mother

Damnation, George! if you spare the rod you spoil the child!" cried the poor man, turning aside to dash a couple of tears from his eyes, "The Bible tells you that."

66 True, most true," returned George, conscious of having received a Benjamin's portion of the paternal rod.

"The question is, what is to be done?" said the practical Keppel, who was pacing the library with a wide balance of limb, as if the carpet were liable to rise in waves and upset him.

"How

"Exactly," returned the admiral, with an air of relief. can we get him out of this hole, Maitland? We must spend all we've got to get him off and save the family honor. What's the first step? To London for a lawyer? And I sail on the third, and so does Keppel; and then Leslie is off to India. By Jove! it's the devil's own luck; nobody but a parson left to look after the family, and I put George into the Church-meaning no disrespect, gentlemen-because he was the fool of the family."

"The

"It is too ridiculous to take this seriously," said Cyril. inquest will, of course, set Henry free. He will prove an alibi, or these thick-headed rustics will have sufficent sense to bring in a verdict of accidental death. What more probable than that Leein trouble, and probably a little tipsy-should slip in a wood on a dark night and fall heavily?"

"But," replied Mr. Maitland, who did not remember that Cyril could have heard nothing about a wood, "a man can not drag himself for yards into the underwood after receiving a mortal blow on the head."

"Who says he was dragged?" asked Cyril, quickly.

"There are the marks on the frosted moss and grass. I saw them myself," said his father; and he went on to place further evidence before them, while Cyril listened with a beating heart and gathering dread.

"Good heavens!" he cried at last, "don't you all see that it is morally impossible for a man of Henry's character to commit such a crime? Even if Lee were killed, Henry had no hand in it.'

"Henry is as honest a fellow as ever stepped, Cyril," said Keppel; "but, you see, women are the very deuce. The best of men may be led on to anything, once he gets hung up in an affair of that kind."

"An excuse as old as Adam's iniquity," sighed Mr. Maitland.

66 Henry had nothing to do with that miserable business," cried Cyril; "I would stake my life on it."

"He

"Stand up for your friend, my lad," said the admiral. would be a doctor; and I won't deny that a surgeon is useful after a general engagement; but then, he would not even enter the service. Doctoring is bad for the morals; all this poking and prying into dead bodies is an infernal business not fit for a gentleman. Those very clever doctors are a bad lot, most of them in league with the devil. George said in his last sermon that the Almighty sends sickness as a punishment for sin, and it is a clear flying in the face of Providence to make people healthy."

"My dear father!" remonstrated George, who was not prepared for such an application of his sermon, flattering though it

were.

66

Yes, yes, you said so in the pulpit, and you are not in the pulpit now," proceeded the admiral, with a fine distinction between the preacher and the man. Now for action, lads. When does this damned thing take place, Maitland?"

66

“The inquest will be held to-morrow, admiral; but the verdict may not be given for some days. In the mean time, we must try to get all the evidence in Henry's favor that we can. Lilian saw him return, but refuses to swear to it. She actually disbelieves the evidence of her senses."

"Poor Lilian," murmured Cyril, with a kind of sob. "Oh, the women!" groaned the admiral. 66 George, go and break it; it is parson's work. Poor little Marion! you had better tackle her, Cyril."

"A solicitor must be procured to watch the case on Henry's behalf at the inquest," said Mr. Maitland. "I suppose Weston would be the man; he is your man of business, I think."

"Just so," replied the admiral, instantly ringing the bell to order a carriage. "I'll go at once. By George! I had forgotten the dance. Half the county will be here in a couple of hours."

The consultation was at an end, and the meeting broke up, and Cyril, with a strange feeling of relief, went to Marion and told her what had occurred, while George did the same with the other ladies, who somehow had the tidings conveyed to the people staying in the house.

Breaking the news to Marion was not all pain; in fact, it brought a wonderful solace to Cyril's troubled soul. He spent the evening

alone with her, and so exerted himself to convince her of her brother's perfect innocence and probable speedy release, that he went to bed with a lightened heart, and slept as no one else slept that night beneath the admiral's roof, the sleep of exhaustion, dreamless and perfect as that of an infant.

CHAPTER XIV.

In those days of unutterable amazement, Everard began to doubt his own identity. On the first day of the inquest he received an affectionate letter from Cyril, treating the affair of his imprisonment as a mistake, which a brief investigation would speedily clear

up.

Then came the succession of surprises which the inquest brought, as witness after witness came forward and swore to actions of his which he had never so much as contemplated in imagination.

After the evidence of those who discovered poor Lee, and that of the surgeon, Mrs. Lee was the first witness. She last saw her husband alive at dinner-time, after which he left her to return to the stables, she said. She left the Temple for Malbourne soon after three, and, on returning through the fields at about a quarter to five, she saw Dr. Everard spring over a hurdle leading into the fatal copse, and walk hurriedly along toward Malbourne. Although the moon was but just risen, she made him out distinctly by his gray suit. He had no stick in his hand, and, though he passed within half a dozen yards, did not appear to see her, and took no notice of her salutation. Her husband was a steady and sober man, but had of late been much depressed on account of family troubles; had been especially vexed at dinner-time, and had eaten little. When asked what had distressed Lee, she replied that he had some difference with his daughter, whom he had discovered with Dr. Everard at midday.

Sir Lionel Swaynestone stated that he had last seen Lee at eleven in the forenoon; had known him all his life as a sober and industrious man and good servant.

Judkins described the hour and manner of his finding Lee's body. He had last seen him alive at three o'clock, when Lee told

him that Dr. Everard would be somewhere near the Temple that afternoon, and that he intended, if possible, to meet him, and threaten him with exposure unless he consented to repair the wrong he had done his child.

Everard's solicitor here interposed to ask the nature of that wrong, and Lee's grounds for suspecting Everard of it, when, to his own deep amazement as well as Everard's, he was told that Everard and Alma had been seen together in the copse by both Lee and Judkins on the very morning of Lee's death; and, further, that he, Judkins, had witnessed several clandestine meetings between them during Mrs. Lee's illness in the spring. In the subsequent trial before the magistrates, Judkins further witnessed to meetings at specified times, and to gifts of flowers exchanged between Everard and Alma. A book of poems, found in Everard's room at the Rectory, was produced, inscribed, "For Alma Lee, with best New Year's wishes, from H. E." Judkins also swore that letters had passed between them.

The solicitor having asked Judkins if Lee had not threatened violence toward Everard, he replied that he only threatened to assault the prisoner in case he refused to do justice to his daughter.

Judkins further deposed that, on returning from the downs with some horses he had been exercising at a little after four on the fatal afternoon, he had seen the prisoner enter the copse. On being subsequently asked by Everard how he had missed Mr. Swaynestone, who was riding toward the downs at the same time, he replied that he had drawn up for some minutes behind a screen of hazels, while Mr. Swaynestone was passing in the open. He did not until the Assize trial add that he did this to watch the meeting of the gray figure with Alma.

John Nobbs, a stable help, deposed to parting with Lee on the high-road outside the gate at three o'clock; the witness was starting for Oldport on foot, Lee walked up the meadow toward his home. Lee carried no stick, and was quite sober.

Several Swaynestone servants witnessed having seen Lee about the place before three o'clock; after which hour no one appeared to have seen him alive.

Ingram Swaynestone bore witness to Lee's character; he saw him last alive at the stables at two o'clock. At twenty minutes past four, or thereabouts, Ingram rode across the meadow in which the Temple stood, at a canter, on his way across the downs to Shot

over, when he saw Everard walking quickly along a hedgerow in the direction of Temple Copse. He was dressed in gray, carried a stick, and made no reply to Swaynestone's shouted greeting, beyond a wave of his hand. On returning through Malbourne, at ten minutes to five, Swaynestone again saw Everard walking in the moonlight across the field, at the corner of which the Malbourne signpost stood. He reined in his horse, and called out to him; but Everard went hurriedly on, not appearing to see or hear him. The road was some fifty yards from the path Everard was pursuing, and the field was higher than the road.

William Grove had seen Everard at the same place and time. He expressed wonder to Jim, his mate, that Dr. Everard, at the sound of the wagon-bells—since he was then returning from Oldport with his team—and his own "Good night, doctor," did not come to receive a parcel the wagoner was bringing him from Oldport, and respecting the instant delivery of which he had been most solicitous. All this Jim Downer corroborated.

Stevens, the sexton, said that about sunset, or later, he was in the churchyard, and saw a figure in a gray suit, which he recognized as Dr. Everard's, leave the back premises of the Rectory, and ascend the hill in the direction of Swaynestone. He carried a stick.

Straun, the blacksmith, on the other hand, swore that he saw Everard pass through the village street by the forge at that hour, or a little before. He was uncertain about his clothes, but swore to the stick.

A Swaynestone keeper saw Everard a little later in a plantation on the upland. He described his gray suit and stick; he was not near enough to speak to him. A shepherd, cutting turnips in a field near, swore that Everard passed him at four o'clock, and stopped a moment to chat with him. He was not sure about his clothes; thought they were gray. Everard had a stick, also some very good tobacco, of which he gave him some. He told the shepherd that he was going across the downs to Widow Dove's. Dr. Everard wondered that two lone women should live up there in the solitary cottage, he said.

Eliza, the parlor-maid, bore witness that Everard was at the Rectory between three and four; he was in the drawing-room with her mistress when she showed some visitors in. She saw no more till about five, when he entered softly and hurriedly by the back