to save him who—but let the virtue of the child atone for his faults—What can be done? Time presses—I know—but one remedy with four-and-twenty hours I might find many—Miss Vere, you must implore the protection of the only human being who has it in his power to controul the course of events which threatens to hurry you before it."
"And what human being," answered Miss Vere, "has such power?"
"Stare not when I name him," said Ratcliffe, coming near her, and speaking in a low but distinct voice. "It is he who is called Eishender the Recluse of Mucklestane-Moor."
"You are mad, Mr Ratcliffe, or you mean to insult my misery by an ill-timed jest!"
"I am as much in my senses, young lady, as you are; and I am no idle jester, far less with misery, least of all with your misery. I swear to you that this being (who is other far than what he seems) ac-
