tones like a serpent's hiss.

"Not dead, Sir Jasper Kingsland! No thanks to you for it!
Murderer--as much a murderer as if you had cut her throat--look on her,
and be proud of the ruin you have wrought!"

"Silence, woman!" Mr. Green ordered, imperiously. "We will have none
of your mad recriminations here. She is not dead, Sir Jasper, but she
is dying, I think. This young woman wishes to remove her--whither, I
know not--but it is simply impossible. That unfortunate creature will
not be alive when to-morrow dawns."

"What do you propose doing with her?" the baronet asked, steadily.

"We will convey her to the sexton's house--it is very near. I have
sent Dawson for a stretcher; he and Humphreys will carry her. This
young woman declines to give her name, or tell who she is, or where she
lives."

"Where I live is no affair of yours, if I can not take my mother
there," the young woman answered, sullenly. "Who I am, you know. I
told you I am this woman's daughter."

"And a gypsy, I take it?" said Mr. Green.

"You guess well, sir, but only half the truth. Half gypsy I am, and
half gentlewoman. A mongrel, I suppose, that makes; and yet it is well
to have good blood in one's veins, even on the father's side."

There was a sneering emphasis in her words, and the snaky black eyes