ngled a hatred of the vile
man who had insulted her, which would have half killed him had it been
possible for him to know and realize it.

After her first passion had passed away, the question concerning her
future came up for settlement. She could not possibly remain near Mr.
Belcher. She must not be exposed to further visits from him. The thought
that in the little account-book which she had copied there was a record
that covered a design for her own destruction, stung her to the quick.
What should she do? She would consult Mr. Balfour.

She knew that on that evening Mr. Belcher would not be at home, that
after the excitements and disappointments of that day he would seek for
solace in any place but that which held his wife and children. So,
muffled in a slight disguise, and followed by her servant, she stole out
of her house during the evening, and sought the house of the lawyer. To
him she poured out her heart. To him she revealed all that had passed
between her and the proprietor, and to him she committed the care of the
precious document of which she had possessed herself, and the little
note that accompanied it.

Mr. Balfour advised her to leave the city at once, and to go to some
place where Mr. Belcher would not be able to find her. He knew of no
place so fit for her in every respect as Number Nine, with his own
family and those most dear to her. Her boy and his father were there; it
was health's own home; and she could remain away as long as it might be
necessary. She would be wanted as a witness in a few months, at
furthest, in a suit which he believed would leave her persecutor in a
position where, forgetting others, he would be absorbed in the effort to
take care of himself.

Her determination was taken at once. Mr. Balfour accompanied her home,
and gave her all the necessary directions for her journey; and that
night she packed a single trunk in readiness for it. In the morning,
leaving her house to the care of trusty servants, she rode to the
station, while Mr. Belcher was lolling feverishly in his bed, and in an
hour was flying northward toward the place that was to be her summer
home, and into a region that was destined to be associated with her
future life, through changes and revolutions of which she did not dream.

After her thirty-six hours of patient and fatiguing travel the company
at Jim Fenton's hotel, eager for letters from the city, stood on the
bank of the river, waiting the arrival of