locked in here alone," said Helen,
desperately.

"Mademoiselle forgets I am her courier."

"I do not forget that you are a gentleman. Pray come in; my uncle will
thank you."

"I will," and with a sudden brightening of the eyes, a grateful
glance, and an air of redoubled respect, Hoffman followed her into the
carriage.

They were off at once, and the thing was done before Helen had time
to feel anything but the relief which the protection of his presence
afforded her.

The young gentlemen stared at the veiled lady and her grim escort,
joked under their breath, and looked wistfully at the suppressed
cigars, but behaved with exemplary politeness till sleep overpowered
them, and one after the other dropped off asleep to dream of their
respective Gretchens.

Helen could not sleep, and for hours sat studying the unconscious
faces before her, the dim landscape flying past the windows, or forgot
herself in reveries.

Hoffman remained motionless and silent, except when she addressed
him, wakeful also, and assiduous in making the long night as easy as
possible.

It was past midnight, and Helen's heavy eyelids were beginning to
droop, when suddenly there came an awful crash, a pang of mortal fear,
then utter oblivion.

As her senses returned she found herself lying in a painful position
under what had been the roof of the car; something heavy weighed
down her lower limbs, and her dizzy brain rung with a wild uproar of
shrieks and groans, eager voices, the crash of wood and iron, and the
shrill whistle of the engine, as it rushed away for help.

Through the darkness she heard the pant as of some one struggling
desperately, then a cry close by her, followed by a strong voice
exclaiming, in an agony of suspense,--

"My God, will no one come!"

"Hoffman, are you there?" cried Helen, groping in the gloom, with a
thrill of joy at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Thank heaven, you are safe. Lie still. I will save you. Help is
coming. Have no fear!" panted the voice, with an undertone of fervent
gratitude in its breathless accents.

"What has happened? Where are the rest?"

"We have been thrown down an embankment. The lads are gone for help.
God only knows what harm is done."

Karl's voice died in a stifled groan, and Helen cried out in alarm,--

"Where are you? You are hurt?"

"Not much. I keep the ruins from falling in to crush us. Be quiet,
they are coming."

A shout answered the faint halloo he gave as if