ting her to rise; "you'll never be able to reach
Manchester."

"It matters not, Norris," replied Lady Trafford: "I would rather die on
the road, than be exposed to another such scene as I have just
encountered."

"Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. Norris. "I was afraid from the scream I
heard, that something dreadful had happened, Sir Rowland has a terrible
temper indeed--a shocking temper! I declare he frightens me out of my
senses."

"Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.

"Well that's no reason why he should treat your ladyship so shamefully,
I'm sure. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him
in order."

Lady Trafford sighed deeply.

"Your ladyship has never been well since you married Sir Cecil,"
rejoined Mrs. Norris. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got
over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm."

"Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently.

"Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by
the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run
for the ratifia and rosa solis."

"It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful
effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. Go and prepare for
our departure."

In less time than Hobson had mentioned, the carriage was announced. And
Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the
postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.

CHAPTER VIII.

Miching Mallecho.

Sir Rowland, meantime, paced his chamber with a quick and agitated step.
He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude
even to himself. Not conceiving that his sister--feeble as she was, and
yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed
or implied--would depart without consulting him, he was equally
surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to
the carriage. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere
with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge
that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain,
though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she
travelled by night. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died
away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him,
and he rang the bell violently.

"My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared.

The man