No

nical phrase, to explain the state of the case. limbs were broken, but there was still great cause for alarm. Captain Murray was so bruised by being dragged, that it was next to impossible to say, till the morrow, what the extent of the injuries he had received might be. Concussion of the brain was the least apparent evil, the greater, the fracture of the ribs on both sides. This last did not at first sound alarming, till Mr. White went on to say that he much feared some injury had already been inflicted on the lungs by the sharp ends of the broken bones. A London physician, in the same circumstances, would have kept his own counsel, till the result was more certain; but Mr. White could not restrain the outpourings of his anxiety, and he talked of consumption, and shook his head ominously, as he added he hoped Captain Murray might not suffer eventually.

At the foot of the stairs they met Herbert, who begged his sister to go and inquire, in person, as to the welfare of Lady Louis Crichton.

He need not have been anxious. Lady Louis had quite recovered the shock to her nerves, and perfectly understood making herself comfortable. She had dispatched her maid to forage for her, and her dinner had that moment been served; and while

she was answering her questions, and giving all the particulars she knew, Maud had the satisfaction of seeing her make an excellent repast, and discuss, not only successive courses, but a due proportion of wine. She would fain have induced Miss Bingley to eat and drink also, but Maud was too excited to sit down, and too anxious to feel anything but an intense loathing for food. She never liked Lady Louis so little as at that moment; her personal attractions all seemed to have paled under the influence of her cold egotism, while the very careless déshabille in which she was indulging, marred all her pretensions to beauty; for even at that moment, Maud could not help noticing the effect of the soiled and tumbled dressing-gown; it assorted so strangely with the jewelled hands and arms, the light fresh dress which had been cast aside, and the still more gorgeous evening toilet, which was spread out upon the bed. Lady Louis was almost repulsive to her when she began coolly to discuss the chances of Julian's life and death, and to talk as though his dying would be quite an every-day event.

Maud was not sorry to be summoned to speak to her brother in the dining-room. It gave her an excuse for quitting an uncongenial atmosphere.

Colonel Kennedy, Sir George Vanston, Mr. Grey, were all there. A few dishes had been put down at one end of the long table, for, till we die, we daily dine. Herbert bade his sister sit down, and one of the other gentlemen pushed one of the great scarlet leather arm-chairs, which usually stood by the fire, up to the table for her.

The reaction had brought a brilliant colour to Maud's cheeks, her eyes were bright and glistening, and, owing little to art, she did not look the worse that her bonnet had been hastily cast aside, and her hair thereby somewhat disordered.

Very little was said. Everyone spoke in subdued, quiet tones. Colonel Kennedy was utterly silenced; he did not eat a thing, but poured out and drank glass after glass of wine.

Herbert, with a glance at the door, which led to it, told his sister Mr. Murray was shut up in his study. He would not come forth, and it was with difficulty he had been persuaded to listen to him, when he brought him the tidings, that they might hope. He studiously refused to go and see Julian. Colonel Kennedy, and himself were going to sit up that night.

Sir George Vanston said, as he could be of no use, he should go back to town on the morrow.

And the phlegmatic Mr. Grey remarked, speaking for the first time, that, though he supposed he must put up at Windsor to see the races out, his pleasure was spoilt. He should not get it out of

his head just yet.

He did not say what troubled his opaque mind. No one-like the soft, luxurious, fashionable Lady Louis-discussed the accident, or anticipated its result; and Maud went up stairs, comforted and reassured, if not altogether consoled.

CHAPTER XIII.

"The air is damp, and hush'd, and close,
As a sick man's room, when he taketh repose
An hour before death."

TENNYSON.

"Man,' say our sages, hath a fickle mind,
And pleasures pall, if long enjoy'd they be.
But I, methinks, like this soft summer day,

'Mid bloom and sweets could wear the hours away.""

King Arthur.

HE house was early astir the next morning, and, before she was dressed, Herbert came to his sister's door with a very downcast face, and anything

but cheerful tidings.

Julian had passed a very feverish and restless night. Yesterday they thought he knew those about him, at least at times; to-day every glimmering of consciousness had departed, and it was quite pitiful to hear his moans. Mr. Murray had