A Moorland Legend. 1 1 1 



interesting on so exciting an occasion, and there would be 

 no doubt that the young fellow, overjoyed at the notice (so 

 often sighed for) bestowed upon him by the ladylike bar- 

 maid, was more communicative than is or should be usual 

 with his class. But even prison-warders, albeit they are 

 warders at Quickmoor, are very human, and Mr. Sullivan 

 was not the only uniform-wearing individual in that out-of- 

 the-way place who had long entertained a sneaking regard 

 for pale-faced Annie Western. 



The young lady, having obtained all the information 

 which appeared to interest her, disappeared from the room. 

 All present had observed a sudden change in her demeanour 

 when the alarm was first given. A face which is always 

 white as death cannot be said to turn pale, but there was an 

 indefinable change in Miss Western's countenance which 

 seemed to intensify the normal pallor, an ashiness of lip, 

 and a startled expression of the eye, which did not escape 

 the observation of those who knew her best. 



" I am afraid Miss Western is a trifle frightened over this," 

 remarked the prison official. 



" Dear heart, no," replied good Mrs. Preston, the motherly 

 landlady of the well-ordered homely inn, " she is often like 

 that." 



And so the matter dropped. 



By-and-by the fog lifted, and it was everywhere said that 

 the chances of the convicts were now small. Hapless 

 mortals ! their hour of liberty had been brief, though not so 

 bright as a butterfly's ! The pursuers — many, and on their 

 mettle — had been on the track from the first, and it required 

 only a clear atmosphere to put an end to the man-hunt. It 

 was not long before a horseman galloped past announcing a 

 capture ; then a carrier, urging his sorry hack into a dan- 

 gerous trot that he might be the first bearer of the good 



