yards nearer to Somerset House than he was. He darted along the other side of the street to that which she took, crossed it, and met her just at the corner of Wellington Street, before she observed him. She started with far more terror than before, and said, almost with a shriek,-" Are you there again ?"

"Are we friends?" said Eustace, joining her; "at any rate we are wanderers. In which direction are you going?"

"I am going home," said the girl.

"Home!-have you a home? I had forgotten there was such a word in the language. But have we not met before?"

"You had forgotten there was such a word?" said the girl, eyeing him intently.

"Nearly:-I do not happen to have one at present, and it is not likely I shall again. I am glad to find that you are more fortunate.”

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My speech may tell you that there is no home for me here," said the girl.

"That charmed me the first moment you opened your lips. Oh! it is delightful to meet one who has breathed some purer air than that of this English pest-house."

"The air is not very close here," said the girl, pulling her cloak round her ;-" but I like it." "Do you, and the storm ?"

"It suits me very well."

"I knew we should be good society," said Conway. "But yet," he added, in a compassionate voice, "I had rather that I were the only person whom it suited. I should be supremely happy to-night, if there were not beings around me made of the same clay with myself; and some of them," he added, looking at his companion, "graceful and lovely, whom my heart bleeds to think of."

"Leave me, sir; you cannot accompany me where I am going," she said, looking down. He was struck by the tones of her voice.

"I am in a strange mood to-night,” he said; "but I never felt less inclined to harm a living creature. Yet if you heard my story, you would know that I had been rather hardly treated by Fortune, and by my fellow-creatures too."

"One that has friends to care for him need not talk of hard treatment."

"I have not one that will care for me to-morrow morning; or but one!"

"The love of that one will support you.

not change it for any thing on earth.”

Eustace started. "Merciful heaven!" he exclaimed, "why did you remind me of that?-I thought I was happy till now!”

The girl stood still, and looked into his face.

"Are you really banished from home?" she said.

"Is not your name ?"

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My name is of no consequence, but listen to me. I am not here for the reasons which you impute to me; and if you had addressed me in the language I expected, I should have left you to more suitable companions. In the house where I lived yesterday, lies the corpse of my father. You will judge whether the invitation I am going to give you is of the same kind with others which you may have received this night. If you are seeking for shelter from any pursuers, you shall have it there, for the sake of that love which you believe you have lost."

"I see it all!" exclaimed Eustace; "in her name I accept your kind, generous offer; and ber lieve this by what name shall I call you?--that whatever Honoria may think of me, her affection for you is unchanged."

The girl burst into tears.

"The house," she said, " is in the New Road; we must turn away from this street."

Eustace was about to ask why she had told him that she was on her way home, when they first met; but another thought interrupted it.

"I am very wrong, Francisca," he said; "may I venture to call my sister's friend by so familiar

a name?-you will be harbouring one who is accused of a dreadful crime."

"Answer me one question frankly; it will make no difference in my resolution-Are you guilty of it?"

Upon my honour I am not.
"Thank you. Let us proceed."

"I must not."

"God orders it," said the girl, with tremendous energy, "and you cannot resist."

He followed her as if he were spell-bound.

They reached a small neat house in the New Road. Francisca opened the door, and went in softly.

"There is only one living person in the house,” she said "a boy: he is asleep up-stairs. This shall be your room." She led him into a neat apartment on the ground-floor, in which was a

bed.

"I shall spend the night with my father." "With your father?"

"Is a dead friend nothing, when all the living have deserted us?"

When she was gone, Conway threw himself on the bed, and, in spite of his strange situation, slept for several hours.

CHAPTER IV.

Those that are betray'd

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor

Stands in worse case of woe.

SHAKSPEARE.

WHEN Francisca returned the next morning, her eyes were swollen with weeping, but her first thoughts were of her guest.

"This will be a safe place for you to stay in," she said, "as the shutters are closed, and there is no woman in the house except myself.”

"Thank you, my kind friend; I will accept your hospitality for this one day in the evening I will leave London."

"Have you any acquaintances to whom you can go?"

"None of whom I dare ask the kindness I am now receiving from you."