my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do
not keep them waiting."

"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced
without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step
without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he
impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm.

At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned
impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance.

At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared
deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps,
seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder
appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming
from beneath overhanging brows.

Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very
different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former
drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one
bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed,

"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!"

The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to
his heart, and said,

"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!"

Barclay advanced threateningly,

"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house
is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your
life?"

"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the
unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and
unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in
wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the
brother's blood."

"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full
well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool,
who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction
without the necessity of any prompting from me."

"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay.
I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come
forward, Antoine."

The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him.

"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower
tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too
suddenly the developments I am prepared to make."

Then turning to Edith he said--

"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, whi