered them, and left them. I have grown weary of evil-doing. Let but my crime remain undiscovered (and who