obviously that could do no good; and, as for a
separation (which was suggested), there was no
absolute cruelty to allege, even if Dulcy would
have come forward to claim protection, whioh
she would not; in fact, when questioned by any
one except her mother, she systematically and
obstinately denied that she had any ground of
complaint against Sir John; but the servants'
tongues were free to wag, and they wagged to a
very different tune.

During the shooting season, Netherloup was
filled with constant relays of guests; and, when
the shooting season was over and the hunting
begun, Sir John, who was an ardent sportsman,
being busy, had less time to annoy his wife,
which was fortunate; for, during the month of
December, Lady Seamer gave birth to a son and
heir, concerning whom there were all the ordinary
rejoicings.

The winter months passed away to the
middle of March without any outbreak from
Sir John of more than average ferocity; but,
about that time George Milner came down into
the country on a visit to his mother, in
company with whom he called at Netherloup. Sir
John was out; but the visitors saw Lady Seamer
looking handsomer than ever, in gay spirits,
and with as few signs as possible of being an
ill-used wife. Lady Hilner said it was all put
on. She had seen Dulcy franticly miserable;
but it was quite right of her to keep a veil over
her wretchedness with the world in general; it
did not mend matters to make them the gossip
of the country-side.

For three weeks past there had been dry
weather and a parching east wind, which was
blowing keenly over the hills as Lady Milner
and her son drove away from Netherloup.
George looked back at the fine old mansion
perched above the Nethercliff; below which
roared and boiled the Loup, bounding from
ridge to ridge of the rock, all white with foam
and spray. Seen from the road, the house
appeared in some parts almost to overhang the
precipice, but there was in reality a terrace of
some twenty feet in width between the walls
and the cliff above the Loup; a very agile and
sure-footed man could even descend to the bed
of the torrent by clinging to the bushes and
springing to projecting ledges on the face of the
rock, but it was a very hazardous feat, and not
one that was often attempted. The situation
was picturesque in the highest degree, with its
mingling of wood and water, grey cliff and
green turf; but, whether it was worth having at
the price Dulcy had paid for it, George could
not determine. That night, when Mrs. Digby
was about to retire to bed, less at ease in
her mind now than she used to be on those
maxims of worldly wisdom in which she had
trained her daughter, she put aside the curtain
from the window to look out, as her custom
was, towards Netherloup. It was full moon,
and the bare outline of the hills was distinct,
even the Netherloup hills, three miles away:
and with a sigh, still tempered by a lurking
hope that matters would grow more harmonious
there by-and-by, she dropped the drapery and
betook herself to her slumbers.

In the dead of the night she was awakened by
a cry below her window, "Mamma, mamma!"
and then the house-bell rang as if pulled by a
terrified tremulous hand, and the agonised voice
rose again, "Mamma, mamma!" Mrs. Digby
thought for a moment that she was the victim
of a horrible nightmare, but the ringing
continued, and she heard a scurry of feet, and by the
time she had got out upon the landing, the door
was being hastily opened below, and her old
servant, who had lived with her ever since her own
marriage, exclaimed, in accents of awe and
amazement,

"Lord ha' mercy upon us, Miss Dulcy! but
you must be stark staring mad to ha' run across
the country a night like this, and nothing on
but your night-clothes, and the blessed bairn,
too! Goodness grant you ha' not both gotten
your deaths!" And trembling as if she had the
palsy, Mrs. Digby tottered down the stairs, and
received in her arms the form of her daughter,
who hugged her vehemently, exclaiming,

"Oh, mamma, we are safe, we are safe!" in
hysterical sobs of terror and thankfulness.

By this time all the household was assembled,
and the women, in sympathetic sorrow, got the
poor young mother and her child into a warm
room and bathed her bleeding feet. The old
nurse and Mrs. Digby listened to her spasmodic
complaints and exclamations, and tried to quiet
her as well as they could. Dreadful shivers
ran through and through her frame, and
sometimes her words were so wild that they thought
she was seized with sudden frenzy; but they
were true enough.

"He swore he would kill me," was one of
these revelations; "he has said so often before;
but to-night I know he meant he would, and I
waited until the house was still, and then I
thought I would get away; but he had fastened
my door on the outside, and there was only the
window, and while I was listening and thinking,
I heard a crackling in the corridor, and the
smoke began to curl in at the crevices, and
there was a smell of fire. So I took up baby
and put a blanket over him; the window opens
easily, and I got down by the great old ivy
bushes on the tower. 'Oh, mother! and I got
down by the Loup and over the water." '

"Eh, Lady Seamer, but that was a long step,
but the angels helped you, surely!" cried her
nurse. And where Lady Seamer escaped down
the cliff and over the Loup, is called "Lady
Seamer's Long Step" to this day.

That night Netherloup was burnt to the
ground, and Sir John Seamer, whose mad act it
was, never from that time, though he lived to be
an old man, was safe to go at large any more.
His wife remained at Avenham with her mother,
greatly changed in character and temper by that
terrible night's escape from a terrible death.
Her child did not grow up, and the estates passed,
on Sir John's death, to a distant branch of the
Seamers, whom misfortune did not persecute
with such deadly tenacity. They rebuilt the