“Back!” cried Solomon Eagle, pushing him forcibly aside.  “Back!”

“What do you here?” cried Rochester, fiercely.

“I am watching over the death-bed of your victim,” returned Solomon Eagle.  “Retire, my lord.  You disturb her.”

“Oh, no,” returned Amabel, meekly.  “Let him come near me.”  And as Solomon Eagle drew a little aside, and allowed the earl to approach, she added, “With my latest breath I forgive you, my lord, for the wrong you have done me, and bless you.”

The earl tried to speak, but his voice was suffocated by emotion.  As soon as he could find words, he said, “Your goodness completely overpowers me, dearest Amabel.  Heaven is my witness, that even now I would make you all the reparation in my power were it needful.  But it is not so.  The wrong I intended you was never committed.  I myself was deceived.  I intended a feigned marriage, but it was rightfully performed.  Time will not allow me to enter into further particulars of the unhappy transaction, but you may credit my assertion when I tell you you are indeed my wife, and Countess of Rochester.”

“If I thought so, I should die happy,” replied Amabel.

“Behold this proof!” said Rochester, producing the certificate.

“I cannot read it,” replied Amabel.  “But you could not have the heart to deceive me now.”

“I will read it, and you well know I would not deceive you,” cried Solomon Eagle, casting his eye over it—­“His lordship has avouched the truth,” he continued.  “It is a certificate of your marriage with him, duly signed and attested.”

“God be thanked,” ejaculated Amabel, fervently.  “God be thanked!  You have been spared that guilt, and I shall die content.”

“I trust your life will long be spared,” rejoined the earl.  Amabel shook her head.

“There is but one man in this city who could save her,” whispered Solomon Eagle, and I doubt even his power to do so.’

“Who do you mean?” cried Rochester, eagerly.

“Doctor Hodges,” replied the enthusiast.

“I know him well,” cried the earl.  “I will fly to him instantly.  Remain with her till I return.”

“My lord—­my dear lord,” interposed Amabel, faintly, “you trouble yourself needlessly.  I am past all human aid.”

“Do not despair,” replied the earl.  “Many years of happiness are, I trust, in store for us.  Do not detain me.  I go to save you.  Farewell for a short time.”

“Farewell, for ever, my lord,” she said, gently pressing his hand.  “We shall not meet again.  Your name will be coupled with my latest breath.”

“I shall be completely unmanned if I stay here a moment longer,” cried the earl, breaking from her, and rushing out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Amabel addressed herself once more to prayer with Solomon Eagle, and in this way an hour passed by.  The earl not returning at the end of that time, Solomon Eagle became extremely uneasy, every moment being of the utmost consequence, and summoning Mrs. Batley, committed the patient to her care, and set off in search of Hodges.  He hastened to the doctor’s house—­he was absent—­to Saint Paul’s—­he was not there, but he learnt that a person answering to the earl’s description had been making similar inquiries after him.