belonged to you, sweet lady. There. Bless you—God bless you. Good night, good night."
The violent agitation of the girl, and the apprehension of some discovery which would subject her to ill-usage and violence, seemed to determine the gentleman to leave her as she requested. The sound of retreating footsteps were audible, and the voices ceased.
The two figures of the young lady and her companion soon afterwards appeared upon the bridge. They stopped at the summit of the stairs.
"Hark!" cried the young lady, listening. "Did she call! I thought I heard her voice."
"No, my love," replied Mr. Brownlow, looking sadly back. "She has not moved, and will not till we are gone."
Rose Maylie lingered, but the old gentleman drew her arm through his, and led her with gentle force away. As they disappeared, the girl sunk down nearly at her full length upon one of the stone stairs, and vented the anguish of her heart in bitter tears.
