er carefully," the signal was again given, and a fierce
struggle ensued, which ended in Leslie Travers lying motionless on the
ground with a sword-thrust through his breast; and Sir Maxwell, binding
his hand, which was bleeding, with a lace handkerchief, asked coolly of
Mr. Cheyne, who was bending over Leslie:

"He is alive, I think?"

"Yes, he is alive; but I doubt if he will live ten minutes unless I stop
the bleeding. This, sir, is a pretty piece of business for you."

For a moment, Sir Maxwell's face blanched with fear; then, recovering
himself, he made a sign to his servant, who ran on towards the dip in
the moor, and presently another servant appeared with two horses. The
valet mounted one, and Sir Maxwell the other; and before the doctor or
Mr. Beresford had time to consider what course to take, Sir Maxwell
Danby was galloping off in the direction of the high-road which led to
London.

* * * * *

Griselda knew no more till she found herself in a strange room, and with
an unfamiliar face bending over her.

"Where am I?" she asked, sitting up, and looking round bewildered.

"You are safe with us, my dear young lady. You must take this glass of
reviving mixture, made from a receipt of my mother's."

And Caroline Herschel held the glass to Griselda's lips.

"How did I get here?"

"My brother Alexander brought you; but do not ask further questions, but
lie still."

The draught seemed to restore poor Griselda to consciousness, and with
consciousness the memory of what had happened came back.

"Oh!" she said; "did--did he die? I saw him fall. Yes; I remember now.
For pity's sake, answer me!"

It was well for Griselda that she was in the hands of a person at once
so sincere and so really kind-hearted. While many well-meaning people
would have fenced the question, and put it off, she answered quietly:

"Mr. Leslie Travers is very dangerously hurt. He is lying in his
mother's house hard by; and all that care and tenderness can do will be
done."

"Can I go to him?" Griselda said piteously.

"No; not yet--not yet. You are exhausted with all you have gone through.
Your duty is to lie quiet."

Duty was ever first with Caroline Herschel herself, and she thought it
should be first with others also.

Griselda struggled to her feet; but a deadly faintness overcame her, and
she sank back again, crying:

"His life for me--for me! Oh! I am not worthy----" and then she burst
into