It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. I am really in earnest. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. Time after time he sent Spurlock into this corner or that; but always the boy regained his feet before the murderous boot could reach the mark. ” “And you knew, of course, that we were old friends?” “Indeed!” “Lady Ferringhall, I love your sister. .
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