man. Suppose you break with him now—and
your mind has been made up to do that for several
minutes—suppose you determine to save yourself
from this swindler, this liar, this thief, to
keep your character, and your money, and your
beauty for a different fate, do you think he will
let you go? How do you propose to escape
him? You don't know. You are terribly
frightened at the idea. I have come to tell
you."

"You are a dreadful woman—you are a
wicked, dreadful woman," said Mrs. P. Ireton
Bembridge, with a moan.

"Yes," said Harriet, ''I am a wicked, dreadful
woman, but you need not fear me, though
you have done me some wrong too, even, according
to your code, I think. Rouse yourself, and
listen to me while I tell you what you must do."

Mrs. P. Ireton Bembridge tried to obey her;
she shook back the hair which had fallen over
her face, and looked up with eyes less scared,
and more intelligent.

"If my husband has not left England by
tomorrow," said Harriet, with clear, distinct
emphasis, "it will be too late to save him from the
clutches of the law. Nothing will induce him
to leave England while you remain here.
What?" she said, with a sudden rush of burning
red into her face and an indescribable fierce
change of tone and manner. "What? You were
going, were you—and together? Tell me
instantly—instantly, I say—what is this I see in
your face?"

Mrs. P. Ireton Bembridge caught at Harriet's
gown, and stammered:

"Don't, don't; I'll tell you!"

"Do you think I am going to strike you
or kill you; do you think I would touch you
with one finger?" said Harriet, in her former
tone, and drawing her dress from the woman's
grasp with a quiet determined movement. "Tell
me instantly, and don't fear. You were going
away—and together? Where were you going,
and when?"

"To New York—on Saturday."

Harriet Routh turned abruptly from her, and
for one minute's duration of awful silence her
face was hidden. Then, with a sound like a
sigh and a sob, but such a sound as the listener
had never heard before, she resumed her former
position. The other dared not look at her for
many minutes. When she did, Harriet's face
fixed itself for ever on her memory as the ideal
of the face of one who had died of sheer pain.

"Thank you. The acknowledgment at least
is brave and true, and makes the rest easy. Am
I to conclude you do not wish now to carry
out this arrangement?"

"Oh no, no. For God's sake, save me!"

"In saving him. Yes. You must leave
England to-night, and he must follow you
tomorrow. Don't he frightened; I said follow,
not meet you. You must really go. No pretence
will avail. He could not be deceived in
this. You must cross the Channel to-night, and
telegraph to him to-morrow from some French
town, which you can leave upon the instant, if
you choose. That is your own affair. You
may return to England to-morrow night, if you
please, and reach Liverpool in time to sail for
New York on Saturday. Thus you will escape
him, and be free. He will not follow you against
your will to New York, where you are protected
by your friends and your position. You have
but to write and forbid his doing so."

"I think—I think I understand," said Mrs.
P. Ireton Bembridge, in a voice full of submission
and entreaty; "but how am I to account
for going away?"

"At what hour do you expect him here
today?" asked Harriet, in a business-like tone,
without noticing the question.

"At nine in the evening."

"It is now nearly three. The tidal train for
Folkstone starts at six. Your arrangements
for next Saturday are all made, of course?"

"They are." Wonder and fear, and a strange
sense of dependence on this dreadful woman,
were growing on Mrs. P. Ireton Bembridge with
every moment.

"Then all is easy—if you can trust your
maid."

"I can, implicitly; but what must she do?"

"Settle everything here, and take your
luggage to Liverpool. You will not be able to
make an hour's delay on your return; you must
go straight through. You must travel without
a servant for once—no—take your page; he is
better out of the way—"

"I will do as you tell me; but you have
not said how I am to account for going."

"No," said Harriet, absently; "but that
will be easy. He will think you a fool, and
easily frightened, but your vanity must bear
that—it's not a heavy price to pay for safety."

There was a pretty writing-table in the room,
covered with elegant trifles. Harriet
approached it, and opened a blotting-book. Some
sheets of thick perfumed paper, with dainty
monogram and motto, lay within it. On one of
them she wrote as follows:

"All is discovered. Your wife has been here,
and has terrified me by her threats. Our scheme
must be abandoned. I cannot stay an hour
here, not even to consult you; I am in fear of
my life. Come to me at once, to Amiens. I
leave to-night, and will telegraph from thence.
If you do not join me on Saturday morning, I
will conclude you have given me up."

She rose, and desired Mrs. P. Ireton
Bembridge to take her place.

'"Copy that,'' she said, briefly; but before
the other took up the pen, she read the lines,
and exclaimed:

"I dare not—I dare not; he will kill you."

"That is my business," said Harriet, fiercely.
"Write."

She copied the letter slowly, and trembling as
she wrote, folded, sealed, and directed it.

"When is it to be sent?"

"When I have seen you off. I will take care
he receives it," said Harriet, as she put it in her
pocket. "Now go and give your directions,
and make your preparations."