, to the other end of the
mansion, to stop by his cousin's door.

Here the chill of death seemed to strike upon him. No light stole
through crack or keyhole--all was darkness and silence--and he sank upon
his knees, to remain motionless for a few minutes, and then rise firmer
of purpose than ever.

It was later than he thought, for his various preparations had taken
time; and the soft glow of morning lit up the east staircase window as
he slowly raised it, stepped out on to the leads, closed it again, and
then, climbing over the balcony rails, lowered himself down till he
could hang for a moment or two from the bottom of one of the iron bars,
swing himself to and fro by his wrists, and then, with a backward
spring, drop lightly on to the turf beneath.

In another minute--unseen, unheard--he had passed out of the gate and
was walking through the town, making for the lower road and the swollen
river.

Here he rapidly awoke to the fact that the waters were out far more
widely than he had ever seen them before; and again and again, as he
made for the path that ran along by the river toward the bridge, he was
driven back, the flood turning the different lanes he tried into huge
ditches or canals.

He tried every turning so as to reach the bridge as soon as possible,
but it was always the same; and finally, after consuming a good deal of
time, he made his way round by the road, following it on till it bore
away to his right, crossing the river by the old two-spanned wooden
bridge and then winding onward among the sunny vales and hills of Kent.

As he walked on swiftly, now in the bright sunshine, it was with his
head lowered and a curious feeling of guilt troubling him. He told
himself that he ought to have left the place sooner, and he shivered at
the thought of being seen by someone who, knowing all the circumstances,
would catch him by the arm and insist upon his going back.

But, at heart, he knew that the words would be in vain. Back he would
never go, and, strong and active, he felt that he could easily free
himself from the detaining clutch, and then--there was the river.

Richard had some recollection of passing or being passed by a man with
sheep; but he was coming in the opposite direction, and this did not
seem an enemy to fear, as he shouted from beyond the flock, and above
the patter of their hoofs, a cheery "Good-morning."

Richard smiled bitterly to himself as he hurried on. Good-morning! If
tha