Now then--" as Darvil spoke he seized his daughter in his arms; threw over her a shawl and a cloak that lay at hand, and was already on the threshold.
"I don't half like it," said Walters, grumblingly--"it been't safe." "At least it is as safe as murder!" answered Darvil, turning round, with a ghastly grin.

"Make haste." When Alice recovered her senses, the dawn was breaking slowly along desolate and sullen hills.

She was lying upon rough straw--the cart was jolting over the ruts of a precipitous, lonely road,--and by her side scowled the face of that dreadful father..