made his motives evident, as it exposed the
fallacious nature of the security on which Routh had
built, as it made him see how true had been
Harriet's prevision, how wise her counsel—- though
he hated her all the more bitterly as the
knowledge grew more and more irresistible —- the
murderous impulse rose to fury within him. Standing
there a prisoner, helpless, and certain of
condemnation, for he never had a doubt of that, the
chain he had helped to forge by his counsel to
Dallas was too strong to be broken; he would
have taken two more lives if he had had the
power and the chance—- the boy's, and that
accursed woman's. Not his wife's, not Harriet's;
he knew now, he saw now, she had not brought
him to this. But the other, the other, who had
tempted him and lured him; who had defeated
him, ruined him, and escaped. He knew her
shallow character and her cold heart, and his
fierce, vindictive, passionate, sensual nature was
stirred by horrid pangs of fury and powerless
hate as he thought of her—- of the triumphant
beauty which he had so coveted, of the wealth he
had so nearly clutched triumphant, and happy,
and powerful still, while he—- he—— ! Already
the bitterness and blackness of death were upon
him.

And the boy! So powerful, even now, was
the egotism of the man's nature, that he winced
under the pain of the defeat the boy had inflicted
upon him—- winced under the defeat while he
trembled at the destruction. He had kept him
near him, under his hand, that if the need should
arise he might use him as an instrument for the
ruin of George Dallas, and so had provided for
his own ruin. The active hate and persistent
plan of another could not have worked more
surely against him than he had himself wrought,
and the sense of the boy's instrumentality
became unbearably degrading to him, wounding
him where he was most vulnerable.

Thus all black and evil passions raged in his
heart; and as his wife looked in his face, she
read them there as in a printed book, and once
again the feeling of last night came over her, of
the strangeness of a sudden cessation to all this,
and also something like a dreary satisfaction in
the knowledge that it was within her power and
his to bid it all—- cease to have done with it.

Looking at him, and thinking this, if the
strange dream of her mind may be called thought,
the curiosity of the crowd began to anger her a
little. What was the dead man to them, the
nameless stranger, that they should care for the
discovery—- that they should come here to see
the agony of another man, destined, like the
first, to die? The popular instinct filled her
with loathing, but only momentarily; she forgot
to think of it the next minute, and the
vagueness came again, the film and the dimness,
and again the acute distinctness of sound, the
intensity of vision.

It was over at length. The prisoner was
committed for trial. As he was removed with the
celerity usual on such occasions, Harriet made
a slight sign to the solicitor acting for Routh—- a
sign evidently preconcerted, for he approached
the magistrate, and addressed him in a low voice.
The reply was favourable to his request, and he,
in his turn, signed to Harriet, who left her place
and came to where he was standing. He placed
her in the box, and she stood there firmly,
having bowed to the magistrate, who addressed
her:

"You are the prisoner's wife?"

"I am."

"You wish to speak to me?"

"I wish to ask your permission to see my
husband before he is removed."

"You may do so. Take care of the lady."

This to one of the officials. The tone of the
magistrate's reply to Harriet was compassionate,
though he spoke briefly; and he looked intently
at her as she bowed again and turned meekly
away. He has said, since then, that he never
saw supreme despair in any face before,

"You have not much time," the policeman
said, not unkindly, who conducted her to the
lock-up cell where Routh was. She made no
answer, but went in, and the door was locked
behind her. He was sitting on a bench exactly
in front of the door, and the moment she
passed it her eyes met his. Fury aud gloom
were lowering upon his face; he looked up
sullenly at her, but did not speak. She stood
by the door, leaning against it, and said, in a
low tone:

"I have but a little time, they tell me. I am
come to learn your will. It was agreed
between us, once, that if the worst came, I should
supply you with the means of disposing of your
fate. I remembered that agreement, and I
have brought you this"

She put her hand to her bosom, and took
out of her dress a small phial. It contained
prussic acid, and was sealed and stoppered with
glass.

He started and groaned, but did not yet
speak.

"The worst has come," she said. "I do
not say you ought not to face it out, still I
only do as you once desired me to do in such a
case. The decision is with yourself. This is
my only opportunity of obeying you, and I
do so."

"The worst has come," he said, in a hoarse
voice, not in the least like his own; "you are
sure the worst has come? He said it was a bad
case, a very bad case. Yes, the worst has
come."

Her hand was stretched out, the phial in it.
He made no attempt to take it from her. She
held it still, and spoke again:

"I have very little time. You will be
searched presently, they tell me, and this will
be found, probably. I have obeyed you to the
last, as from the beginning."

"There's no chance—- you are quite sure there
is no chance?"

"I am quite sure there is no chance. I have
always known, if this happened, there could be
no chance."

He muttered something under his breath.

"I do not hear you," she said. " You are