be watched in vain. Among the women came no
Helen Rivière—among the men no William
Trefalden. By-and-by, he heard the psalm-singing
through the half-opened windows, and now and
then a faint echo of the voice of the preacher.
At length, after a service that seemed to him as if
it would never end, the worshippers came out
again and went their several ways. He then
entered the chapel, begged the favour of five
minutes' conversation with the officiating clergyman,
and was shown into the vestry.

A fragile-looking young man of about six or
seven-and-twenty received him politely, pointed
to a seat, and begged to know in what manner he
could have the pleasure of being useful to him.

Saxon had no difficulty in telling his story.
He had told it so often, and always with the same
reservations on one or two points, that it now
came to his lips with the readiness of an
established formula.

He was in search of two friends who, he had
reason to believe, had lately arrived in Bordeaux.
The gentleman was a near relative of his own,
and he was intimately acquainted with the family
of the lady. Her name was Rivière. She was
about seventeen or eighteen years of age, and
dressed in deep mourning. He was the bearer of
very important intelligence, and had travelled
from England expressly to see these friends, if
only he were so fortunate as to obtain some
definite information respecting them. And then he
concluded with an apology for the trouble that he
was giving, and the time that his narrative occupied
in the telling.

The clergyman, sitting with one hand over his
mouth, and his eyes fixed attentively upon the
ground, heard him to the end, and then, in a very
quiet clear voice, said:

"Will you oblige me with your name?"

"Certainly. My name is Trefalden."

"Is Trefalden also the name of your relative?"

Saxon hesitated.

"I do not think that he is travelling under that
name," he replied, with some embarrassment.

"Do you mean, Mr. Trefalden, that your friend
is travelling under an assumed name?"

" I mean—that is, I believe—he is travelling
under the name of Forsyth."

The clergyman pressed his fingers nervously
against his lips.

"This is strange," he said.

"If you know any thing, for Heaven's sake do not
hesitate to tell it!" cried Saxon, impetuously.

"I am bound to hesitate," replied the clergy-
man. " I do not know whether I ought . . . ."

"If it be your duty to help the helpless and
baffle the unrighteous, you ought—believe me,
sir, you ought-- to speak!"

The young clergyman looked at him fixedly,
and after a moment's pause, replied:

"I do believe you, Mr. Trefalden. I also
believe that I am engaged to marry those two
persons to-morrow at Drouay."

Saxon changed colour, opened his lips as if
about to speak, checked himself, stood up, sat
down again, and said in a low deep voice:

"I am glad to find that I am in time."

"To be present at their wedding?"

"No—to prevent it."

The clergyman looked as if he had half
anticipated this reply.

"If I am to refuse to perform the ceremony,
Mr. Trefalden, you must furnish me with an
adequate reason," said he.

Saxon was sorely tried between his desire to
screen the good Trefalden name, and the obvious
necessity for stating his case plainly.

"If I place a great confidence in you," he said,
presently, " will you promise not to betray it?"

"Unquestionably."

Saxon looked at him as if he would fain read
his very heart.

"You are an utter stranger to me," he said;
"but I think you are a man of honour. I will
trust you."

And then, having looked out into the chapel
and seen that there was no one within hearing,
Saxon sat down and related all the story of his
cousin's perfidy.

CHAPTER XCII. ME. GUTHRIE's TESTIMONY.

THE clergyman's name was Guthrie. He was
lodging at the house of a small propriétaire at
Drouay, as the old femme de charge had said, for
his health; and hither, according to the statement
which he gave in return for Saxon's confidence,
a gentleman came out from Bordeaux to
visit him in the evening of the foregoing Wednesday
that is to say, on the evening of the very day
that the Daughter of Ocean landed her passengers
at the Quai Louis Philippe. This gentleman
said that his name was Forsyth. The object of his
visit was to engage Mr. Guthrie to perform the
ceremony of marriage between himself and a lady
then staying at the Hôtel de Nantes in Bordeaux.
Mr. Guthrie arranged to marry them on the
Saturday, and this matter disposed of, Mr.
Forsyth, who was a remarkably pleasant person, made
some observations about Drouay, and asked if
there were any apartments to be had in the
neighbourhood. He then added, that the lady whom he
was about to make his wife had lately lost a near
relative, and would be glad to escape from the
noise and bustle of Bordeaux to so retired a spot.
Mr. Guthrie then volunteered to accompany him
to a little château near by, which was to be let
furnished, and Mr. Forsyth engaged the first floor
on the spot. There was at first some little
difficulty about the matter, as the propriétaire was
unwilling to let any part of his house for less than
one month; but Mr. Forsyth, who was
apparently as rich as he was agreeable, offered a
fortnight's rent in advance, and promised that,
although the lady would probably not remain there
more than a week, the whole month should be
paid if her occupation of the rooms caused
monsieur le propriétaire to lose a more
advantageous tenant. The next morning he escorted
Miss Rivière to Drouay, installed her at the
Château de Peyrolles, and having introduced her
to Mr. Guthrie, and recommended her to that
gentleman's care and attention, took his leave.