CHAPTER XXI.

WAS IT A RUSE? The tide of horror was mounting higher, the waters gurgled to her lips, and her own feeble hands must raise a footway from out of the hissing waves to bear her safely over. "Where now, miss?" asked Symonds, holding the coach door in his hand. "Drive to the office of Seamore Emersham, the lawyer," said Margaret. The coachman mounted to the box, turned the carriage, and rolled down the street again. "Can it be doubted that my guardians have been purposely sent out of the way, that I may not appeal to t…