scarcely could she find voice to ask a question, which her own fears answered. An old domestic came forward; she knew him at once, he had lived for years with her uncle: she clasped her hands, her lips moved, but no sound came from them.
"Madam," said the man, "we have ordered the travelling-carriage; I trust you will yet be in time to see my master."
Lady Marchmont neither shrieked nor fainted, though lip and cheek blanched to the most deadly whiteness.
"In time to see him!" muttered she; and her hollow whisper seemed to reverberate through the hall. "Where is the carriage?" said she, hurrying to the door.
"Won't your ladyship change your dress?" asked her favourite maid, who stood ready prepared for the journey.
"No," exclaimed Henrietta, opening the hall door herself, and hurrying down the steps, where the carriage stood waiting: "tell the postilions to drive for life and death!" ex-
