refuge. There was an hotel before her! But, unattended, heated,
disordered, to all appearance disreputable, what account could she
give of herself? That she had been followed by some one everybody
knew, and to whom everybody would listen! Feebly debating thus with
herself, she hurried along the pavement of Pine Street, with the
Abbey church before her.

The footsteps behind her grew louder and quicker: the man had made
up his mind and was coming up with her! He might be mad, or ready to
run all risks! Probably he knew his life at stake through her
perseverance and determination!

On came the footsteps, for the curate had indeed made up his mind to
speak to her, and either remove or certify his apprehensions. Nearer
yet and nearer they came. Her courage and strength were giving way
together, and she should be at his mercy. She darted into a shop,
sank on a chair by the counter, and begged for a glass of water. A
young woman ran to fetch it, while Mr. Drew went upstairs for a
glass of wine. Returning with it he came from behind the counter,
and approached the lady where she sat leaning her head upon it.

Meantime the curate also had entered the shop, and placed himself
where he might, unseen by her, await her departure, for he could not
speak to her there. He had her full in sight when Mr. Drew went up
to her.

"Do me the favour, madam," he said--but said no more. For at the
sound of his voice, the lady gave a violent start, and raising her
head looked at him. The wine-glass dropped from his hand. She gave a
half-choked cry, and sped from the shop.