Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. As he crossed this chamber, his foot struck against something on the floor, which nearly threw him down, and stooping to examine the object, he found it was a key. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. “And yet you still live, Butterfly. Do you hear me, Sir? Won't you stir!" "Not a step," replied Langley, gruffly.
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