In a quarter of an hour, the sound of the carriage-wheels was heard on its return, and Fenton, who seemed to dread also a return of his illness, said: "For heaven's sake, sir, be good enough to raise the window and let in air.

Thank you, sir." The carriage, on this occasion, was proceeding more slowly than before--in fact, owing to a slight acclivity in that part of the street, the horses were leisurely walking past the inn window at the moment the stranger raised it.

The noise of the ascending sash reached Miss Gourlay (for it was she), who, on looking up, crimsoned deeply, and, with one long taper finger on her lips, as if to intimate caution and silence, bowed to the stranger.

The latter, who had presence of mind enough to observe the hint, did not bow in return, and consequently declined to appropriate the compliment to himself.

Fenton now surveyed his companion with an appearance of as much interest and curiosity as the other had bestowed on him.