n by and by."

"And don't they know if a man be dead or alive?"

"Not when he's a foreigner, Illustrissimo; and such is the case here."

"Ah, very true!" said Grounsell, dryly, as if acquiescing in the truth
of the remark. "Let me have a look at him; perhaps I can assist their
judgment." And with this he descended, and made his way through the
crowd, who, in all the eagerness of curiosity, thronged around the cart
A peasant's great-coat was drawn over the figure and even the face
of the sick man, as he lay at full length on the mat flooring of the
baroccino; and on his chest some pious hand had deposited a rosary and a
wooden crucifix.

Grounsell hastily drew back the covering, and then clutching an arm of
those at either side of him, he uttered a faint cry, for the pale and
deathlike features before him were those of George Onslow. The instincts
of the doctor, however, soon rose above every other feeling, and his
hand seized the wrist and felt for the pulse. Its beatings were slow,
labored, and irregular, denoting the brain as the seat of injury.
Grounsell, therefore, proceeded to examine the head, which, covered with
clogged and matted blood, presented a terrific appearance; yet neither
there nor elsewhere was there any trace of injury by fire-arms. The
history of discovery was soon told. A shepherd had detected the body as
he passed the spot, and, hailing some peasants on their way to Florence,
advised their taking charge of it to the city, where they would be
surely recompensed. The natural suggestion of Grounsel's mind was that,
in making his escape from the gendarmes, Onslow had fallen over a cliff.
To convey him home, and get him to bed, if possible, before Sir Stafford
should hear of the misfortune, was his first care; and in this he
succeeded. It was the time when Sir Stafford usually slept; and
Grounsell was able to examine his patient, and satisfy himself that no
fatal injury was done, long before the old Baronet awoke.

"Sir Stafford wishes to see you, sir; he asked for you repeatedly
to-day," said Proctor.

"Has he heard--does he know anything of this?" said Grounsell, with a
gesture to the bed where George lay.

"Not a word, sir. He was very cheerful all the morning, but wondering
where you could have gone, and what Mister George was doing."

"Now for it, then," muttered Grounsell to himself, as, with clasped
hands and knitted brows, he walked along; his mind suffering the very
same anxieties as h