Darvil endeavoured in vain to keep pace with her--his eyes dizzy, his steps reeling with intoxication.
She heard his last curse dying from a distance on the air, and her fear winged her steps: she paused at last, and found herself on the outskirts of the town.

She paused, overcome, and deadly faint; and then, for the first time, she felt that a strange and new life was stirring within her own.

She had long since known that she bore in her womb the unborn offspring of Maltravers, and that knowledge had made her struggle and live on.

But now, the embryo had quickened into being--it moved--it appealed to her, a--thing unseen, unknown; but still it was a living creature appealing to a mother! Oh, the thrill, half of ineffable tenderness, half of mysterious terror, at that moment!--What a new chapter in the life of a woman did it not announce:--Now, then, she must be watchful over herself--must guard against fatigue--must wrestle with despair.

Solemn was the trust committed to her--the life of another--the child of the Adored.