an't complain, I think if I ask five thousand
for it. That old harridan, Lady Rookwood, offered me nearly as much."

"I will not talk to you of fairness," said Luke; "I will not say that
document belongs of right to me. It fell by accident into your hands.
Having possessed yourself of it, I blame you not that you dispose of it
to the best advantage. I must, perforce, agree to your terms."

"Oh, no," replied Dick, "it's quite optional; Lady Rookwood will give as
much, and make no mouths about it. Soho, lass! What makes Bess prick her
ears in that fashion?--Ha! carriage-wheels in the distance! that jade
knows the sound as well as I do. I'll just see what it's like!--you will
have ten minutes for reflection. Who knows if I may not have come in for
a good thing here?"

At that instant the carriage passed the angle of a rock some three
hundred yards distant, and was seen slowly ascending the hill-side.
Eager as a hawk after his quarry, Turpin dashed after it.

In vain the sexton, whom he nearly overthrew in his career, called after
him to halt. He sped like a bolt from the bow.

"May the devil break his neck!" cried Peter, as he saw him dash through
the brook; "could he not let them alone?"

"This must not be," said Luke; "know you whose carriage it is?"

"It is a shrine that holds the jewel that should be dearest in your
eyes," returned Peter; "haste, and arrest the spoiler's hand."

"Whom do you mean?" asked Luke.

"Eleanor Mowbray," replied Peter. "She is there. To the rescue--away."

"Eleanor Mowbray!" echoed Luke--"and Sybil?----"

At this instant a pistol-shot was heard.

"Will you let murder be done, and upon your cousin?" cried Peter, with a
bitter look. "You are not what I took you for."

Luke answered not, but, swift as the hound freed from the leash, darted
in the direction of the carriage.

_CHAPTER VI_

_ELEANOR MOWBRAY_

----Mischiefs
Are like the visits of Franciscan friars,
They never come to prey upon us single.

_Devil's Law Case._

The course of our tale returns now to Eleanor Mowbray. After she had
parted from Ranulph Rookwood, and had watched him disappear beneath the
arches of the church porch, her heart sank, and, drawing herself back
within the carriage, she became a prey to the most poignant affliction.
In vain she endeavored to shake off this feeling of desolation. It would
not be