the mixture of ecstasy and agony that racked
me for the next few moments. I was roused
from my reverie by a shriek from Giles
Humphrey. He had found some letter for which it
seemed he had been seeking, and he was foaming
at the mouth.

At the same moment that I heard his shriek,
there was a sound in the adjoining chamber;
immediately the door flew open, and Lady
Humphrey herself appeared.

It was the first time I had seen her face to
face since the olden times. She was regally
dressed, and handsomer than ever, but with a
coarser, bolder beauty. She had just returned
from the Opera. So intensely interested had we
been in our occupation, that we had not heard
the stopping of the carriage, nor the knock at
the hall door. What she might have said, or
what she might have done, I know not, but the
frown had not time to darken on her face before
her miserable husband staggered towards her,
flung the crumpled letter which he held in her
face, and fell down at her feet in a fit.

I lifted him upon his bed, and ringing loudly,
despatched a messenger for a doctor. Then the
wicked wife and I stood looking at one another
across the dying man, whilst we chafed his hands,
and did what we could to help him. Even at
that moment I could not refrain from accusing
her. She saw the jewels lying scattered on the
floor, and was prepared for an attack.

"Lady Humphrey," I said, " in the name of
Heaven, and in the presence of death, I conjure
you to tell me truly if it were you who committed
the robbery at Ballyhuckamore Hall five years
ago P"

"Ay," said she, hardly, looking straight at
me across the bed. " It was I who did it,
certainly. If you had had the sense to ask me the
question four years ago, after my marriage with
him," indicating her prostrate husband, " I
should have told you the truth as freely as I tell
it to you now. I wanted money at that time,
and I took it."

"And threw the blame upon another?" I said.

She shrugged her shoulders. " One must do
something," she said. "It would have been
inconvenient to me just then to have had it
known."

"But, in the name of Heaven," I said,
"explain. Was it you who conferred with Jacko in
the passage? Then the black gown—the pocket-
handkerchief?"

She lifted her eyebrows, and smiled in
derision.

"Fool!" she said. " As if one woman could
not imitate another's dress for five minutes, if it
suited her purpose to do so. As if one woman
could not pick up another's pocket-handkerchief
and drop it again if she so fancied!"

My story, Tom, is nearly ended now. It only
remains for me to tell you how I sought for
Peg, and how I found her. For a whole year
I searched in vain, discovering no clue to her
whereabouts. Castle Shaughuessy was deserted,
and no one knew whether Sir Pierce's daughter
was living or dead. The poor people round her
old home cried when they spoke of her, but only
knew she had gone " abroad." Information
bitterly vague. " Abroad " might mean anywhere
over the wide, wide world.

The December of the year of my search I
spent in Paris, wandering day and night through
its open streets and hidden purlieus, seeking
eagerly for a glimpse of that one face which my
eyes yearned to behold. I had, somehow, got a
fancy that in Paris I should find her; and in
Paris I searched with unflagging energy, early
and late for three long dreary weeks. At last,
when I thought I was known in every street and
alley, and knew every face I met off by heart,
the hopeful spirit fell away within me, and I gave
up the struggle in despair.

Very sorrowful I was, Tom, walking along
the streets on Christmas-eve. Coming home to
my hotel just at twilight, I saw the bright glow
of a fire shining cheerily in one of the windows
of a large old-fashioned house quite close to my
destination.

Trees surrounded this old house, and gave it
an appearance of retirement, though the window
of which I speak looked out upon the road. I
wonder what it was that impelled me to cross
over and read upon a brass plate by the lamp-
light an announcement that this was an
establishment for the education of " Jeunes
demoiselles?"  I wonder what it was that impelled me
afterwards to look in at that window, and see
Peg sitting at the fire in a cozy little room all
alone? She was staring very thoughtfully at the
flames, as if looking at past Christmas-eves
between the bars. Of course Peg was a teacher in
tliis school, and I had walked up and down
before her door every miserable day for the past
three weeks. Of course I knocked at the door,
and startled her reveries by introducing myself.
Ay, there she was indeed, my very own little
Peg, only paler and thinner, and sadder and
sweeter-looking.

You may imagine the rest,  O Tom! knowing
as you do that little Peg is Mrs. Humphrey. I
did not deserve it, but I was forgiven.

Giles Humphrey, you know, is dead, and his
wife still contrives to live in splendour. She
shuns us, and we shun her. Whien, dear Tom,
shall we see you at Ballyhuckamore again?

MR. CHARLES DICKENS'S READINGS.
MR. CHARLES DICKENS will read at Portsmouth
on Thursday the 24th, and Friday the 25th; and at ST.
JAMES'S HALL on Tuesday the 29th of May, and on Tuesday
the 5th of June.

Shortly will be published, in Three Volumes,
THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "NEVER FORGOTTEN."
Tinsley Brothers, 18, Catherine-street, London.