The belated traveller was Reynard; and another had stepped in before
him.

You may now be willing to know of the fortunes of Miss Betty. Left
much to herself through the intervening days, she had ample time to
brood over her desperate attempt at the stratagem of infection--
thwarted, apparently, by her mother's promptitude. In what other
way to gain time she could not think. Thus drew on the day and the
hour of the evening on which her husband was expected to announce
himself.

At some period after dark, when she could not tell, a tap at the
window, twice and thrice repeated, became audible. It caused her to
start up, for the only visitant in her mind was the one whose
advances she had so feared as to risk health and life to repel them.
She crept to the window, and heard a whisper without.

'It is I--Charley,' said the voice.

Betty's face fired with excitement. She had latterly begun to doubt
her admirer's staunchness, fancying his love to be going off in mere
attentions which neither committed him nor herself very deeply. She
opened the window, saying in a joyous whisper, 'Oh Charley; I
thought you had deserted me quite!'

He assured her he had not done that, and that he had a horse in
waiting, if she would ride off with him. 'You must come quickly,'
he said; 'for Reynard's on the way!'

To throw a cloak round herself was the work of a moment, and