public-house even was closed; and of the only person
she could find, a bedridden old crone, she learned that no one was left.

"Only me, miss--only me. They wanted to carry me up too, but I wouldn't
let 'em."

Ada was in despair. Judging from his state of mind, Philip Norton could
have taken the direction of the marsh for no good purpose; he was not
likely to have gone there at such a time merely for the sake of the
walk, and the road soon became lost in dangerous, impassable quagmires,
pits, and treacherous morasses, thoroughly known only to the seekers for
pine roots and the diggers of peat. In the wild, half-mad condition in
which he then was, it would be suicidal to take such a course; and
feeling this, Ada's heart sank as she thought of the dangers that would
beset a man, reeling blindly about amidst tuft and moss, rush-bed, and
black peaty hole full of amber water, whose depths were unknown, save as
being the home of huge, slimy, serpent-like eels.

What should she do?--run up to the Castle for aid? It would take her a
quarter of an hour to get there, as long to return with help, even if
she found it directly; and in half an hour what might not have happened?

"Heaven grant me strength!" exclaimed the agitated girl; and fear
lending her wings, she darted along in the direction taken by Norton but
a few minutes before, her heart beating wildly, and an undefined dread
of something about to happen increasing in strength each moment.

The road wound about past the outlying cottages, so that it was some
time before she caught sight of Norton. Once she fancied that he must
have struck off to the right or left, or else she must before this have
overtaken him; but at the end of another hundred yards she could plainly
see him, a good half mile in advance, not reeling and staggering along
now, but walking swiftly, straight forward towards the marsh, when,
trembling with dread, Ada hurried on, following rapidly upon his track,
pausing not to think of imprudence, but led ever by the feeling that she
might be able to avert some terrible impending danger.

Where could he be going? What was his aim? Ada paused and shuddered as
she saw him suddenly stop by one of the black water-pits, the spots
favoured by the shooting fraternity in winter, as the resort of wild
goose, poachard, and divers of rapid flight. Her breath came more
easily, though, as she saw that her horrible dread was without
foundation, for Norton stru