trouble."

"No, sir," she replied, sharply; "though in life my enemy, her remains shall never be given up to the dissecting-knife. I have not forgotten she is a gentleman's daughter, and as such she shall be interred. Now you may go. Wrap the child in this, and—return without her!"

"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Doctor Wiseman, catching the infection of her reckless spirit. He stooped and raised the infant, who was still in a deep sleep.

Muffling it carefully in the shawl, he followed the lady from the room, and cautiously quitted the house.

The storm had now passed away; the piercing wind had died out, and the midnight moon sailed in unclouded majesty through the deep blue sky, studded with myriads of burning stars.

The cool night air restored him completely to himself.

Holding the still sleeping infant closer in his arms, he hurried on, until he stood on the sloping bank commanding a view of the bay.

The tide was rising. The waves came splashing in on the beach—the white foam gleaming coldly brilliant in the moonlight. The waters beyond looked cold, and sluggish, and dark—moaning in a strange, dreary way as they swept over the rocks. How could he commit the slumbering infant to those merciless waves? Depraved and guilty as he was, he hesitated. It lay so confidingly in his arms, slumbering so sweetly, that his heart smote him. Yet it must be done.

He descended carefully to the beach, and laying his living bundle on the snowy sands, stood like Hagar, a distance off, to see it die.

In less than ten minutes, he knew, the waves would have washed it far away.

As he stood, with set teeth and folded arms, the merry jingle of approaching sleigh-bells broke upon his startled ear. They were evidently approaching the place where he stood. Moved by a sudden impulse of terror, he turned and fled from the spot.

Guilt is ever cowardly. He sped on, scarcely knowing whither he went, until in his blind haste he ran against a watchman.

The unexpected shock sent both rolling over in the snow, which considerably cooled the fever in Doctor Wiseman's blood. The indignant "guardian of night," with an exclamation which wouldn't look well in print, laid hold of the doctor's collar. But there was vigor in Doctor Wiseman's dwarfed body, and strength in his long, lean arms; and with a violent effort he wrenched himself free from the policeman's tenacious grasp, and fled.

"Charley" started in pursuit, and seeing he would soon be overtaken, the doctor suddenly darted into the high, dark portico of an imposing-looking house, and soon had the satisfaction of beholding the angry watchman tear past like a comet, in full pursuit.

CHAPTER III.

THE ASTROLOGER.