picion forced itself upon him. 'Dead--in the Rookery.' He
hated himself for the thought that prompted him to draw the dagger from
its sheath. No! there was no trace of blood, and he was ready to kiss the
good steel for its innocence. He thrust the weapon into his own pocket;
he would restore it as soon as possible to its well-known place in the
gallery. Yet, why had Caterina taken this dagger? What was it that had
happened in the Rookery? Was it only a delirious vision of hers?

He was afraid to ring--afraid to summon any one to Caterina's assistance.
What might she not say when she awoke from this fainting fit? She might
be raving. He could not leave her, and yet he felt as if he were guilty
for not following Sir Christopher to see what was the truth. It took but
a moment to think and feel all this, but that moment seemed such a long
agony to him that he began to reproach himself for letting it pass
without seeking some means of reviving Caterina. Happily the decanter of
water on Sir Christopher's table was untouched. He would at least try the
effect of throwing that water over her. She might revive without his
needing to call any one else. Meanwhile Sir Christopher was hurrying at
his utmost speed towards the Rookery; his face, so lately bright and
confident, now agitated by a vague dread. The deep alarmed bark of
Rupert, who ran by his side, had struck the ear of Mr. Bates, then on his
way homeward, as something unwonted, and, hastening in the direction of
the sound, he met the Baronet just as he was approaching the entrance of
the Rookery. Sir Christopher's look was enough. Mr. Bates said nothing,
but hurried along by his side, while Rupert dashed forward among the dead
leaves with his nose to the ground. They had scarcely lost sight of him a
minute when a change in the tone of his bark told them that he had found
something, and in another instant he was leaping back over one of the
large planted mounds. They turned aside to ascend the mound, Rupert
leading them; the tumultuous cawing of the rooks, the very rustling of
the leaves, as their feet plunged among them, falling like an evil omen
on the Baronet's ear.

They had reached the summit of the mound, and had begun to descend. Sir
Christopher saw something purple down on the path below among the yellow
leaves. Rupert was already beside it, but Sir Christopher could not move
faster. A tremor had taken hold of the firm limbs. Rupert came back and
licked the tremblin