o us once
more.

But there is no peace. This morning another horrible tragedy defiled my
doorstep.

I was sitting in the open porch waiting for the mail coach, for it
seemed to me that it was about time I received some word from Mr.
Tamworth. It was yet some minutes before the time when the rumble of
the coach is usually heard, and I was brooding, as was natural, over the
more than terrible occurrences of the last few weeks, when I heard the
clatter of horses' hoofs, and looking up and down the road, saw a small
party of men approaching from the south. As they came nearer, I noticed
that one of the riders was white-haired and presumably aged, and was
interesting myself in him, when he came near enough for me to
distinguish his features, and I perceived it was no other than Mr.
Tamworth.

Rising in perturbation, I glanced at the men behind and abreast of him,
and saw that one of these rode with lowered head and oppressed mien, and
was just about to give that person a name in my mind when the horse he
bestrode suddenly reared, bolted, and dashed forward to where I sat,
flinging his rider at the very threshold of my house, where he lay
senseless as the stone upon which his head had fallen.

For an instant both his companions and myself paused aghast at a sight
so terrible and bewildering; then, amid cries from the road and one wild
shriek from within, I rushed forward, and turning over the head, looked
upon the face of the fallen man. It was not a new one to me. Though
changed and seamed and white now in death, I recognized it at once. It
was that of Edwin Urquhart.

. . . . .

This noon I took down the sign which has swung for twenty years over my
front door. "Happy-Go-Lucky" is scarcely the name for an inn accursed by
so many horrors.

* * * * *

FEBRUARY 3, 1792.

This week I have fulfilled the threat of years ago. I have had the oak
parlor and its hideous adjunct torn from my house.

Now, perhaps, I can sleep.

* * * * *

MARCH 16.

News from Honora. The distant relative who succeeded to the estates and
the title of the Marquis de la Roche-Guyon has fallen a victim to the
guillotine. Would this have been the fate of Honora's husband had he
forsaken her and returned home? There is reason to believe it. At all
events, she finds herself greatly comforted by this news for the
sacrifice which her husband made to his love, and no