the patient at plas ylwd.
got home just as the last broad beam of the setting sun was spent, and twilight over-spread churchyard and manor-house, sea and land, with its grey mantle. Lights were gleaming from the drawing-room window as I approached; a very welcome light to me, for it told me that Laura Grey had come down, and I was longing to tell her my story. I found her, as I expected, seated quietly at our tea-table, and saw, in her surprised and eager looks, how much she was struck by the excitement which mine exhibited, as, without waiting to take off my hat or coat, I called on her to listen, and stumbled and hurried through the opening of my strange story.
I had hardly mentioned the sudden appearance of Mr. Marston, when Laura Grey rose with her hands clasped:
"Was any one shot? For God's sake, tell me quickly!"
I described all I had seen. She pressed her hand hard to her heart.
"Oh! he has killed him—the villain! His threats are always true—his promises never. Oh! Ethel, darling, he has been so near me, and I never dreamed it."
"Who? What is it, Laura? Don't, darling, be so frightened; he's not killed—nobody's killed. I daresay it is very trifling, and Doctor Mervyn is with him by this time."
"I am sure he's badly wounded; he has killed him. He has hated him so long, he would never have left him till he had killed him."
She was growing quite distracted; I, all the time, doing my utmost to re-assure her.