Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her. “Pump, pump, per-um-pump, Pum, Pump, Per-um. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. ‘I will fight to the death, if it needs. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. . Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot.
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