MISS HILDRETH.

A Novel.

BY A. DE GRASSE STEVENS,

AUTHOR OF "OLD BOSTON," "THE LOST DAUPHIN,"
"WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE," ETC.

In Three Volumes.
VOL. III.

LONDON:
WARD AND DOWNEY,
12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C.
1888.

[All rights reserved.]

Copyright by A. de Grasse Stevens, 1888.

CONTENTS.

MISS HILDRETH.

CHAPTER I.

A VIGIL.

The news of Patricia Hildreth's arrest on a criminal warrant had flown like wild-fire throughout society. Mr. Tremain found himself almost the only one of his world not cognisant of the facts from the beginning; and as he listened to one garbled statement after another, coloured according to the narrator's fancy, he cursed the evil fortune and his own selfishness, that had kept him so effectually out of the way, and made him play so blindly into the enemies' hands.

He knew very well that had he been at home, or allowed his letters and papers to be forwarded to him, matters would never have reached so serious a pass; but shutting himself away as he had done from all outside communication, there had been no one at hand to avert the blow as it fell, or to force a more definite showing from the attacking parties, before the extreme measure of arrest was put into execution.

Esther Newbold's absence, and the uncertain movements of the Deerhound, had proved an additional disaster for Patricia. It was only on the yacht putting in at New London, that Esther heard of her friend's trouble. A flaming poster outside the hotel had caught Mrs. Newbold's attention as she sauntered along the planked side-walk with Miss Darling, and the next moment they were both reading with horrified comprehension the bold sensational headings:

"Arrest of Miss Hildreth. Further developments expected shortly. Miss Hildreth's appearance in Ludlow Street, etc., etc."

These were the lines, in staring red letters, that first greeted Esther on her landing, after a three weeks' cruise; and their effect upon her can better be imagined than described. She was, however, essentially a person of action, and not an hour had passed before she, her husband, and Dick Darling, were on their way to New York, leaving the yacht and its guests to dispose of themselves.

That Patricia should be in such dire trouble, and alone, struck Esther as something so preposterous as to be almost incredible. Patricia, who counted her lovers and admirers by the score; who was always triumphant and victorious and worshipped wherever she appeared; whose smile was a reward highly coveted; whose favour was a prize eagerly courted—to be in prison, arrested on some crime too horrible even to be named. Alone; subjected to indignities and privations whose very meaning had been hitherto unknown to her easy, luxurious existence.

"Ah, do let us get to her at once," Esther had cried, imploringly, after she had poured out all the horrible story in George Newbold's astonished ears. "Only to think of her in that dreadful place; how she must suffer! And in this weather too, so hot and breathless as it is; and we never knowing all the time, but enjoying ourselves like brutes and heathens! Oh, Patricia, Patricia, is this what your wilfulness has brought you to? Oh, George, do make haste; and to think what a viper we entertained in that dreadful Count Mellikoff!"

"Well, he certainly hasn't turned out an angel," answered George, in his slow fashion. "For once, my