puts his hands on his shoulders and kisses him,
as if he was a woman, before us all."

Jim listened, pale and breathless, but quite
silent.

"Mr. Felton were out pretty near all night;
and when he come 'ome, the gentleman as is
here now were with him. He hasn't been to
bed at all, and I haven't seen him, but just when
I let the lady in, which she's a sweet lookin'
creature, and has been cryin' dreadful."

"Let me see Mr. Felton," said Jim, catching
the woman by her dress, and speaking with
the utmost eagerness and passion, " let me
see him. I came to see Mr. Dallas about this
business, let me see Mr. Felton."

"You came! why what have you got to do
with it?" said the woman; her curiosity
vehemently aroused.

"I will tell you all about it," said Jim,
adroitly; " you shall hear it all afterwards—a
cur'ous story as any one ever had to tell. Mr.
Dallas never did it—not he, I know better than
that. I can tell Mr. Felton a great deal."

"I must ask if he will see you," said the
woman; " if he won't, perhaps the lawyer——"

"No, no, it must be Mr. Felton himself. Let
me into the room."

She offered no resistance, and in another
minute Jim was in the presence of a group
composed of Mr. Felton, a grave gentleman, who
looked like a lawyer, a beautiful girl, who was
Clare Carruthers, and a plain, clever-looking
young woman, who was Clare's cousin, Mrs.
Stanhope. The lawyer and Mr. Stanhope were
seated by a table, in close conversation, which
they carried on in lowered tones. Clare and
Mr. Felton stood upon the hearth-rug, the girl's
golden head was resting on her companion's
shoulder, and she was crying silently, but
unrestrained.

"Is he very, very ill?" she had said, a little
before Jim entered the room.

"Not seriously so, my dear, and indeed
nothing could be more fortunate than that his
strength failed him so completely. It gives us
time, and I need it, I am so bewildered even
yet."

"Did Mr. Lowther say— say that he was not
—not brought before the magistrates, not
brought into that dreadful place, to-day?" said
Clare, her voice hardly audible for her sobs.

"Yes, my dear. Think a little; I could not
be here if he had not so much respite. Clare,
I am a chief witness; I must be there, you
know, to tell them about—about my son—— "
he paused, and closed his eyes for a few
minutes.

"The case was called pro formâ this morning,
but Mr. Lowther's partner, his brother, easily
procured a delay. George was too ill to appear,
but he sent me word that there was nothing
seriously wrong."

"Can no one see him?" asked Clare,
imploringly. " Oh, Mr. Felton, can no one go to
him? Can no one give him any comfort help
him to bear it? Are they so cruel as that, are
they so cruel?"

"Hush, dear, it is not cruel; it is right. No
one can see him for the present but Mr.
Lowther—Mr. James Lowther, who is with him
now, I dare say, who will be here this afternoon."

"How can you bear it? how are you ever to
bear it?" she said.

"My dear, I must bear it; and I have time
before me in which to suffer: this is the time
for action. You must help me, Clare, my dear,
brave girl. I sent for you for this; I sent for
you, at his desire, my child. His last words
were, ' My mother, my mother, she is coming
home to-morrow.' I told him to be satisfied,
she should be kept from the knowledge of all
this." He shuddered from head to foot. "Clare,
are you strong enough to redeem my promise?
Can you hide all that has happened from her?
Can you be with her, watching her, keeping a
calm face before her? My dear, have you
strength for this?"

She lifted her golden head, and looked at him
with her innocent fearless eyes.

"I have strength to do anything that he—
that George desires, and you think is right."

"Then that is your share of our dreadful
task, my dear. God knows it is no light or easy
share."

Clare's tears streamed forth again. She
nestled closer to him, and whispered:

"Is there no—no hope?"

"None, he replied. " If it had been possible
for George to be mistaken, I have had the sight
of my own eyes. Clare, they brought me my
son's coat! Ay, like Jacob, they brought me
my son's coat. My own last gift to him, Clare."
His eyes were dry and bright, but their sockets
had deepened since the day before, and his
voice had the febrile accent of intense grief and
passion restrained by a powerful will.

"What George must have suffered!" she
said, still in a broken whisper, her tear-stained
face upon his breast.

"Ah, yes, it is all dim to me still. Mr.
Lowther and I have been searching out the
truth all night, but we are still in confusion.
Tatlow is coming presently, and you must go
away, my dear, you must go home. You have
your share to do, and need strength to do it.
You shall know all I learn from hour to hour.
Mrs. Stanhope, will you—who is this? What
brings you here, boy?"

"Sir," stammered Jim, who, though he had
the wizened mannish look peculiar to his tribe,
was only a boy, and was desperately frightened
—- " sir, I came to tell you that I know the man
as didn't do it, and I know the man as did."

Mr. Felton loosed his hold of Clare, and
came forward. Mr. Lowther rose hurriedly
from his seat: he did not share the blank,
incredulous surprise of Mr. Felton. The two ladies
drew near each other.

"Who are you?" asked Mr . Lowther.

Jim told him.

"What are you come for? What——" began
Mr. Felton; but Mr. Lowther made a sign to
him to be silent, and addressing Jim in a quiet,