SECURE as I tried to feel in my change of costume, my croppedhair, and my whiskerless cheeks, I kept well away from thecoach-window, when the dinner at the inn was over and thepassengers were called to take their places again. Thusfar--thanks to the strength of my grasp on his neck, which hadleft him too weak to be an outside passenger--Screw had certainlynot seen me; and, if I played my cards properly, there was noreason why he should see me before we got to our destination.

Throughout the rest of the journey I observed the strictestcaution, and fortune seconded my efforts. It was dark when we gotto Shrewsbury. On leaving the coach I was enabled, under cover ofthe night, to keep a sharp watch on the proceedings of Screw andhis Bow Street ally. They did not put up at the hotel, but walkedaway to a public house. There, my clerical character obliged meto leave them at the door.

I returned to the hotel, to make inquiries about conveyances.

The answers informed me that Crickgelly was a littlefishing-village, and that there was no coach direct to it, butthat two coaches running to two small Welsh towns situated atnearly equal distances from my destination, on either side of it,would pass through Shrewsbury the next morning. The waiter added,that I could book a place--conditionally--by either of thesevehicles; and that, as they were always well-filled, I had betterbe quick in making my choice between them. Matters had nowarrived at such a pass, that nothing was left for me but to trustto chance. If I waited till the morning to see whether Screw andthe Bow Street runner traveled in my direction, and to find out,in case they did, which coach they took, I should be running therisk of losing a place for myself, and so delaying my journey foranother day. This was not to be thought of. I told the waiter tobook me a place in which coach he pleased. The two were calledrespectively The Humming Bee, and The Red Cross Knight. Thewaiter chose the latter.

Sleep was not much in my way that night. I rose almost as earlyas Boots himself--breakfasted--then sat at the coffee-room windowlooking out anxiously for the two coaches.

Nobody seemed to agree which would pass first. Each of the innservants of whom I inquired made it a matter of partisanship, andbacked his favorite coach with the most consummate assurance. Atlast, I heard the guard's horn and the clatter of the horses'hoofs. Up drove a coach--I looked out cautiously--it was theHumming Bee. Three outside places were vacant; one behind thecoachman; two on the dickey. The first was taken immediately by afarmer, the second---to my unspeakable disgust and terror--wassecured by the inevitable Bow Street runner; who, as soon as h ewas up, helped the weakly Screw into the third place, by hisside. They were going to Crickgelly; not a doubt of it, now.

I grew mad with impatience for the arrival of the Red CrossKnight. Half-an-hour passed--forty minutes--and then I heardanother horn and another clatter--and the Red Cross Knightrattled up to the hotel door at full speed. What if there shouldbe no vacant place for me! I ran to the door with a sinkingheart. Outside, the coach was declared to be full.

"There is one inside place," said the waiter, "if you don't mindpaying the--"

Before he could say the rest, I was occupying that one insideplace. I remember nothing of the journey from the time we leftthe hotel door, except that it was fearfully long. At some hourof the day with which I was not acquainted (for my watch hadstopped for want of winding up), I was set down in a clean littlestreet of a prim little town (the name of which I never thoughtof asking), and was told that the coach never went any further.

No post-chaise was to be had. With incredible difficulty I gotfirst a gig, then a man to drive it; and, last, a pony to drawit. We hobbled away crazily from the inn door. I thought of Screwand the Bow Street runner approaching Crickgelly, from theirpoint of the compass, perhaps at the full speed of a goodpost-chaise--I thought of that, and would have given all themoney in my pocket for two hours' use of a fast road-hack.

Judging by the time we occupied in making the journey, and alittle also by my own impatience, I should say that Crickgellymust have been at least twenty miles distant from the town whereI took the gig. The sun was setting, when we first heard, throughthe evening stillness, the sound of the surf on the seashore. Thetwilight was falling as we entered the little fishing village,and let our unfortunate pony stop, for the last time, at a smallinn door.

The first question I asked of the landlord was, whether twogentlemen (friends of mine, of course, whom I expected to meet)had driven into Crickgelly, a little while before me. The replywas in the negative; and the sense of relief it produced seemedto rest me at once, body and mind, after my long and anxiousjourney. Either I had beaten the spies on the road, or they werenot bound to Crickgelly. Any way, I had first possession of thefield of action. I paid the man who had driven me, and asked myway to Zion Place. My directions were simple--I had only to gothrough the village, and I should find Zion Place at the otherend of it.

The village had a very strong smell, and a curious habit ofbuilding boats in the street between intervals of detachedcottages; a helpless, muddy, fishy little place. I walked throughit rapidly; turned inland a few hundred yards; ascended somerising ground; and discerned, in the dim twilight, four smalllonesome villas standing in pairs, with a shed and a saw-pit onone side, and a few shells of unfinished houses on the other.Some madly speculative builder was evidently trying to turnCrickgelly into a watering-place.

I made out Number Two, and discovered the bell-handle withdifficulty, it was growing so dark. A servant-maid--corporeallyenormous; but, as I soon found, in a totally undeveloped state,mentally--opened the door.

"Does Miss Giles live here?" I asked.

"Don't see no visitors," answered the large maiden. "'T'other onetried it and had to go away. You go, too."

"'T'othor one?" I repeated. "Another visitor? And when did hecall?"

"Better than an hour ago."

"Was there nobody with him?"

"No. Don't see no visitors. He went. You go, too "

Just as she repeated that exasperating formula of words, a dooropened at the end of the passage. My voice had evidently reachedthe ears of somebody in the back parlor. Who the person was Icould not see, but I heard the rustle of a woman's dress. Mysituation was growing desperate, my suspicions were aroused--Idetermined to risk everything--and I called softly in thedirection of the open door, "Alicia!"

A voice answered, "Good heavens! Frank?" It was

She was there, standing alone by the side of a table. Seeing mychanged costume and altered face, she turned deadly pale, andstretched her hand behind her mechanically, as if to take hold ofa chair. I caught her in my arms; but I was afraid to kissher--she trembled so when I only touched her.

"Frank!" she said, drawing her head back. "What is it? How didyou find out? For mercy's sake what does it mean?"

"It means, love, that I've come to take care of you for the restof your life and mine, if you will only let me. Don'ttremble--there's nothing to be afraid of! Only compose yourself,and I'll tell you why I am here in this strange disguise. Come,come, Alicia!--don't look like that at me. You called me Frankjust now, for the first time. Would you have done that, if youhad disliked me or forgotten me?"

I saw her color beginning to come back--the old bright glowreturning to the dear dusky cheeks. If I had not seen them sonear me, I might have exercised some self-control--as it was, Ilost my presence of mind entirely, and kissed her.

She drew herself away half-frightened, half-confused--certainlynot offended, and, apparently, not very likely to faint--whichwas more than I could have said of her when I first entered theroom. Before she had time to reflect on the peril and awkwardnessof our position, I pressed the first necessary questions on herrapidly, one after the other.

"Where is Mrs. Baggs?" I asked first.

Mrs. Baggs was the housekeeper.

Alicia pointed to the closed folding-doors. "In the front parlor;asleep on the sofa."

"Have you any suspicion who the stranger was who called more thanan hour ago?"

"None. The servant told him we saw no visitors, and he went away,without leaving his name."

"Have you heard from your father?"

She began to turn pale again, but controlled herself bravely, andanswered in a whisper:

"Mrs. Baggs had a short note from him this morning. It was notdated; and it only said circumstances had happened which obligedhim to leave home suddenly, and that we were to wait here till bewrote again, most likely in a few days."

"Now, Alicia," I said, as lightly as I could, "I have the highestpossible opinion of your courage, good-sense, and self-control;and I shall expect you to keep up your reputation in my eyes,while you are listening to what I have to tell you."

Saying these words, I took her by the hand and made her sit closeby me; then, breaking it to her as gently and gradually aspossible, I told her all that had happened at the red-brick housesince the evening when she left the dinner-table, and weexchanged our parting look at the dining-room door.

It was almost as great a trial to me to speak as it was to her tohear. She suffered so violently, felt such evident misery ofshame and terror, while I was relating the strange events whichhad occurred in her absence, that I once or twice stopped inalarm, and almost repented my boldness in telling her the truth.However, fair-dealing with her, cruel as it might seem at thetime, was the best and safest course for the future. How could Iexpect her to put all her trust in me if I began by deceivingher--if I fell into prevarications and excuses at the very outsetof our renewal of intercourse? I went on desperately to the end,taking a hopeful view of the most hopeless circumstances, andmaking my narrative as mercifully short as possible.

When I had done, the poor girl, in the extremity of herforlornness and distress, forgot all the little maidenlyconventionalities and young-lady-like restraints of everydaylife--and, in a burst of natural grief and honest confidinghelplessness, hid her face on my bosom, and cried there as if shewere a child again, and I was the mother to whom she had beenused to look for comfort.

I made no attempt to stop her tears--they were the safest andbest vent for the violent agitation under which she wassuffering. I said nothing; words, at such a ti me as that, wouldonly have aggravated her distress. All the questions I had toask; all the proposals I had to make, must, I felt, be putoff--no matter at what risk--until some later and clamer hour.There we sat together, with one long unsnuffed candle lighting ussmokily; with the discordantly-grotesque sound of thehousekeeper's snoring in the front room, mingling with the sobsof the weeping girl on my bosom. No other noise, great or small,inside the house or out of it, was audible. The summer nightlooked black and cloudy through the little back window.

I was not much easier in my mind, now that the trial of breakingmy bad news to Alicia was over. That stranger who had called atthe house an hour before me, weighed on my spirits. It could nothave been Doctor Dulcifer. He would have gained admission. Couldit be the Bow Street runner, or Screw? I had lost sight of them,it is true; but had they lost sight of me?

Alicia's grief gradually exhausted itself. She feebly raised herhead, and, turning it away from me, hid her face. I saw that shewas not fit for talking yet, and begged her to go upstairs to thedrawing-room and lie down a little. She looked apprehensivelytoward the folding-doors that shut us off from the front parlor.

"Leave Mrs. Baggs to me," I said. "I want to have a few wordswith her; and, as soon as you are gone, I'll make noise enoughhere to wake her."

Alicia looked at me inquiringly and amazedly. I did not speakagain. Time was now of terrible importance to us--I gently ledher to the door.