Angel softly put down the rabbit and gently stole to her side and looked up with her little face full of wondering sympathy.

Presently Marian began passing her hands slowly over her forehead, with a sort of unconscious self-mesmerism, and then she dropped them wearily upon her lap, and Angel saw how pallid was her face, how ashen and tremulous her lip, how quivering her hands.  But after a few seconds Marian stooped and picked the paper up and read the long, wonder-mongering affair, in which all that had been and all that had seemed, as well as many things could neither be nor seem, were related at length, or conjectured, or suggested.  It began by announcing the arrest of the Rev. Thurston Willcoxen upon the charge of murder, and then went back to the beginning and related the whole story, from the first disappearance of Marian Mayfield to the late discoveries that had led to the apprehension of the supposed murderer, with many additions and improvements gathered in the rolling of the ball of falsehood.  Among the rest, that the body of the unhappy young lady had been washed ashore several miles below the scene of her dreadful fate, and had been charitably interred by some poor fisherman.  The article concluded by describing the calm demeanor of the accused and the contemptuous manner in which he treated a charge so grave, scorning even to deny it.

“Oh, I do not wonder at the horror and consternation this matter has caused.  When the deed was attempted, more than the intended death wound didn’t overcome me!  And nothing, nothing in the universe but the evidence of my own senses could have convinced me of his purposed guilt!  And still I cannot realize it!  He must have been insane!  But he treats the discovery of his intended and supposed crime with scorn and contempt!  Alas! alas! is this the end of years of suffering and probation?  Is this the fruit of that long remorse, from which I had hoped so much for his redemption—­a remorse without repentance, and barren of reformation!  Yet I must save him.”

She arose and rang the bell, and gave orders to have two seats secured for her in the coach that would leave in the morning for Baltimore.  And then she began to walk up and down the floor, to try and walk off the excitement that was fast gaining upon her.

Before this night and this discovery, not for the world would Marian have made her existence known to him, far less would she have sought his presence.  Nay, deeming such a meeting improper as it was impossible, her mind had never contemplated it for an instant.  She had watched his course, sent anonymous donations to his charities, hoped much from his repentance and good works, but never hoped in any regard to herself.  But now it was absolutely necessary that she should make her existence known to him.  She would go to him!  She must save him!  She should see him, and speak to him—­him whom she had never hoped to meet again in life!  She would