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” She said. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. "We may trust him," he added in a whisper; "he is a staunch friend of the good cause. Well, I shall be sorry to lose him, Mr. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. She turned a resolute face southward. .

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