ady's
retreat,--a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's
Fields in Southwark. Refused admittance, they broke open the door.
Aliva's husband, who passed by the name of Darrell, confronted them
sword in hand. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. But, urged by his
wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's
life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from
the back of the premises. Rowland and his companions instantly started
in pursuit, leaving the lady to recover as she might. They tracked the
fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all
scent of their prey. Meantime, the lady had overtaken them; but,
terrified by the menaces of her vindictive kinsmen, she did not dare to
reveal herself to her husband, of whose concealment on the roof of the
very house the party were searching she was aware. Aided by an
individual, who was acquainted with a secret outlet from the tenement,
Darrell escaped. Before his departure, he gave his assistant a glove.
That glove is still preserved. In her endeavour to follow him, Aliva met
with a severe fall, and was conveyed away, in a state of insensibility,
by Sir Cecil. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the
accident, though she never regained her strength. Directed by the same
individual, who had helped Darrell to steal a march upon him, Rowland,
with Davies, and another attendant, continued the pursuit. Both the
fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames. The elements were
wrathful as their passions. The storm burst upon them in its fury.
Unmindful of the terrors of the night, unscared by the danger that
threatened him, Rowland consigned his sister's husband and his sister's
child to the waves."

"Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to
the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear.

"I have nearly done," replied the stranger.--"As Rowland's whole crew
perished in the tempest, and he only escaped by miracle, he fancied
himself free from detection. And for twelve years he has been so; until
his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has
bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. During this period
Sir Montacute has been gathered to his fathers. His title has descended
to Rowland: his estates to Aliva. The latter has, since, been induced to
unite herself to Sir Cecil, on terms originating with her brother, and
wh