CHAPTER IX. Since still my duty did my actions steer, I'll rather bear, than merit punishment. EARL OF ORRERY. FIVE days passed away, and the promise in Miss Vyvyan's postcript was not redeemed. On the sixth, Eustace and his friend drank tea at the cottage, in company with several originals of the village. The one our hero undertook was a very ugly girl, from whom he was relieved by the kindness of Lady Edward in inviting her to the piano: afterwards he joined Morton, who seemed to be diligently employed in mystifying a retired tobacconist. "And you say the young lady was a friend of Mrs. Franklin's?" were the first words which struck his ear. "A friend-yes, to be sure she is;—why she was staying here last summer nearly a month; and a very pretty little creature she is." "Indeed!—Mr. Thompson was mentioning a strange abduction, of which he has read an account in the 'Courier' of yesterday," said Morton to our hero. "An abduction!-not a successful one I hope?" "No, sir," said Mr. Thompson; "there is no instance of such atrocious doings succeeding." "Not one!" said Morton. "A particular friend of mine was fortunate enough to carry off a lady and marry her; but then she was the great aunt of the person whom he wished to secure." "It is very strange that the young men of this age should be so much wickeder than any that went before them," said Mr. Thompson. "It is perfectly unaccountable," said Morton. "To what cause can you attribute the horrible increase of juvenile depravity?" Why, sir, the reason seems to me pretty evident. While our boys spend their time upon those heathen mythologies, reading nothing from morning to night but how that wicked old villain-leader changed Vulcan into a swan, and flew off with her, and other stories just as bad, it is not won derful they should take to such practices as these when they grow up to be men.' I "That explanation never occurred to me," said Morton. "It clears up the whole mystery. see now why a taste for abductions has spread like a plague over the youth of our land. But you were mentioning some odd circumstances which had attended this one." "You may well call them odd-really, if we did not see them in the newspaper in black and white, it would be impossible to credit them. What do you think of the principal witness being carried off too?" "The man must be a wholesale abducer, indeed," said Eustace. "But how was that?" 66 Why, for a long time they did not sue out a warrant, because the chief witness was not to be found. Four days ago, two men came with a letter from him, in which he says that a girl of the town, who was sheltering the criminal, decoyed him into her house; that they then overpowered him, bound him with handkerchiefs, and left him there. The man says, naturally enough, that after such a transaction, he prefers keeping out of the way." "But does any one believe this?" said Morton. 66 Why, it sounds like as great a fabrication as ever was invented. But the men swear that they released him in the house which he mentions. The house is deserted, and there is proof that it was occupied but the day before; and, what is stronger still, they produce a handkerchief, which they took off the man's eyes, on which the name of the abducer is marked at full length." "Upon my word, these are strong facts!" said Eustace. "What has been done?" "A warrant has been granted against both the man and the girl; the master of the witness swearing that he believes his servant is prevented from appearing by bodily fear." "Are either of the criminals forthcoming?" said Morton. "At present, neither; but they think they have a clue to the girl's hiding-place." "The names were suppressed, I suppose?" said Eustace. "In most of the papers; but Miss Duncan's is written at full length in the Times,' and in one of the papers I saw that the abducer is said to be a Mr. Conway, of Grosvenor Place. The girl's is not given - I suppose she has half-a-dozen aliases." 66 Conway, of Grosvenor Place!" said Eustace; "he is a particular friend of mine. I cannot believe him guilty." Morton stared at this strange exclamation. There was nothing in our hero's look which interpreted it, so he thought it best to say, "Conway! -he is not that poor milk-sop I met at your house one evening last spring, is he?" "I dare say you thought him so.” "He an abducer!" said Morton; "I should think he spent his whole day in cracking bad walnuts and drinking Cape wine." As they walked home, Eustace gave his friend the true version of the circumstance, which had turned out so unfortunately. Morton was evidently very much interested. He said that he remembered the girl at Lady Edward's: she was rather a striking person; but he did not seem anxious to dwell upon the subject, and he asked Eustace hastily, what he meant to do now. "Of that you shall hear more to-morrow," our hero. " said When he acknowledged his acquaintance with Mr. Conway, he had already taken his resolution. His peril was greater than ever, but honour and gratitude bound him to rescue Francisca from the danger which threatened her. He determined to surrender. Early the next morning, before his friend was up, he walked to the cottage. He had heard Lady Edward say that she was |