darkness: and, for some reason unknown to me, the pure and
holy Lucy is their victim.'

'The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children,' she said.

'Who is her father?' asked I. 'Knowing as much as I do, I may surely
know more--know all. Tell me, I entreat you, madam, all that you can
conjecture respecting this demoniac persecution of one so good.'

'I will; but not now. I must go to Lucy now. Come this afternoon, I
will see you alone; and oh, sir! I will trust that you may yet find
some way to help us in our sore trouble!'

I was miserably exhausted by the swooning affright which had taken
possession of me. When I reached the inn, I staggered in like one
overcome by wine. I went to my own private room. It was some time
before I saw that the weekly post had come in, and brought me my
letters. There was one from my uncle, one from my home in Devonshire,
and one, re-directed over the first address, sealed with a great coat
of arms. It was from Sir Philip Tempest: my letter of inquiry
respecting Mary Fitzgerald had reached him at Liege, where it so
happened that the Count de la Tour d'Auvergne was quartered at the very
time. He remembered his wife's beautiful attendant; she had had high
words with the deceased countess, respecting her intercourse with an
English gentleman of good standing, who was also in the foreign
service. The countess augured evil of his intentions; while Mary, proud
and vehement, asserted that he would soon marry her, and resented her
mistress's warnings as an insult. The consequence was, that she had
left Madame de la Tour d'Auvergne's service, and, as the Count
believed, had gone to live with the Englishman; whether he had married
her, or not, he could not say. 'But,' added Sir Philip Tempest, 'you
may easily hear what particulars you wish to know respecting Mary
Fitzgerald from the Englishman himself, if, as I suspect, he is no
other than my neighbour and former acquaintance, Mr. Gisborne, of
Skipford Hall, in the West Riding. I am led to the belief that he is no
other by several small particulars, none of which are in themselves
conclusive, but which, taken together, make a mass of presumptive
evidence. As far as I could make out from the Count's foreign
pronunciation, Gisborne was the name of the Englishman: I know that
Gisborne of Skipford was abroad and in the foreign service at that
time--he was a likely fellow enough for such an exploit, and, above
all, certain expressions re