"It is nine o'clock.

I think we would better start at once.

I will go out and see that the arrangements about the carriage are made properly, myself," he said, stepping through the door.
Seymour's hand had closed tightly over something which had happened to fall near where it lay.

"Bentley," he called, "what is this in my hand ?" "It is a handkerchief, Mr.John,--a woman's handkerchief too, sir, and covered with blood." "Has it any marks on it ?" said Seymour, eagerly.
"Yes, sir; here are the letters K.W.embroidered in this corner." "I thought so," he smiled triumphantly.

"Will you put it inside my waistcoat, there, over my heart?
Yes," he added, as if in answer to the old man's anxious look, "it is true; I love her, and she has confessed that she loves me.