********************START OF HEADER******************** This text has been proofread but is not guaranteed to be free from errors. Corrections to the original text have been left in place. Title: A Reckless Promise, an electronic edition Author: Jones, Emma Garrison (1833-1898) Publisher: Street & Smith Place published: New York Date: 1889 ********************END OF HEADER******************** Front cover of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" Advert included in front of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" Advert included in front of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" Advert included in front of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" Advert included in front of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" Advert included in front of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" Advert included in front of Jones's "A Reckless Promise" A RECKLESS PROMISE OR, WHEN LOVE DIES BY EMMA GARRISON JONES Author of "Her Twentieth Guest," "A Useless Sacrifice," "Stronger than Fate," et cetera. STREET & SMITH CORPORATION PUBLISHERS 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York Copyright page for Jones's "A Reckless Stranger"A RECKLESS PROMISE. CHAPTER I. PRETTY MISS CAPTAIN."You haven't answered my question yet, Uncle Jack. Can I go to the Throckmorton ball? Say yes, or no, now, once for all, and have done with it."Major Crawford looked up from the morning paper with an anxious face."Come in and get your breakfast, like a good child, Cap'n Frank," he said coaxingly.But the girl, standing in the low French window, with the sunlight on her fair face and golden hair, made a charming little mouth, and shrugged her graceful shoulders."Breakfast, indeed! I've had mine ages ago," she said, "long before you thought of getting out of bed, you darling old lazybones. I'm off for a gallop after the hounds now; there's to be a meet on Chatterton Common at ten, and I wouldn't miss being there for the universe. But you'll be taking yourself off to the courthouse before I get back, so I want to hear, in plain English, if I'm to be allowed to go to the Throckmorton ball?""Certainly not," answered Mrs. Crawford sharply, giving her husband no chance to speak, "certainly not. Mrs. Throckmorton hasn't invited you, to begin with, and, besides, children of your age would do better in the nursery than at balls."Cap'n Frank made a second grimace."Beg your pardon, Mrs. Crawford," she said, in a mocking tone, nodding across at the lady, who sat stern and stately behind the glittering breakfast service, "but I've always heard it's good manners to speak when you're spoken to, and I was talking to Uncle Jack, if you please. I say, old gentleman, am I to go or not? I want to know."Mrs. Crawford's two daughters, by a former husband, sitting the one on her right hand, the other on her left, broke in this time."Don't let her go, father," they cried, in one breath. "Mrs. Throckmorton had no thought of inviting her. Don't let her go. Whoever heard of a chit of a schoolgirl going to parties with grown-up people?"The old gentleman pushed back his plate and looked exceedingly uncomfortable, while his niece, framed like a rare picture in the French window, stood quite breathless for the moment, her red lips shut, her eyes fairly blazing. Wonderful eyes they were, velvet blue, and as limpid and tender as an infant's, but they could blaze like summer lightning when occasion required."Who asked you to put your say in, my young ladies?" demanded the pretty madcap, when she could control her voice. "I thought it was quite sufficient for your mother to interfere. But just to pay you off for your smartness, I'm going, anyhow. Do you hear? I'm going to the ball at Throckmorton Hall, anyhow" --emphasizing every word by a little tap on the window sill with the silver-mouthed handle of her riding whip--"no matter what Uncle Jack says, so there! and what's more, she added, with a mischievous laugh, "I shall make it my business to upset some of the precious little plans you two have been laying for the last week or two, so I give you fair warning. You don't think I'm in earnest? You'll see, my dears."Mrs. Crawford and her two daughters sat speechless, while the old gentleman, rising hastily from his chair, called out imploringly:"Come now, Cap'n Frank, come now, my dear, this sort of thing won't do at all. Come in here and let me talk to you."But with a flash of her brilliant eyes, and a ripple of laughter, the madcap was gone, and when her uncle stepped out at the French window he caught sight of her on the lawn in front of the house in the act of mounting Hotspur, her Canadian pony."Well, by Jove!" the poor old gentleman exclaimed; "a fellow might as well try to put his finger on a flea as to get hold of that child. What the deuce am I going to do with her, anyhow?""I'm bound for Chatterton Common now, Uncle Jack," called the girl, as she seated herself firmly in the saddle, "I'll bring you the brush when I come back. By-by!"Then she shook out the reins over the dapple-gray pony's neck, and the creature went down the level drive like a bird on the wing.The old gentleman looked after the fearless young rider, shading his eyes from the morning sunlight."There isn't another such horsewoman in the State," he said, with fond pride, "but such a madcap--such a madcap! I don't know what to do with her--'pon my soul I don't.""I know, then," said his wife, stepping out at the French window, "I know, if you don't"--her lips quite colorless, and her voice shrill with anger--"I can tell you what's to be done with her, and I intend to have my way about it this time. You wouldn't listen to me when I advised you to send the girl to a convent six months ago, but I've made up my mind to take the matter in my own hands now. I don't intend to be insulted and browbeaten by an ill-mannered tomboy, in my own house, a single day longer than I can help it--not a single day. Do you understand, Major Crawford?""Oh, dear, yes, to be sure I do," cried the poor old gentleman, sorely distressed; "you put it plain enough, my dear, but I don't half like your plan. Cap'n Frank would never be satisfied in a convent.""Cap'n Frank!" sneered the lady; "if ever I was sick of anything, it is that absurd title. For goodness' sake, Major Crawford, what does make you act so like a fool? The girl's name is Frances."The old man winced perceptibly, but he answered quietly enough:"Oh, to be sure, I know--I know--but the child's been Cap'n Frank to me so long--that--that--well, confound it! I don't feel at home, if I call her anything else.""Nonsense," said Mrs. Crawford contemptuously, "it is nothing more than a silly habit, and the sooner you break yourself of it, the better. But the girl goes to the convent the first of the month; you may make up your mind to that. I was educated there, and I know just what sort of place it is. I'll make it my business to go over to Shannondale tomorrow, and make the necessary arrangements with the mother superior."Major Crawford was pacing tip and down in a disturbed manner."Nonsense, my dear," he broke out. "You make mountains of molehills. What has the child said or done to make such a fuss about? She's a saucebox, I'll admit, but she never means any harm--""Oh, dear, no," put in Miss Cleopatra, the elder daughter, approaching the window, "we all know that Cap'n Frank never means harm; not even when she turns the key on her governess and keeps her a prisoner, without her breakfast, until noon.""What?" exclaimed the major. "What is that?"Mrs. Crawford repeated the story with an air of extreme severity."That happened only yesterday," she said. "There had been some trouble between the girl and the governess, I believe, and the latter, by way of punishment, gave her pupil orders to be in the schoolroom an hour earlier than usual, and to have certain extra lessons prepared. Well, instead of obeying, as any other genteel girl would have done, your Cap'n Frank, as you call her, hides herself in the schoolroom until the governess appears; then she springs out, locks the door, pockets the key, and takes herself off, and poor dear Miss Nevitt, being ashamed to raise an alarm and let the servants know, actually remained a prisoner under lock and key, without a mouthful of breakfast, too, until noon. Now, what do you think of that?""Well, by George!" ejaculated the major; "that's the best joke I've heard for many a day. Poor dear Miss Nevitt, I can just imagine how she looked. Ha! ha! ha! it's too good, it is, by Jove! What a little vixen the child is, to be sure."And to his wife's extreme disgust, the old gentleman laughed until his sides ached."I don't consider it a laughing matter by any means, Major Crawford," said the lady severely. "I have advised Miss Nevitt to leave at once, and I think she'll do so. However, if you see fit to uphold and encourage your niece in her ill behavior, of course I have nothing more to say; but I am not going to have my own girls contaminated. I've made up my mind on that point.""Oh, the dickens!" exclaimed the major; "what's the use of talking such nonsense, my dear?""I'm not talking nonsense, Major Crawford, that is not one of my habits. What I say I mean;" and the lady confronted the poor old gentleman, and laid her white hand on his arm. "That niece of yours cannot remain under the same roof with me and my children--she goes or we do--or," she added, with startling emphasis, "something worse happens. You know what that will be, Major Crawford!"The old soldier winced as if from a sword thrust his ruddy color paling suddenly to an ashy gray.Mrs. Crawford turned from him, laughing lightly as she plucked a half-blown bud from the rosebush that clambered up the lattice, and fastened it on her bosom."I think it will be wise for us to understand each other, Major Crawford," she said, after a moment."You have had your way ever since our marriage, and it is nothing more than just that I should have mine now. Your niece must be sent to the Convent of the Sacred Heart next week; if you say so, I'll go down to Shannondale tomorrow, and make the necessary arrangements with the mother superior."The poor old gentleman's arms had dropped helplessly at his sides, and his head drooped forward until his chin rested on his breast."Yes, yes, my dear, I know, I know," he said, in a faltering voice; "no doubt you're quite right. Have it all your own way--have it all your own way--I've nothing more to say.""That's sensible," the lady said, with a smile and a shrug; and, putting aside the fluttering curtains, she disappeared through the window.CHAPTER II. A THRILLING STORY."Don't try that jump, miss; you'll break your neck if you do, Ride lower down."The hounds were in full cry, and the fox, having made a break for Durham Wood, the whole pack, led by a gaunt old fellow, with a head like a stag, dashed after him at a dizzy speed, the hunters following as best they could. It was rough riding over an unbroken field of fallow laud, at the far edge of which yawned an ugly little creek known as Dogberry Ditch. The whole cavalcade, consisting of fifteen or twenty gentlemen, and two ladies in green velvet habits, from the Hall, made a swift swerve for the lower ford; but Cap'n Frank, sitting her dapple-gray like a centaur, and looking neither to the right nor left, went straight ahead at a breakneck gallop.Dick Throckmorton arose in his stirrups, and shouted after her:"I say, miss, don't try that jump; you'll break your neck if you do. Come lower down."But if Cap'n Frank heard, she took no heed. Gathering the reins firmly in her right hand, and holding her trim little figure well in the saddle, she bent over and whispered a few words in the dapple's ear; then, touching his side ever so lightly with the lash of her whip, she cried out, in a tone of command:"Over, Hotspur!"And, straining every sinew, the little animal made one grand leap and landed safely on the other side.Throckmorton broke out into wild cheering, and his comrades, quite forgetful of the sport for the moment, in their appreciation of the daring deed, joined him."Well, by Jove!" the young man burst forth, when the demonstration was over; "I've never seen anything to equal that in the course of my life. Who the deuce is the girl, anyhow? A circus rider?""Circus rider, indeed!" said the horseman at his elbow; "I'd like to hear you tell her so. Why, she's Miss Crawford, of Beechcroft--Cap'n Frank they call her."Throckmorton spurred on his horse without a word."Cap'n Frank," he reflected; "the name takes hold of me somehow, and so does the girl herself. I shall make it my business to cultivate her acquaintance."He galloped on, a flush warming his handsome, dark face; but by the time he had reached the spot where the dogs were closing round their helpless victim, Cap'n Frank had turned, and was cantering away."Don't go!" the hunters shouted, waving their caps."You were in at the death first of all, Cap'n Frank, and the brush is yours.""I don't want it," she cried, her velvety eyes wide open with horror. "I'm sorry for the poor fox; I wish he had got away; I don't think I'll ever ride after the hounds again.""That would be a pity, since you ride so well," said Throckmorton, turning his horse swiftly, and cantering along by her side. "Can't I persuade you to ride back with me, and get the brush?"The madcap turned slightly in her saddle and looked at him, a smile dimpling her red mouth."No," she answered demurely, "I've had enough of it; I'm going home." "I beg your pardon," continued the young man. "You are Major Crawford's daughter, if I don't mistake?""But you do mistake, sir--I am Major Crawford's niece," she replied."Ah ! your pardon again. But you are Miss Crawford, though?""Well, yes"--shrugging her shapely shoulders, and giving Throckmorton a furtive glance that set his nerves in a mad dance--"I suppose so; but I scarcely know myself by that name. Everybody calls me Cap'n Frank."Dick Throckmorton was a daring fellow, and there was nothing repellent in the madcap's manner.He lifted his velvet hunting cap and bent his handsome head, with its dark, curling hair, toward her."I am Dick Throckmorton, of Throckmorton Hall, very much at your service," he said. "Will you accord me the privilege of knowing you as Cap'n Frank, Miss Crawford?""Just as you like, sir," answered the girl indifferently. "It is quite immaterial to me."Throckmorton was the least bit puzzled. He could not quite make up his mind whether his pretty companion was making fun of him or not, but he kept his horse neck and neck with hers all the same."I used to know Major Crawford very well when I was a youngster," he went on, "but I've been away so long I'm afraid he has forgotten me.""No, he hasn't; I heard him speaking of you yesterday," put in Cap'n Frank, with another sidelong glance.Throckmorton thrilled with delight and instantly took heart of grace."How kind of you to say so," he said, pressing still closer to the dapple-gray's side. "I have been intending to roam day to day to pay my respects to your uncle. Cap'n Frank"--with an accent that he felt sure would not be lost--"since you won't go back and claim the brush, will you allow me to ride over to Beechcroft with you this morning?"The madcap gathered up the reins and planted her- self firmly in the saddle, then with a sidewise flash of her velvety blue eyes, and a gay little laugh that was like the trill of a bird:"There aren't many people who can ride with me," she said, "but you can try, Mr. Throckmorton. Here goes," and with a graceful motion of her whip, and a soft chirrup to the pony, she was off like an arrow from a bow.Throckmorton drove the rowels into his hunter's flanks, and essayed to follow, but right before him, black and yawning, was Dogberry Ditch. He thought for an instant of trying the leap, but before he could bring his horse into position, the dapple-gray was over, and skimming along the fallow lands toward Chatterton Common at a pace that made the young man dizzy."It's no go," he said, with an oath, "the little vixen's got the best of me, but I'll be even with her yet, if it costs me my life."Cap'n Frank turned in the saddle, as she reached the outer edge of the fallow lands, and waved her hand. Throckmorton took off his cap, and held it above his curly head, until she was out of sight--then, feeling in no humor for the jests and raillery of his comrades, he turned his hunter's head, and cantered off briskly, in the direction of the Hall.The Travelers' Rest, a wayside inn, where drovers and country folk on their way to town were in the habit of putting up, lay on the young man's road, and . seeing that there were no loungers about, he rode up to the door, threw his reins to the stableboy, leaped from the saddle, and went in."I say, Wilkins, give me a brandy and soda, with ice, and tell me something about the people over at Beechcroft."The ruddy innkeeper was quite equal to the occasion; while he prepared the mixture with skillful hands his tongue wagged as well."There's the major, you see, sir, as fine a gentleman, saving yourself, sir, as the country can produce; everybody'll tell you that, sir. Then, there's his wife --second wife she be, sir, with two daughters by the first husband--and betwixt you and me and the gatepost, sir, the major got the worst of the bargain when he married her.""Go on," said Throckmorton, sipping his brandy, and soda, "there's a niece, I believe?""To be sure, sir--Cap'n Frank, they call her. She was poor Tom Crawford's daughter. You remember him, no doubt, sir?""Never mind about that; go on with your story.""True enough, sir, 'tain't neither here nor there whether you remember him or not, but he was a seafaring man, sir, Tom Crawford was, and died 'way out below the equator somewhere; anyhow, so the story goes. And when he lay in his berth at the point of death, sir, the ship's crew mutinied, and there would ha' been murder, no doubt, but what should this same little gal, poor Tom Crawford's darter, sir, a slip of a lass just gone into her teens, what should she do, sir, but get the dying man's revolvers, and with one in each hand, the little critter marches out on deck, and says she, her voice ringing like a bugle:"'Men, my father won't live to see the sun set; but I'm captain now in his place, and I want every one of you to do his duty, and carry this ship safe into port. The first man that refuses to obey my orders shall be shot.'"That's just what she said, sir. Lord bless me, I've heard the major tell the story twenty times, I reckon, and do you know, sir, them fellers did obey that slip of a gal's orders, and brought the ship safe into port, and ever since that, sir, 'poor Tom Crawford's little darter's been called Cap'n Frank.""Well, by Jove!" Throckmorton exclaimed; "this grows interesting. And she lives at Beechcroft now, does she?""Yes, sir, she's lived there on and off for the last three years; ever since her father's death, in fact. The major picked her tip somewhere across the water, you see, sir, and fetched her home with him, and for a while the pretty madcap seemed to be the apple o' the old man's eye, and they lived together as happy as a pair o' robins. Then all of a suddint, sir, the major turns fool--clever men do turn fools now and then, sir, if you ever noticed it--well, the major turned fool, and went off somewheres and married the Widder De Lansac, and fotched her and her two darters home--"Throckmorton wheeled round suddenly, a startled look in his somber black eyes."What's that?" he demanded; "who was it the major married?""The Widder De Lansac, sir; they do say the major courted her before he married his first wife--""And the daughters?" questioned Throckmorton breathlessly. "What's their names? Can you remember?"The innkeeper rubbed the pink crown of his bald head."Lemme see now, I did know their names. The youngest one is Louise--she's a leetle critter with snappin' black eyes--and t'other one's like her mother, thinks the earth is not fit for her to walk on; they call her some outlandish name--- Oh, yes, I remember now, it's Cleopatrick, but most everybody says Miss Cleo for short."Throckmorton's dark face had grown pale, and his hands began to shake nervously."Good heavens!" he ejaculated, tinder his breath. "She here? What am I going to do?""Lemme mix you another brandy and soda, squire," said the innkeeper, looking curiously at the young man's changed face. "You look kinder faint. 'Tis the heat o' the sun, I reckon."But Throckmorton turned from him without a word, and, throwing himself in the saddle, galloped away.CHAPTER III. MAID AND MAN."You haven't called on the Beechcroft ladies yet, Dick, and to-night the ball comes off. What a shame! Suppose you ride over this morning;" and Mrs.. Throckmorton, a very fair old lady, with a lace breakfast cap perched above the silver-white puffs of her hair, laid her hand on her son's arm, as he sat staring moodily into the library fire."No, I've got something else to do this morning," answered the young man a trifle sharply. "Besides, I'm not particularly concerned about the Beechcroft ladies; they'll accept your invitation, I dare say, no matter whether I call or not.""Oh, to be sure," answered his mother smilingly, "but one might as well be civil, you know, my dear Dick.""I can tell you what's the matter, mamma," said Miss Throckmorton, looking up from her embroidery with a merry glance, "Dick's out of temper because that pretty little madcap, Cap'n Frank, as they call her, won't be allowed to come to the ball. He was making love to her at the fox hunt the other morning. I watched him, and so did Rose. She's a little beauty, and the finest rider I ever saw.""But Dick mustn't fall in love with her," smiled his mother; "that will never do. Rose might get jealous.""The deuce fly away with Rose!" said Throckmorton, under his breath; then turning toward his sister, he asked, with a sudden show of interest:"How do you know Cap'n Frank won't be allowed to collie?""Oh, Mrs.Crawford as good as told us so the day we called. We asked for Cap'n Frank, and she informed us quite curtly that she was in the schoolroom with her governess, and was quite too young to receive company. So that settles the ball question, of course."Dick made no answer, but turning abruptly, stalked out of the room."Cap'n Frank won't be allowed to come," he said to himself, strolling out on the terrace, where the early roses hung in fragrant clusters and the pea fowls were spreading their gorgeous plumage in the sunshine, "but she'll be here. Oh, yes, she'll be here, and I shall be forced to meet her. She'll know me, of course! Why, she couldn't help knowing me, and it would be just like her to blurt the whole infernal business out, and treat the company to a scene. My mother and Rose," he added, with grim laughter, "will like that sort of thing immensely."I don't suppose any other fellow was ever in such a confounded fix," he went on, after a moment, pacing the terrace with restless strides. "But I deserve it-- yes, I do! By Jove! I deserve the worst that cart come upon me. What in thunder did I want to make a fool of myself, and get into such an infernal scrape for? And the worst of it is, I never cared for the girl, and I knew it all the time. The deuce fly away with the women, anyhow! They're at the bottom of all the trouble in the world!"The sunshine streamed down on the tender grass, and the roses nodded in the breeze; the pea fowls moved up and down in the golden light, with their gaudy plumage outspread; and, as far as the eye could reach on every hand, outstretched the broad acres of the Throckmorton lands; and tip and down the terrace, his head bent and his hands clasped behind him; Dick Throckmorton strode, master and heir of all, and yet, that bright morning, as miserable a fellow as the world held.Several years before, when the young man was a student in Germany, he had scattered his wild oats with a lavish hand, and the harvest was forthcoming.Among other foolish and questionable things was an acquaintance made incognito with the daughter of a French musician, who was in Leipsic for the purpose of completing an opera, which he hoped would secure for him both fame and fortune.The girl was pretty, ambitious, and an amateur in music herself, and the young student, keeping back his real name, introduced himself as the son of wealthy parents, and in course of time made love to her.Miss De Lansac, for that was her name, led him on, no doubt, for she was susceptible and romantic, and, besides, had great respect for riches.At all events, in a very short time, the love affair terminated in an engagement; a solitaire of great value was put on Miss De Lansac's finger, and she wore, suspended from a gold chain that encircled her fair throat, a jeweled locket, containing a picture of her lover's handsome, dark face.She was all gratitude and devotion, of course, and for a time Throckmorton fancied himself very much in love, and was thinking seriously of confessing the deception he had practiced, disclosing his real name, and perhaps making the girl his wife.But just about this time a letter came, which roused the young man, in rather a startling fashion, from his foolish dream.The letter was from his mother, and was written on paper heavily edged with black."My Dear Dick," she wrote, "come home just as soon as you get this letter--don't delay an hour. Your grandfather, poor old gentleman, died quite suddenly yesterday, and you are his heir. Our fears have all been groundless, my dear son; everything is just as it should be. Throckmorton Hall and all the rest comes to you, and you will be one of the wealthiest land- holders in the State. I can't tell you how thankful and relieved I am."You will readily understand how your presence is needed--everything seems at odds and ends, and I can do nothing without you. So come at once, in the very next steamer. Never mind about your studies they can wait."In a postscript was added:"I forgot to say that Rose is with me; and, Dick, she has a fortune of over a hundred thousand in her own right, and is as beautiful as a dream. A word to the wise is sufficient. Don't answer by letter--come!"Throckmorton's first thought, perhaps, when he fully comprehended the situation, was:"Well, by Jove! what a lucky thing it is I didn't marry the girl. Wouldn't there have been a lively row if I had? But Rose be hanged ! Who wants her or her money, either?"That same night he parted with Miss De Lansac, telling her that important matters called him away for a short time; and two days later he was on board the Columbia, and bound for New York. He intended to return to Leipsic, of course, and do the right thing by Miss De Lansac; but somehow or other it turned out that when the young man got home he stayed there, and that was the end of it.The girl dial not know his real name; and, besides, when he came to regard the affair in the light of other events, Throckmorton concluded that lie was not in love, and had only been led into making a fool of himself.So that was the end of it; at any rate, so thought Dick Throckmorton. But there is no counting upon the end or issue of a misdeed.Five years had gone by, and the foolish dream was a thing of the past, and Throckmorton, grown weary of travel and study, at his mother's solicitation, had come to take possession of his ancestral home, and there she was, the girl he had treated so heartlessly.Cleopatra De Lansac! That was her name, but in order to be sure about the matter, Throckmorton, disguised as a laborer, had gone down to Beechcroft under cover of darkness, and watched and waited for a sight of her face.There was no mistake; she was the same woman, and in a few hours he would be compelled to meet her 'face to face.What course should he pursue? A dozen times lie had made up his mind to go down to Beechcroft and have it out with her, but in every instance his courage had failed.What if she insisted upon holding him to his promise?He had decided at last to leave the matter in the hands of fate.If the girl came to the ball, and recognized and denounced him, he would take himself off on the next train, and so put an end to it.The world was wide, and he had the instincts of a Bedouin.But Cap'n Frank? Should he never see her again?He swore at himself for being such an imbecile. What had he to do with a crazy little madcap not yet out of the schoolroom? Yet the remembrance of her velvety eyes, and smiling mouth, and mischievous laughter, as she galloped off and left him that morning, stirred his blood like new wine."I won't give her up," he said stubbornly, a fierce gleam lighting his somber eyes; "I'll see her again if it costs me my life."While he strode up and down the terrace quite unmindful of the roses, and startling the timid peafowls with his sharp, quick steps, a queer-looking, Topsyish little negro came up the drive, and ascended the stone steps. The dogs bayed at her, and the peafowls took wing, but she seemed in nowise frightened.Creeping noiselessly after Throckmorton, she confronted him when he turned, and looked up at hire, with a pair of beady black eyes, and a flash of white teeth."Dis Mister Dick Throckmorton?"The young man started, and, looking down at the impish, black face, gave utterance to a rattling oath."Who the deuce are you, and what do you want?""Dis Mister Dick Throckmorton?" repeated the squeaky voice."Yes, confound you, you black ape. What do you want?""Fotch you a letter, sah.""A letter?"Throckmorton's heart gave a great plunge, and then stood still. It was coming--she had found him out, and sent him a letter. Ah, well, he might as well face the music first as last.His dusk face flushed with anger as he stretched forth his hand and took the white envelope front, the little negro's clawlike fingers."Who sent it?" he demanded.The girl shook her woolly head. "Neber mind--you read it, sah, dat'll do."Throckmorton swallowed an oath as he broke the seal. The sheet was cream-tinted, and fragrant with some wild woodland scent, and the writing was evidently a child's."Mr. Dick Throckmorton," the missive ran, you've heard the old story of Cinderella, of course? Well, it will be repeated to-night. You are the prince, and if you will be in the hall, standing under the antlers, precisely as the tower clock strikes nine, Cinderella will come and open the ball with you. Now, you under- stand, nine o'clock to the minute, don't fail, for Cinderella will be there."There was neither date nor signature, nothing but the scrawling schoolgirl writing.Throckmorton read the strange lines twice over."What in thunder does it mean ?" he pondered; then turning sharply, he cried out:"Here, you imp of Satan, tell me who sent this letter!" but the little negro girl was gone.The proposed ball at Throckmorton Hall had created a good deal of excitement in the neighborhood, and the invited guests began to assemble at an early hour.The hospitable old mansion was ready to receive them, every door thrown wide open, every window ablaze with light, and in the old-fashioned Drawingroom, looking quite regal in her black velvet and diamonds, stood Mrs. Throckmorton, with Rose, her son's affianced bride, on her right hand, and Gwendoline, her fair young daughter, on her left, but the young master of the mansion was nowhere to be seen."Where under the sun can Dick be?" said the mother to her daughter, as their guests began to file in. "I declare it is too provoking that he should take himself off in this way. He seems to have quite lost his senses of late. I can't imagine what ails him.""Oh, he'll turn up presently, I dare say," said Gwendoline encouragingly.But Dick failed to appear, though the guests came thicker and faster, for at that moment, while his mother was fretting over his strange conduct, he stood at the lower end of the wide hall, securely hidden by the heavy draperies, watching every newcomer with bated breath and glittering eyes.The strange missive was in his breast pocket, and his heart beat heavily beneath it, as he asked himself again and again:"Can it be that she has set a trap for me? Will she impersonate Cinderella ? Well, well"--with a grim laugh--"I shall wait and see."One by one the guests came in, stately matrons and hale old gentlemen, happy girls, hanging on their lovers' arms, overdressed spinsters, with evident designs on the handsome young man who was lord and master of all the luxury before them.Presently the carriage from Beechcroft was announced, and a little later, Mrs. Crawford, on the major's arm, and followed; by her two lovely daughters, came in.Throckmorton's heart stood still. There she was, stately and beautiful as in days gone by, the woman he had treated so heartlessly. In a few minutes more, they would stand face to face.A mist swam before his eyes, and for a moment the impulse to fly, and escape it all, was strong within him. He turned, to make his way out by a rear door, and then, like a lightning flash, he remembered the missive in his pocket. In a few minutes more Cinderella would appear.He turned short about with a stubborn oath."No, by Heaven! I'll not run like a coward; I'll stay and face the music."The party from Beechcroft had filed in with the rest, and already the fiddlers were beginning to tune up their instruments.Mrs. Throckmorton was at her wits' end. It would soon be time to open the hall--and her son not present"What can have become of him?" whispered Gwendoline, while Rose, averting her face, pretended unconsciousness of his absence.Meanwhile, still hidden behind the heavy curtains, Throckmorton counted the fateful minutes as they went by, with a strange premonition at his heart.Presently, shrill and sonorous above the rustle and murmur of the crowd, and the twang of the violins, the measured strokes of the tower clock were heard."Nine o'clock," said Throckmorton, with a sudden thrill. "Now for Cinderella."He emerged from his hiding place as he spoke, and took his stand under the antlers.A moment of breathless waiting, then the door opened, and the footman fell back in amazement at the startling vision that appeared.A little lady, who, but for her youthful face, might have been the great-great-grandmother of all the Throckmortons, arrayed for a state ball. Her robe was of the stiffest brocade, grown yellow with age; fine old laces, cream-tinted and priceless, covered her bosom and dimpled arms, her hair was a mass of glittering diamond dust, and, from the crown of her head to the tips of her satin slippers, the queer little figure was one blaze of crystals and pearls; and behind her, like a fairy done in ebony, came a little black imp, holding up her lady's sweeping court train.For one swift moment Throckmorton stood still, his breath suspended, then he recognized the lovely face, and his heart leaped to his throat. He advanced instantly, bowing to the very floor."Cinderella, the prince awaits you," he said, taking her gloved hand and drawing it within his arm, "Shall we open the ball now?""As the prince wills," she made answer, and without another word, holding her hand close, and struggling desperately to still his strangling heartbeats, Dick Throckmorton led the way to the crowded ballroom, with Cap'n Frank on his arm.CHAPTER IV. CINDERELLA'S SLIPPER."Don't wait for Dick, my good people, he's the most unreliable fellow in the world," said Mrs. Throckmorton, concealing her vexation beneath a mask of smiles. "Quite likely he has gone off to his 'den,' and forgotten all about us, but the music will rout him out, so bid the fiddlers strike up; and Rose, my dear, you can lead the dance with Mr. Carrington. I don't intend to allow my guests to be kept waiting on Dick's account."Rose was quite as much vexed as her prospective mother-in-law, and a good deal wounded besides, being very much in love with her betrothed husband; but she was by far too well-trained and well-bred a young person to make the slightest exhibition of her feelings, so she came forward with smiling grace, and accepting Mr. Carrington's arm, moved on to join the dancers, who were falling into position at the lower end of the room.At this moment there was a sudden hush, followed by a murmur of surprise, and, as if moved by one impulse, every face in the crowded room turned toward the door, where, for one breathless moment, Dick Throckmorton stood motionless and irresolute, with his strange companion on his arm.Mrs. Throckmorton stared in silent amazement, and poor Rose, taking note, first of all, of the fair face and blue eyes, felt a pang like a dagger thrust through her heart. In that first moment, with that first fleeting glance, she knew that this strange creature, whoever she might be, would come between her and the heart of the man she loved.Major Crawford and his wife had turned with the rest, and stood staring at the wonderfud vision.One moment of blank amazement, and then the old soldier's eyes flashed with amused recognition."Why, bless my soul," he exclaimed, "it is Cap'n Frank, and, as I live, the little madcap's tricked out in her great-grandmother's finery. Well, she said she meant to come to the ball, and, by Jove, she's kept her word. Ha! ha! ha!"His rollicking, good-natured laugh filled the room, and the rest of the company, realizing that there was a joke underlying all the mystery, began to laugh, too. But Mrs. Crawford looked as stern as Fate."I am shocked," she said, in a whisper that reached only her husband's ear. "I can't see how you can laugh."The major had no time to reply, for Throckmorton, after a moment's hesitation, advanced, with desperate courage, to his mother's side."You've heard the story of Cinderella?" he said bluntly. "Well, here she is. Allow me to present her."Mrs. Throckmorton was not slow to catch an idea, and although the pretty, mischievous face was quite strange to her, she beamed with delight."Cinderella?" she cried, looking over the diminutive lady in trailing brocade, "why, that is charming. My dear, I feel very much honored to see you at my ball."Cinderella made a stately little bow."Oh, madam, thank you," she replied, her bright eyes dancing with mischief, and her red mouth dimpling with smiles, "but the honor is all on my side. I am only too glad to be here.""Well, I hope you'll enjoy yourself," said the lady graciously."Oh, I couldn't help doing that, madam. I've come to open the ball with the prince, you see."She gave her trailing gown a little shake, setting all her jewels in a shimmer, and made a mocking obeisance to Throckmorton that was irresistible.The young man's mother could not restrain her laughter."Why, what an amusing child!" she exclaimed. "My dear Dick, who is she?""Cinderella, according to her own confession," he replied, moving on with the dazzling creature on his arm.Mrs. Crawford was quite breathless with anger by this time."Why don't you put an end to this disgraceful scene?" she whispered, her white fingers closing sharply on her husband's arm. "Why don't you take the brazen creature out of the room?"But the major only laughed in his jolly, good-natured fashion."Let the madcap alone," he said. "She's done no harm. Why shouldn't she enjoy herself? Mrs. Throckmorton"--raising his voice so the lady could hear--"you've heard of my niece, Cap'n Frank, no doubt? Well, there she is, tricked out in her great-grandmother's finery."Mrs. Throckmorton had half suspected the truth. She hastened forward now, however, to give the girl a warmer greeting."Why, my charming child! Cap'n Frank and Cinderella all in one! A double surprise and pleasure. I am very glad to know you, my dear. Wait a minute, Dick," she added; "let me introduce you to Major Crawford's stepdaughters. My dears, come here."The two young ladies came forward with smiling grace."Dick, my dear," continued their sweet-voiced hostess, "this is Miss Cleopatra De Lansac, and this is Miss Louise. My dears, this is my son, Dick, and a very bad-mannered young man, I'm sure you think him, but since he has been hunting up this charming Cinderella all the evening, we shall be obliged to excuse him, I suppose."It was an exciting moment. Throckmorton's heart gave a mad plunge and then stood still, and in spite of his obstinate will, his voice was scarcely steady, when he offered the elder Miss De Lansac his hand."I am very happy to meet you, Miss De Lansac?" he said."How do you do, Mr. Throckmorton?"Her voice was soft and silvery; not the slightest sign of emotion was visible in her cool, gray eyes, her lips smiled serenely, and the white fingers that lay for an instant in Throckmorton's hand might have been carved of stone.He was so astounded at the young lady's marvelous self-control, that he stood dumb and stunned for a moment, wondering in a vague way if it could be possible she had failed to recognize him. But Miss De Lansac did not give him much time to solve the riddle; she turned to his companion with a gay laugh."Well, Cinderella," she said, "you've given us all a great surprise.""That's what I meant to do," answered Cap'n Frank promptly, her eyes dancing with delight, "I told you I'd go to the Throckmorton ball, you know, and here I am.""So I see, my dear," responded Miss Cleo serenely."And what do you suppose Mr. Throckmorton and his mother think of you?" put in Louise, a trifle sharply.The madcap shrugged her graceful shoulders and made a charming face."I haven't given that point a thought; and to tell the truth," she added, "I don't care a snap, so I get my dance. Ah, there goes the music," as the thrilling numbers of a waltz began to ring out of the strings of half a dozen violins.Throckmorton, with the feeling of one in a dream bowed to the ladies, whose acquaintance he had just made, and, with Cinderella on his arm, moved away.The waltz soon awoke him, however. What a waltz it was! To the latest hour of his life, Dick Throckmorton could never recall it without experiencing a delicious thrill of ecstasy.His partner, however, with her rustling train grace fully carried on her arm, scarcely allowed him to give her the least support; indeed, she needed neither support nor guidance. Her feet seemed scarcely to touch the floor, yet she kept time with every turn and thrill of the pulsing music."There never was anything in the shape of woman like her before," he said to himself. "She's the sort of creature a fellow wouldn't mind losing his life for."Meanwhile Cap'n Frank danced on with the happy enjoyment of a child, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes shining, her red lips apart.Presently it all ended. The thrilling waltz music ceased, and the dancers stood still."You liked the waltz?" said Throckmorton, looking down at the radiant creature on his arm."Liked it?" she cried; "oh, that doesn't express one-half. It was bliss! I wonder if the real Cinderella was one-half as happy when she danced with the prince?""I am sure she wasn't one-half as lovely," said Throckmorton, his dark face all aglow.Cap'n Frank shrugged her shoulders and made an expressive gesture."Ah, well," utterly ignoring the compliment, "nothing in this world, whether good or bad, ever lasts long," she said philosophically. "The dance is over and Cinderella must go back to the chimney corner.""Let me take you to the greenhouse where you can get a breath of fresh air," said Throckmorton, his voice trembling with eagerness. "It is close and warm in here; besides, you will like to see the flowers.""Lead the way, then," said the girl, her eyes beginning to dance with mischief.Throckmorton took her hand and drew it within his arm.The greenhouse was silent and odorous and wrapped in semigloom.The young man put his partner in a seat, and then stood before her in silence, his dusk face flushed, his dark eyes aglow.He had been an admirer of fair women all his life, but this time, and all in a moment, too, he was hotly and passionately in love.Cap'n Frank sat silent, a towering palm above her head, tropical bloom and fragrance all about her. She let her dimpled chin rest in the hollow of her hand, and a brooding, wistful look softened her merry eyes."You are tired?" said Throckmorton gently."Oh, no, I never get tired; I am a little sad because the fun's all over, that's all. Mr. Throckmorton," with an abrupt change of manner, "I'm dreadfully thirsty, could you get me an ice?""Certainly. Excuse me for not suggesting it. I'll be back in one moment."He bowed and disappeared, and the madcap sprang to her feet with a suppressed laugh."The cock crows for midnight; away, Cinderella, to the chimney corner and the black cinders!" she cried, and, gathering up her trailing robe, she fled through a side door and made her way out into the summer darkness.Five minutes later, when Dick Throckmorton returned with a silver platter of ices and frozen fruits, he found the greenhouse silent and untenanted. Cinderella was gone. But on the floor, at his feet, shining white in the semidarkness, was a tiny, high-heeled slipper, all aglow with gems.He picked it up with a suppressed cry, pressed it to his lips, and then hid it in his pocket.CHAPTER V. NEAR A PRECIPICEThe day following the Throckmorton ball was as fine as June weather and June sunshine could make it, and in the afternoon Mrs. Crawford and her two daughters drove over to Throckmorton Hall to make their party call."What a fine old place this is, to be sure," said the lady, as her carriage entered the broad drive leading up under the thick foliage of the ancestral oaks to the stately old mansion. "There isn't another like it anywhere, and Throckmorton owns all. What a distinguished-looking fellow he is, too, don't you think so, my dear girls?"Miss Cleopatra, who was looking out across the green meadows with a sort of stony calm on her proud, fair face, did not answer, but Louise spoke up with a twinkling of amusement in her bright black eyes."Why, of course she thinks so, mamma, and so do I, perhaps but what does it matter? Mr. Throckmorton might as well be the clumsiest clodhopper in the country for all he'll ever be to us.""Don't speak in that bold, emphatic way, Louise," said her mother impatiently. "It isn't well-bred. Besides, I see no sense in what you are saying.""I do, then. My prophetic soul warns me that it will be worse than useless to waste our blandishments on Dick Throckmorton; he's in love with Cap'n Frank already."Cleopatra roused up from her reverie, a sudden fire kindling in her eyes and flushing her cheeks."What nonsense!" said Mrs. Crawford. "It seems to me you are always talking nonsense, Louise.""Well, perhaps I am, but it is prophetic, nonsense. I think I was born clairvoyant, or endowed with second and sight, or something of the sort; I generally see the end of a thing at the beginning. Now, for my own part," she went on, with a shrug and a ripple of amused laughter, "I've no designs on Mr. Throckmorton--my fancy leads me another way--but I warn you, mamma, that any little plans you and Cleo may have on foot will come to grief if the Cinderella of last night is suffered to run at large.""She will not be allowed to run at large, my dear Louise," said Mrs. Crawford. "She goes to the convent next week. Don't forget that."Louise shrugged her shoulders."My prophetic soul speaks once more," she said. "The convent won't hold her a month. You'll see!""So we shall, my dear. The mother superior happens to be a personal friend of mine, and I am going down to Shannondale to-morrow to make the necessary arrangements. I think I am equal to the task."The lady laughed softly as she uttered these last words, and there was an expression about her thin lips unpleasantly suggestive, to say the least. At this moment Cleo spoke for the first time."It seems to me, you and Louise are taking a great deal of trouble on interest, mamma," she said, with a slight, mirthless laugh. "Besides, the whole business is shockingly premature. Why, I haven't even made up my mind that I approve of Mr. Throckmorton yet.""Nonsense," retorted her mother sharply. "A man like Mr. Throckmorton is always to be approved of. He is handsome, cultured, well-born, and wealthy. What more do you want?""He might have a skeleton in his closet; he looks like it," suggested Louise."What does that signify?" said Mrs. Crawford placidly; "the closet door can be locked and the key thrown away.""That is true, but what about that pretty Rose?" continued Louise wickedly. "Wasn't there a rumor of an engamement between her and Throckmorton?""I believe there was, but an engagement is nothing. If Cleo isn't capable of winning Mr. Throckmorton in the face of such a trifling obstacle, she doesn't deserve to have him, that's what I say.""It is settled, then, that Cleo is to enter the list?""Yes," answered the lady quite calmly, "it is settled. I made up my mind last night, my dear Louise, that at some time in the near future your sister shall be mistress of Trockmorton Hall.""Well, upon my word, mamma, you quite take away my breath! My dear Cleo, what do you say to all this? Are you eager for the fray?"Miss De Lansac had no time to reply, for at that moment Dick Throckmorton came galloping across the fields, and, catching sight of the carriage, reined in his horse and waited at the gate for it to come up.He was just returning, by a near cut, from Beechcroft, whither he had gone ostensibly to call upon the major and his family, but, in truth, impelled by a mad desire to see Cinderella. The dainty little slipper found on the floor of the greenhouse was still in his pocket, and for the first time in his gay, self-indulgent life, Dick Throckmorton was really in love.Cap'n Frank had bewitched him. Her lovely face was continually before his eyes; her mischievous laughter rang in his ears, and only to recall that waltz they had danced together thrilled his heart with mad rapture."I'll see her again if it costs me my life," he said.And mounting his black thoroughbred, lie galloped across the fields to Beechcroft. But the major sat smoking on the terrace, and the ladies were not at home.Throckmorton expressed his regret, and then ventured to inquire for the old gentleman's niece."Cap'n Frank, you mean? Oh, she's all right; but there's no telling where she is. It would take a Philadelphia lawyer to keep the run of the madcap. She's like a bird on the wing."Throckmorton did not tarry long. Feeling almost savage in his disappointment, he galloped home again, to find the Beechcroft carriage rolling up the drive.His mother, with pretty Rose at her elbow, stood on the veranda, waiting to receive her visitors, when he escorted them to the house."It was kind of you to come so soon," she said; "and, my dears"--smiling at the young ladies--"how fresh and bright you look after last night's dissipation. But where is our charming Cinderella? Why was she left behind?"Mrs. Crawford made an impressive gesture as she seated herself in the armchair Throckmorton wheeled forward."My dear Mrs. Throckmorton, don't speak of that wayward child. We should have been delighted to have her with us, of course. But dear me! she may be out on the river, or at the top of Mount Storm, or galloping across the country like a trooper, for all we can tell."Throckmorton's dark eyes blazed as he listened."Why, what a madcap the pretty dear must be," said his mother smilingly. "But, I rather admire a madcap, and so does Dick."Rose's pink cheeks paled perceptibly, and it was all Louise could do to refrain from laughing outright.But Mrs. Crawford went on with well-assumed concern:"You wouldn't if you had one to deal with my dear Mrs. Throckmorton! You don't know the trouble and anxiety the dear child gives the major and myself. However"--folding her white hands and drawing long breath of relief--"we have our arrangements to put her in a good school next week, and for two or three years, at least, we shall know that she is safe.""Next week? I am sorry for that--we were hoping to see a great deal of the charming child."The pretty pink came back to Rose's cheeks, but Throckmorton sat silent, his heart beating with heavy throbs.Mrs. Crawford's party call lengthened into quite a visit. The Hall was such a charming place.Fruits and frozen-creams were served, and then the party went out for a stroll; and by chance, or Mrs. Crawford's skillful maneuvering, Miss De Lansac and Throckmorton were thrown together most of the time.The young man found the situation rather exciting --it was like walking on the edge of a precipice. An insane desire to make the girl betray herself--to find out whether she recognized him or not--took possession of him."You had better take my arm, Miss De Lansac," he said, when they were descending the hill to the boathouse. "You'll find this hill right tiresome."She slipped her white hand within his arm, in the most serene and matter-of-fact manner."I should think you'd be glad to get home, Mr. Throckmorton," she said. "There are few places, even abroad, as charming as Throckmorton Hall.""Well, I am glad to get hone," he replied. "But there's no telling how long it will last. Having led the life of a Bedouin so long, it will be hard for me to settle down. You've been abroad, Miss De Lansac?""Oh, yes; the better part of my life was spent abroad. I always traveled with my dear father, even when mamma and Louise remained at home. Possibly you may have heard of my father, Mr. Throckmorton?"She turned and looked at him with her calm, passionless eyes, and the young man's heart stood still."Now for it," he said to himself. "Well, by Jove! as well now as later." I don't know," he answered. "I can't remember.""Auguste De Lansac was my father's name," the young lady went on. "He was a professor of music in Paris for a number of years; later on he went to Leipsic to bring out an opera, which was the dream of his life. I was with him all the time. Were you ever any length of time in Leipsic, Mr. Throckmorton?"Throckmorton's heart throbbed audibly, but he managed to control his voice."I have spent some time there off and on but I don't recall your father's name, Miss De Lansac. I am not well posted in regard to the musical world. Was the opera a success?""It was never brought out, My father died suddenly, and then I came home.""I don't believe she knows me, I don't, by Heaven," thought Throckmorton. "She couldn't control herself like this if she did."But he was mistaken. Miss De Lansac had known him from the first moment of their meeting. She remembered the very hour when he asked her to be his wife. At that moment, the locket containing his handsome, treacherous face was hidden in her bosom, and in spite of her wonderful self-control, her heart was like a seething volcano, and she was saying to herself , over and over:"I can bide my time-- I can wait for my revenge. It will come."CHAPTER VI. THE RIVAL LOVERS."I wish the matter could be arranged, Tom, I do, indeed. The girl is young, to be sure--not quite eighteen; but my first wife"--and the major's voice dropped to a tender key--"my first wife was younger than that when I married her, and we were the happiest couple in the universe. Yes, my dear fellow, I tell you candidly that I should rejoice to see the matter settled. Have you said anything to Cap'n Frank yet?""No, sir; oh, no, indeed. I considered it my duty; to speak to you first, and, besides," he added, laughing a trifle uneasily, "she's such a shy, wild little thing."Tom Lynwold was a handsome, manly fellow, and his strong voice thrilled with tenderness, and his face flushed with intense feeling as he stood on the long portico at Beechcroft in the glow of the afternoon sunshine, speaking of the girl he loved."So she is," the major assented. "No wood bird was ever wilder, and such a madcap; but she's as good as gold at heart, Tom.""I know that, sir."The old gentleman hesitated a moment or two, pacing tip and down the portico with his hands behind him."You're sure you love her, Tom?" he said at last. "You're sure you're willing to make her your wife, in spite of--of that infernal secret?"The major's voice faltered in a piteous way, and he was obliged to draw his sleeve across his eyes more than once."The secret has nothing to do with the matter, sir," answered Lynwold promptly. "I've never taken much stock in the story. I'll admit, however, that's neither here nor there. Granting that it is all true, I can't see that it concerns me in the least. I love Cap'n Frank for what she is, and just as she is; I've loved her, I believe, ever since she was a little child, and the highest thing I ask is the privilege of making her my wife."The old soldier broke down at this point, and, covering his face with his hands, sobbed like a woman."Bless you, Tom," he said, holding out his hand, "you've got a noble heart, my dear fellow. You're like your father, and he was the best friend I ever had. Go ahead, my boy; I'm sure the child will make you happy if you can only win her consent. She's a true-hearted little thing.""Then you give me permission to try, sir?""Yes, my boy, yes, with all my heart. The girl's young, as I've mentioned, but I can trust her to you. You'll bear with the poor little madcap's faults I'm sure."She has no faults in my eyes, sir."The old gentleman shook his head."She's a wild little thing, Tom, and it will lift a great weight from my shoulders to know she has some one, to care for her. All she needs is a steady hand and a loving heart to keep her from going wrong. But as it is, I'm always anxious lest she be led into error."She's a thoughtless little thing. Now, the other night," he went on, breaking out into his jolly laugh. "what should the little rattlepate do, just to spite my wife and the girls, but play Cinderella, as she called it. She stole up in the garret and tricked herself out in all her great-grandmother's finery, and went over to Throckmorton Hall, with no one but that little imp of Satan, Trixy, for company. And do you know, Tom, she actually opened the ball with Dick Throckmorton for her partner. Now, what do you think of that?"Tom Lynwold did not answer for a moment or two, but his handsome face looked grave and anxious."I don't fancy Mr. Throckmorton," he said at last. "I wish Cap'n Frank didn't know him.""Oh, she doesn't know much of him, Tom," the major broke in. "She had never been introduced to him when she went to the ball; but he's been here two or three times in the last day or two, and Louise declares he's in love with the child, but that's all bosh, of course. My wife, however, is very much shocked, and insists that Cap'n Frank must be sent to a con- vent to school; she's gone down to Shannondale today, to make the necessary arrangements, and I believe the poor little soul's to be packed off next week. For my own part, I don't approve of the plan; the child won't stay there a month, to begin with; she'll run away and get into all sorts of trouble, for all I know. She was born with a knack of getting into trouble.""True enough, sir," said Lynwold eagerly; "and it seems to me that all these difficulties and anxieties make my plan all the more desirable. This position, as traveling agent for the large and wealthy firm I represent, pays me a handsome salary--and I shall be abroad some two or three years--so if it is necessary that Cap'n Frank's education shall be completed, will be the easiest thing in the world to secure the best private instruction, in the different cities, where from time to time we shall make our home. In a word, sir, there is nothing that can contribute to your niece's well-being or happiness that I will not try to secure for her, if she will consent to go with me as my wife.""And when do you go, my dear fellow?""Next month, sir--about the fifteenth."The old soldier was silent a moment, then he held out his hand."It will go hard with me to part with my little madcap," he said; "but go ahead, Tom--go ahead, my dear fellow.""Thank you, sir," said the young man, his strong voice faltering a little, "you shall never have cause to repent of your confidence in me, and now, sir," he added, with glistening eyes, "can you tell me where to find her?"The major broke out into his jolly laugh."You're too hard for me now, Tom," he said. "You might as well expect me to tell you where to find a wild turkey or a reed bird.""Oh, well," said the young fellow cheerfully, " I shall have to hunt her up, that's all.""Well, by Jove!" reflected the major, when he was left to himself ; "I like the arrangement, and I like Tom Lynwold. There isn't a nobler fellow alive. He knows about that confounded secret--and what a madcap the girl is--yet he is willing and eager to give her the shelter and protection of his love. I shall mortally hate to give the child up--the old house won't be like the same place when she's gone--but I hope she won't be silly enough to refuse him; she won't get another such offer if she lives to be a hundred."The sun hung low in the west, like a brazen ball, and above and around it swirled angry masses of copper-colored mist; while across the river, and above the towering summit of Mount Storm, hung an ugly, cone-shaped cloud, shaken at intervals by hoarse thunders, and pierced by fleeting shafts of lightning."We're in for a cyclone, I believe," said Dick Throckmorton, supplementing the remark with an oath, as he hurried down the shore, with a pair of imported retrievers at his heels, and a silver-mounted breechloader over his shoulder. He was out of temper, for more causes than one, and had been working off his ill feelings by a long tramp through the woods.Hurrying homeward now, before the fast-gathering storm, he was brought to a standstill by a sudden outcry from the two dogs."What the deuce are you after now?" he stammered. "Get home with you."But the dogs kept up their clamor, and went scrambling down the bank, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to find their prey. There was a great rock at hand, and behind it crouched a dark object, that might have been mistaken for a veritable gnome.Throckmorton swore at his dogs--stared a moment, And then demanded fiercely:"What in thunder are you doing here?"A woolly head protruded from the depths of a ragged shawl, and a pair of beady black eyes peered tip at him."I's waitin' fur Cap'n Frank, sah; she dun gone ober ter de Witch's Rock arter gulls' aigs, an' her boat got away."Throckmorton caught the name, and followed the girl's black finger, as she pointed out across the angry river, with a sudden thrill at his heart."What do you say?" he cried. "Tell me quick, or I'll shoot you.""Cap'n Frank dun gone out ter de Witch's Rock arter gulls' aigs," repeated the child, her black face almost blanching with terror, "and her boat got away, Tek this an' yo' kin see," and from under the tattered shawl she produced a small field glass.Throckmorton seized it, and, raising it to his eye, looked out across the angry water. The gloom under the shadow of Mount Storm, above whose summit the storm was about to burst, was fast merging into darkness; but in the coppery glare, reflected from the lurid sunset, the Witch's Rock was visible, a black, irregular mass, rising up in the midst of the seething foal And on its topmost pinnacle, a slim, dark figure, fluttering a white flag."Great heavens! there she is, sure enough," groaned Throckmorton; "and the tide is coming in. In half art hour the Witch's Rock will be submerged."Even while the words were on his lips he threw the field glass in one direction, and his breechloader in another, and went tearing down the shore."If I can only get hold of Arnold's boat," he panted, as he went stumbling on; "it was in the cove this morning."A breathless run of ten or fifteen minutes brought him to the cove. The boat was there, and Tom Lynwold, looking white and frightened, was trying to drag it out beyond the shallows."I want this boat," said Throckmorton, without preface or explanation. "Stand out of my way."He pushed the young man aside as he spoke, and seized hold of the boat; but in a twinkling Tom was back again."Let go of the boat," he cried. "There's a woman out yonder on the Witch's Rock, and the tide's rising. There isn't a second to lose."A sudden peal of thunder came booming across the river, followed by a broad blaze of sheet lightning that seemed to set the black waters all aflame.Throckmorton's face was colorless, and his hands shook, but his black eyes were fairly lurid."I know," he said, with a short laugh; "that's what want the boat for. I'm going to save her myself. Will you get out of my way?""No!""Take that, then."Throckmorton had picked tip one of the oars, and, is he spoke, he dealt Lynwold a blow that sent the poor fellow tumbling head over heels into the shallows; and before he could recover his senses, or regain his feet, Throckmorton had pushed the boat out, and was rapidly leaving the shore.CHAPTER VII. A WILD ESCAPADE.The last ray of daylight had been swallowed up in darkness; even the coppery glare of sunset had faded from the river, and above the black summit of the mountain the storm had burst with terrific fury. Volley after volley of thunder went rattling across the heavens, while the lightning blazed incessantly, now in broad sheets of white flame and anon leaping out like so many flashing scimitars.Midway in the river a little boat might bee seen, tossing and rocking with every motion of the angry waves; and away beyond--almost under the very shadow of Mount Storm--the Witch's Rock towered up like an unsightly specter, but the figure was no longer visible on its summit.Cap'n Frank, with all her madcap spirit and daring had found it impossible to keep her perilous position. The winds were so strong, as they came sweeping down the mountainside and along the shore, that they quite took away her breath; the white signal flag was torn from her hand and sent fluttering out, like a storm-driven dove, across the angry water; and, with her bright curls blown about her white, excited face, breathless, panting, and half beside herself with terror, the poor girl had clambered down and crept for shelter into a hollow, formed in one side of the huge rock, and known as the Witch's Cave.Only temporary shelter, however. For the time she was protected from the fury of the wind and the drenching rain; the thunders rattled harmlessly overhead, and only the flash and reflection of the blazing lightning reached her; but the tide was coming in.Already she could hear the faint, indescribable swash and rustle of the rising waters. Slowly but surely they were creeping up, higher and higher every moment; already the base of the rock was submerged, and in a little while the white foam would reach her place of shelter; then the angry waters would come seething and swirling in, and she would be overwhelmed and drowned and swept out and on with the strong, swift current.She was a brave girl, but in the face of a fate so appalling, a heart far stouter and stronger would have failed.Crouching far back in the little cave--where, only a few hours previous, happy and light of heart, she had clambered about in her reckless fashion, searching in every cleft and cranny for gulls' egg's--the poor child put her fingers in her ears to shut out the horrible rush and roar of the storm, and buried her face in her lap that she might not see the awful glare of the lightning."This is punishment for my disobedience," she said to herself. "I've been a wicked, willful girl all my life, and this is the end of it. How often Uncle Jack has warned me not to go alone on the river! The very last words he said to me when I left home to-day were: keep clear of the river; we're in for a blow before night, if I'm not very much mistaken. But I wouldn't listen. I never do listen to what people say to me, that's why I'm always getting into trouble. But all the trouble I've ever had was nothing compared to this."I don't think I'm a coward; I shouldn't be afraid to die at home, with some one I love to kiss me and hold my hand; but out here, all alone in the dark with the waters rising every moment, to be obliged to sit here and wait for death--oh, it is horrible, horrible!"She sobbed in a miserable, childish way, her face still hidden; then, removing her fingers from her ears she listened intently. But no sound, save the hoarse roar of the angry river, and at intervals the crash and rattle of the storm, could be heard."I thought somebody would come in search of me, the girl went on, covering her face again. "Surely Trix had sense enough to go home and tell when she saw the storm coming and found that my boat had go loose, but they're afraid to venture on the river, I suppose, in a blow like this. Tom wouldn't be afraid --Tom would come to me if he knew of my danger, at the risk of his life, but he doesn't know--he's miles and miles away, and thinks I'm safe and happy at home."Since her earliest remembrance, Tom Lynwold had been Cap'n Frank's stanch friend. Years before, when he was nothing but a youth, and she a curly-headed sprite in pinafores, Tom made the voyage from York to Aspinwall on her father's vessel, and a great friendship sprung tip between the two. On a certain occasion, when the little girl, always restless and unmanagable, tumbled overboard, the brave lad saved her life at the risk of his own.In later years this boy-and-girl friendship had in no wise diminished, but had deepened, rather, into a feeling of trust and good-fellowship, and in all the girl's straits and difficulties, and they were not a few, Tom was her unfailing refuge. No matter who blamed her, or how grave her error might be, she felt sure that Tom would be her champion and take her part.One little episode of her early life Cap'n Frank never forgot. It happened on a summer day, when a good many things had gone wrong with her, and she was in one of her wildest moods.Even Uncle Jack had been a trifle severe, and Tom being absent, the little madcap made up her mind to run away. The notion, once in her curly head, grew and thrived, and in due course of time the attempt was made. Putting a few of her best frocks and some other requisite articles into a small traveling bag, and getting together every stray penny, Cap'n Frank hung her one article of jewelry, a queer old Roman locket attached to a heavy gold chain, about her neck, and was ready for her escapade. She summoned Trix, a little black girl, who seemed never to have been younger, and, apparently, grew no older as time went by, and loading her with a small sack of provisions, the two set out one lovely evening, just at set of sun, to seek their fortunes."We'll go to the crossroads," said Cap'n Frank, "and toss pennies to find out which direction to take."So down the zigzag wood path, and across the fields to the crossroads, they went, Cap'n Frank trudging bravely on, with the traveling bag hung on a stout stick and carried across her shoulder, and little black Trix trotting obediently behind, with the sack of provisions deftly carried on her flat, woolly head. They, made a striking picture, to say the least.The summer sun was going down with great pomp and glory when they reached the crossroads."Now," said Cap'n Frank, lowering her burden, "here we are. This road leads over the mountain, and that one across Back Creek Valley. Now, Trix, we'll toss cents, and find out which road to take.""All right," assented Trix. "I's got two centses" --producing two old-fashioned coppers.Cap'n Frank took them, and called out in high glee:"Well, here goes. If it's heads, we take the right hand road, and go over the mountain; if it's tails, we turn to the left, and across Back Creek Valley."She tossed the cents, and when they came down on the green turf at her feet, both coins had the heads upward; so the two travelers took the road that led over the mountain.Darkness overtook them, and they were footsore and weary by the time they reached the summit; so Cap'n Frank ordered a halt, and under the shadow of a great rock, at the foot of which bubbled a mountain spring, they ate their frugal supper, and made themselves comfortable for the night."Isn't it grand Trix?" said Cap'n Frank, when she had laid herself down on the soft grass, and made a pillow of her traveling bag. "Don't you like it? Look at the stars, how they shine overhead, and just hear the wind in the trees! We'll never want to live in a house again, after this, shall we?""I dunno," whimpered Trix, trying vainly to cover her head with the scant skirt of her plaid frock while visions of her cabin home, with its blazing wood fire, floated before her tired eyes.No one can tell what a day may bring forth. The summer night was cloudless, but the morning dawned with leaden skies, and a fine, penetrating rain."What shall we do, Trix?" said Cap'n Frank, her gay spirits beginning to flag."Go back," whispered the little negress promptly; but her mistress would not listen to such a thing. They had set out to seek their fortunes, and she meant to go on. So they took up the line of march again, but the rain increased to a downpour, and they were driven at last to seek shelter in a little cabin perched high on the mountainside.An old woman, who might have been one of Macbeth's witches, came out to meet them."What is it ye want, my purty dear? Shelter from the rain and a bite o' breakfast? To be sure--to be sure--but lemme see the money first--then ye may come in.""We've got the money," answered Cap'n Frank proudly, "we're not beggars;" and she proceeded at once to produce her purse. It was hidden for safekeeping in her bosom, and in getting at it, she drew forth the old Roman locket suspended from the curiously linked chain.The old woman's eyes caught sight of the glittering trinket, and she darted forward with a wild screech. "Lemme see it--how did you, come by it? Lemme take it in my hand!" she cried.But Cap'n Frank drew back, her heart beating fast."No, no. You can't touch it, she said. "I've worn it all my life. It belonged to my mother."The old hag threw tip her shriveled hands, and uttered a second cry."Your mother? How d'ye know? Tell me--tell me; do ye hear?"Cap'n Frank had a temper, and the old creature's impudent manner roused it."I won't tell you," she answered stoutly ; "it is none of your business. Come, Trix," nodding to her little black attendant, "let's go on; I guess we can stand the rain."And on she went, in spite of the old woman s protestations and entreaties.How the matter would have ended if the madcap had been left to her own wild will can only be imagined, for at that moment a young man, mounted on a gray pony, appeared in sight.Trix's sharp eyes spied him first, and she uttered a screech of delight:"Cap'n Frank, Cap'n Frank, heah's Mas'r Tom!"The young man rode up, and, dismounting from his horse, went at once to the madcap's side."I have been hunting for you the livelong night, Cap'n Frank," he said. "Thank Heaven, I've found you at last. You must go back home with me, my dear."So that was the end of the escapade.Cap'n Frank went back, not unwillingly, and, as usual, Tom made it all right for her: but neither one of them could ever quite forget the old mountain woman's parting words."Keep your bit o' brass locket, an' bad luck to ye!" she had screeched, shaking her fist at Cap'n Frank as she left the cabin. "If ye'd ha' been civil, and answered my question, there's a secret I might ha' told ye, which ye'll be glad enough to hear one o' these days; but now I intend to hold my tongue.""'Hold it, then; nobody cares," Cap'n Frank had answered promptly. But, for some reason, in the days that followed, the old woman's words haunted her.CHAPTER VIII. THE JAWS OF DEATH.But now, in an hour of even sorer need, Tom was miles and miles away; and cry and implore as she might, her voice could not reach his ears.The roar of the rising river grew louder and more appalling, and, crouching down in the hollow of the rock, face to face as it were with death, Cap'n Frank thought of all this, and of the home that was lost to her forever.The safe old home, with the cheerful lights shining through the windows, and Uncle Jack sitting in his armchair before the open fireplace, wondering what had become of his little madcap; and her own little room, with the sweet white roses nodding in at the windows, and the little brown wrens twittering in their nests beneath the sloping eaves. Such a sweet, safe home; but, like the lost hopes and possibilities of a wasted life, it seemed forever beyond her reach in the pitiless darkness.And every moment while she crouched there in the hollow of the rock, thinking, thinking, with her face hidden in her hands; the river was steadily rising, and at intervals the terrified girl felt the great rock quake and shudder to its very foundations."It will soon be over, she said to herself with a piteous sob. "Good-by, Uncle Jack; good-by, Tom--I shall never see you again."Then, raising herself to a kneeling position and clasping her hands, the unhappy child tried to say her prayers, as she did every night, kneeling beside her little white bed. But before she could finish the simple petition, her overstrained nerves failed her suddenly, and she sank down, fainting and insensible, on the cold, wet rocks.Meanwhile, out on the angry river, the little boat still tossed and struggled--one moment making a little headway, and the next thrown out of its course by the force of the strong current.Almost any other man but Dick Throckmorton would have given up in despair, but his obstinate will and strength of purpose stood him well."I won't give it up," he said, his teeth set together, and his black eyes ablaze. "I'll save her, or die in the attempt."Then, desperate, reckless, defying the very elements, and almost Him who rules them, he struggled on in the teeth of the howling gale.The thunder crashed overhead and the lightning blazed, and in the yellow glare the Witch's Rock loomed tip like a black specter, but the slender figure was no longer visible on its summit.Throckmorton uttered a fierce imprecation, but in no wise slackened his efforts to gain the rock."I won't give up," he said; "she must be there, and I'm bound to save her."At last with incredible difficulty, and more, perhaps, by the force of his obstinate amid unyielding will, than his superhuman efforts, he reached the goal. In other words, the little storm-beaten boat touched the base of the Witch's Rock.The storm had lulled in a measure, and the wild waters seethed for the moment to have reached a standpoint.Throckmorton succeeded in getting his boat into a sheltered position, and then resting on his oars, scanned the rugged rock, towering tip above the swirling foam, with anxious eyes.But no trace or semblance of a living creature could be seen.The strong man shuddered, and his face looked white and haggard in the gloom.For a minute he seemed at a loss what to do; then putting his list to his lips, he gave utterance to a cry that might have waked the dead.There came no response in answer, and the desperate man lifted up his voice again. And this time the shout roused Cap'n Frank from her semiunconsciousness. She lifted her head, listening intently.A third time the shout rang out, clear and strong above the rush and roar of wind and water, and the girl, catching the sound, cried out, with a frantic burst of gratitude and joy:"It is Tom, it is Tom! He has come to save me!"In another minute she had groped her way out of the cave, and stood on a ledge of the rock, her slender figure thrown out like a silhouette against the glare of lightning.Throckmorton caught sight of her, and for a moment his strength almost failed him. Controlling himself, however, by a superhuman effort, he made the boat as secure as he could, and with a few strong leaps, gained the girl's side."I've found you--I've saved you!" he cried, his voice hoarse with excitement, as he caught her in his arms. "I've saved you from death, and you are mine forevermore. No power on earth or in heaven shall take you from me."CHAPTER IX. A BAFFLED LOVER."There's a but a little way up the mountainside-- we must try to reach it. You can't stay here all night.""Why can't we go home?""The river lies between us and Beechcroft, and unluckily the boat is a wreck."Cap'n Frank was seated on a gray rock on the river brink in regular mermaid fashion, and with her drenched garments, white face, and tangled golden hair, she bore a marked resemblance, no doubt, to that mythical creature.Throckmorton, standing a little apart, looked somewhat the worse for his fierce encounter with the elements. It had only been by the skin of his teeth, to use a homely saying, that he had made the short distance between the Witch's Rock and the strip of rough shore land at the foot of Mount Storm. The river was high and rough, and the wind blowing a hurricane, and it was all he could do to get the little shell safe to land. Indeed, more than he could do, for at the last moment his oar had snapped in two, and the boat had been carried out with a force that drove her against the rocks and crushed in her prow.The storm, however, had spent its fury, the river "/> was slowly subsiding into a sullen calm, and above the mountain peak, dimly seen through the breaking clouds, a great silver-white moon was rising.Throckmorton looked down at the girl whose life he had saved, his dark eyes hot with passion.Something in her air and manner, as she sat perched on the gray rock, seemed to rouse his temper."I've risked life and limb a dozen times for her tonight," he thought, "and she hasn't even looked at me, or offered me her hand."After a moment the girl arose to her feet, and looked out across the tossing river, on which the silver light of the rising moon was falling in fitful gleams."Ah! if we were only on the other side," she said. "Why on earth didn't you head the other way, Mr. Throckmorton? What made you come over here?""I couldn't go against wind and tide," he said, a trifle indignantly. "It was a pretty tough pull to make even this landing. I did the best I could, Miss Crawford.""Oh, I dare say you did," she answered carelessly, and I'm under ever so many obligations, of course. I didn't find it at all pleasant out there on the Witch's Rock.""Weren't you awfully frightened?" asked Throckmorton curiously."No, I wasn't so much frightened. But I didn't want to die out there in the dark. I thought." she added, her blue eyes softening and spooning and a "/> fleeting flush warming her white checks, "when I heard you calling, I thought it was Tom--he always comes to my rescue when I get into trouble."Throckmorton ground out an oath through his shut teeth."Tom be cursed," he said, under his breath, "I hope I killed him.""What a row there'll be at Beechcroft!" continued the girl reflectively. "I shall be packed off to the convent in double-quick time after this. I should enjoy the hubbub, now the danger's over," she added, with an amused laugh, "if it weren't for Uncle Jack. He'll never forgive me. Look here, Mr. Throckmorton, how do you suppose we're going to get home?""Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," the young mate replied. "I'm concerned at present about getting you into comfortable quarters. You can't stay here all night.""What time is it?"Throckmorton consulted his watch by the light of the rising moon."Not quite eleven.""Good gracious! I fancied it was almost daybreak. It seems half a lifetime since I stood out yonder on the Witch's Rock, and watched my boat as it drifted away. I wonder what has become of it?""Your boat? It has gone over the rapids long ago." Cap'n Frank shrugged her shoulders."We're in a fix, sure enough," she said, "and I can't see my way out.""I can, then," said Throckmorton; "I'll take you to the hut on the mountainside now, and to-morrow morning I'll go down to Tulliver's Landing and hire a boat to take us over the river.The girl reflected a moment or two, and then made a gesture of disapprobation."No that won't do," she said "I should never hear the last of it; and Uncle Jack would never forgive me in the world. I'll tell you how we'll manage it.""Very well.""Are you willing to do me a kindness, Mr. Throckmorton?""Try me and see.""All right, I will. We'll go up to the hut on the mountainside to-night, as you say. Then to-morrow morning you shall go your way and leave me to go mine, with this understanding: You are never to open your mouth about what has happened to-night. Will you promise?""Not until I know what you intend to do." "Nonsense! why should that concern you?""How can you ask me a question like that?" said Throckmorton reproachfully. "Don't you suppose I'm concerned about your welfare?""Oh, perhaps you are, but there's no need. I'm quite able to take care of myself, Mr. Throckmorton.""I beg your pardon, Cap'n Frank." he said, smiling, "but the record of the last few hours doesn't go to prove it."The madcap's velvety eyes were beginning to kindle, and the wild-rose bloom to come hack to her cheeks."It isn't handsome of you to tell me so, at any rate," she retorted."Perhaps not; but I feel bound to keep you out of further trouble, after what has happened. You must tell me what your plans are before I can promise.""Oh, well, I'll tell you: I shall go over the mountain, to Clarksburg, where a friend of mine lives, and from that place I shall send a telegram to Tom, and he'll come after me, and make it all right with Uncle Jack, if you'll only promise to hold your tongue. Will you?""No, by Heaven!" cried Throckmorton, quite carried away by his jealous temper. "What do you take me for? Here I've risked my life for you a dozen times over, and right on top of it you ask me to turn you over to Tom. Why can't you go home with me?"The girl watched him curiously, fascinated in spite of herself by his intense passion, like the bird that is charmed by a serpent."Why can't you go home with me?" he repeated. "It is to me--not to Tom Lynwold--you owe your life.""Oh, there's no need to remind me of that; I know it," replied Cap'n Frank, with a stately little nod; "and I intend to be duly grateful. But there'll be such a startling story to tell, and Uncle Jack will be dreadfully put out when he hears all the details. Besides, you are a stranger, you see, Mr. Throckmorton, and Tom is my best friend, and ever since I can remember, he's been getting me out of scrapes. There's just the difference, you see."She looked so pretty, standing there in the moonlight, with her golden hair all in a silken tangle about her lily-fair face, and such a starry light in her blue eyes, that Throckmorton quite lost his head."I can suggest a much better plan; one that will do away with all difficulties, if you'll only consent to it," he said, his voice trembling a little, and his dark eyes beginning to glow."Let's hear what it is, then," said Cap'n Frank.Throckmorton approached her suddenly, and attempted to take her hands, but she promptly put them behind her back."I'm all attention, Mr. Throckmorton, she suggested, after a moment."Can't you guess what I am going to say?" he demanded, dropping on one knee at her feet. "You can't help knowing. I love you, Cap'n Frank, I have loved you from the first moment I set eyes on your sweet face. No, no, don't try to escape. You shall hear me."She had turned from him, both startled and afraid, and was on the point of slaking her escape; but he caught hold of her arm, and forcibly drew her back."You shall hear me." he repeated. "I had not intended to speak so soon, but why not now as well as later? Cap'n Frank, I love you with my whole heart. I want you for my wife. Don't interrupt me--hear what I have to say. I want you for my wife. I made up my mind the day of the fox hunt, when you galloped away and left me, that you should be mine."Mr. Throckmorton, let me go!""You must hear me first. What is the use of waiting? Why can't you make me happy at once. Come with me now to the hut on the mountainside, and tomorrow morning we will go to the nearest town, and there I will make you my wife. When you go back to Beechcroft as the mistress of Throckmorton Hall," he added, "there won't be any need of explanations. Don't you see?""Have you finished at last?" said the girl, freeing herself from his grasp. "May I be allowed to speak? I ask, then, if you don't consider yourself a fine fellow --a generous, noble gentleman--to insult a girl in this way, when she is helpless and quite at your mercy?""I am not insulting you," he cried, "I mean every word I say. I love you, and wish to shield you from all unpleasant consequences and comments. I want to take you back to Beechcroft as my wife. My dear little girl, you must consent. Don't you see that it is the only safe way out of your difficulties?""I think there's a shorter way," she replied, with a laugh. "Much obliged for the offer, Mr. Throckmorton, but I couldn't think of accepting it. I bid you good night, sir," and tearing herself free of the young man's grasp, Cap'n Frank leaped swiftly from rock to rock, and went running up the mountainside with the speed of a chamois."Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Throckmorton. "What a wild creature she is! But I'll tame her--I'll tame her in time. Stop, Cap'n Frank!"The ringing shout filled the night with answering echoes, but Cap'n Frank took no heed. Indeed, it is doubtful whether she even heard, so intent was she upon making her escape.Up the mountainside she went, fleet and agile as any wild creature of the wood, and Throckmorton, after one bewildered moment, followed.The novelty of the thing pleased him, and stirred his blood. His breath came hard and fast, and his black eyes glittered, as he went leaping from rock to rock in hot pursuit."I wonder if she thinks to escape?" he said to himself. "The charming little coquette! I'll overtake to her now, and carry my point if it costs me my life."On he west, the girl fluttering up the steep path only a few yards ahead. In another moment he would overtake her--hold her fast in his arms, and she would be his own forever and ever.The thought stirred his blood like wine, and set all his pulses in a mad dance.Yes, she should be his own--his wife, in spite of all the world, and such a lovely, bewildering wife, in spite of all the world, and such a lovely, bewildering wife as she would make!The simple thought made him blind and dizzy with delight."Stop, Cap'n Frank!" he shouted. "Wait for me--do you hear? Wait for me, my darling."But the girl only went the faster. Her pursuer quickened his pace, made a false step, and fell.He was up again in a moment, however, with no bones broken; but a moment tells when one is running a race. Looking ahead of him, and drawing a long breath for a fresh start, he found that the girl was gone quite out of sight. But he would soon overtake her.He pictured her panting, breathless, yielding, and his blood leaped to his heart like flame."Cap'n Frank, wait, my love!"There was no response; but the mad lover dashed on, looking from side to side, with eager eyes. He would find her presently--she was leading him on--she was playing at hide and seek, the mischievous little madcap.On he went, until his breath became short, and his temper began to rise. He stopped and looked about him, then lifting up his voice, shouted until the mountain reverberated with the echoes. But Cap'n Frank did not answer."What the deuce has the girl done with herself?" said Throckmorton, greatly amazed. "She couldn't have got this far--she's hiding among the rocks. I've left her behind me."Then slowly and patiently he retraced his steps, looking in every nook and cranny, and under every bush, but the girl was nowhere to be found.The clouds had cleared off by this time, and the full moon soaring upward flooded the mountainside and the river with silver light. The whippoorwills fluttered out of their hiding places, and made the night vocal with their monotonous cry; and at intervals the wailing howl of some wild beast, whose lair was high tip amid the mountain peaks, filled the silence with dismal echoes.Throckmorton shuddered, and his dark face grew pale."What a fool I was," he said, with bitter self-accusation. "Why couldn't I hold my tongue and wait? The chances are that the poor girl will perish, after all. What cursed fool I am!"And up and down, calling and waiting and watching --peering into every possible place of concealment he went, retracing his steps along the winding moun- tain path again and again, until at last the eventful night was ended, and in the east, far beyond the sullen river, gray of dawn appeared.Hopeless and heartsick, the disappointed and baffled man went down to the shore, just in time to hear the keel of a trim little dory grate upon the sands, and to see a man leap out and come running toward him. It was Tom Lynwold.CHAPTER X. A Hand-to-hand Encounter.The two men looked at each other for a moment without speaking, and in that brief time Throckmorton decided what course he would pursue. Having decided, he broke the silence."Well," he questioned, a trifle insolently, "what have you got to say?""A good deal when the proper time comes," answered Tom quietly. "At present, I want to know what has become of Miss Crawford. Can you tell me?""I am not Miss Crawford's keeper."Fortunately, Lynwold possessed in a high degree that admirable self-command which makes a man his own master, even under the most trying circumstances."I know that, sir," he said, speaking with quiet self-control, while he looked his rival squarely in the face, "but you took possession of the only available boat on the river, and started out to rescue the young lady from her perilous position on the Witch's Rock. Did you succeed?""There's the boat," answered Throckmorton, shrugging his shoulders, as he pointed at the battered shell; "it speaks for itself. Miss Crawford isn't in it, you see."Tom drew a heavy breath, and his haggard face grew a shade whiter.The agony of the past night was beginning to tell on his nerves, and to unfit him for this added suspense and vexation."No, she isn't in the boat," he said, his voice trembling a little in spite of himself. "Do you mean to make me understand, Mr. Throckmorton, that you know nothing about the girl? She was on the rock out yonder, and you got off before the blow. Did you succeed in saving her or not?""It was all I could do to save myself," answered Throckmorton insolently. "Why didn't you try your hand? You might have had better luck."Tom's blue-gray eves flashed like a drawn sword, but he kept a strong hold on his temper."Never mind about that now," he replied; "answer my question. Do you know anything about Miss Crawford?""If you mean Cap'n Frank, she was on the summit of the Witch's Rock yesterday afternoon."Tom was quivering from head to foot by this time, but he managed to control his voice."I know that," he said; "I had seen her there, and was going to her assistance when you took possession of my boat. Did you succeed in reaching the rock? Did you save the girl's life? Answer me--yes, or no?" Throckmorton turned on his heel, with an insolent laugh."Perhaps I did and perhaps I didn't," he said; "I'll leave you to find out at your leisure."The point when patience ceases to be a virtue was reached.Tom made a sudden spring, and, seizing Throckmorton by the throat, forced him back against the rocks."You insolent scoundrel, what do you mean?" he demanded, his voice quivering with repressed fury. "Tell me the truth, or I won't leave life in your worthless body. Did you save Miss Crawford or not?""It won't matter to you, one way or the other, when I'm done with you, you impudent beggar!" panted Throckmorton, struggling to his feet.And as he uttered the words he aimed a deadly blow at Tom's head, which the latter skillfully parried. Then the two men closed with each other, and a fearful struggle ensued.They were about equally matched in strength, and both terribly in earnest; and there is no telling what might have followed if the conflict had not been brought to an abrupt termination, and the two combatants startled almost out of their senses by a most unexpected occurrence.While they were engaged in pummeling each other like a pair of prize fighters, the object of their joint solicitude appeared like a fair apparition on the rocks above them.There she stood, for one fleeting moment, pallid and disheveled, hit with a blazing light in there eyes, as she looked down at the two men struggling so desperately on the sands below.Then her clear, young voice rang out like a trumpet:"What are you doing down there? Tom Lynwold, I'm ashamed of you. Let Mr. Throckmorton alone and come here to me. Do you hear?"If a thunderbolt had exploded over their heads, the two men could not have been more startled.Their arms fell instantly to their sides, and with one impulse they turned toward the speaker.There she stood on the top of a rough, gray rock, the rose flush of early dawn on her fair face and golden hair.Tom Lynwold tittered an exclamation of intense gratitude, but Throckmorton stifled an oath between his set teeth.Both men rushed forward, however, with outstretched hands."Thank Heaven you are alive," cried Tom, his voice trembling with emotion. "But no thanks to you, sir," the girl retorted. "I might have been at the bottom of the river this morning, for all the effort you've put forth to save me.""You're a very clever hand at playing hide and seek, Miss Crawford," put in Throckmorton, with mocking significance."I'm sorry I can't return the compliment, and pronounce you a clever hand at finding, Mr. Throckmorton," returned the madcap glibly.Then she broke into a peal of laughter that filled the silence with musical echoes."A pretty pair you are, to be sure!" she cried--"doing your best to blacken each other's eyes, like two overgrown schoolboys. I don't know how it is with Mr. Throckmorton," she added, "but I should imagine, Tom, that you would feel heartily ashamed of yourself.""I shall shortly, no doubt," answered the young man good-naturedly, "but for the present I can only rejoice because you are alive. Come, Cap'n Frank, I must take you home now--my boat is down on the shore yonder."She hesitated a moment, glancing covertly toward Throckmorton, who stood a little apart in sullen silence; then, giving Tom her dimpled hand, she suffered him to lead her down from her lofty perch.The sun was coming in sight by this time, and in the shallows at the foot of the mountain the trim little boat was waiting."Come," said Tom, his voice thrilling with tenderness; "now that I've found you, the sooner we get off the better. You can imagine how anxious your uncle is all this time. Let me put you in the boat, Cap'n Frank."The girl hesitated an instant, and then turned toward Throckmorton, who was slowly following."I'm ever so much obliged to you for saving my life, Mr. Throckmorton," she said smilingly, "and I shall make it a point to return the kindness whenever an occasion offers. I bid you good morning, sir.""Throckmorton bowed in grim silence, taking no notice of the girl's proffered hand.His compressed lips were almost colorless, and his dark eyes blazed with anger.Tom Lynwold took Cap'n Frank's hand, and, drawing it within his arm, started clown to the boat, but almost immediately he turned back again.His nature was too noble and chivalrous to allow him to treat even his mortal enemy unkindly."It doesn't seem the right thing to leave you here, under the circumstances, Mr. Throckmorton," he said frankly. "Since your boat isn't seaworthy, I can make room for you in mine. I had made up my mind that there must be a settlement between us sooner or later," he added, "but in my gratitude to you for having saved Miss Crawford's life I can forgive all the rest. Suppose we shake hands on it, and you let me take you over the river?"He held out his hand as he spoke, but Throckmorton struck it aside with a brutal blow."Curse you!" he said hoarsely. "It shall be war between us henceforth--war to the knife.""As you like, sir," replied Tom coolly. "I have a lady on my hands now, but at any other time you'll find me at your service. Come, Cap'n Frank."And without another word or a backward glance, he led the girl down to the boat."Isn't he a bear?" she remarked, when she had been comfortably disposed of, and the boat was under way, looking over her shoulder at the solitary figure, still standing on the receding shore. "Hasn't he got a temper of his own?"Tom looked anxious and troubled."Mr. Throckmorton is a man for whom I have but little respect," he replied. "I'm sorry I've been brought in contact with him.""There was no need," said the girl unreasonably. "What did you get into a row with him for? It takes two to make a quarrel--or a fight either, for that matter.""You don't quite understand the circumstances," said Tom gently. "I had great provocation.""And I suppose you'll make things disagreeable every time you happen to meet each other," continued his companion pettishly, her eyes still turned toward the shore. "I detest anything like that. You might bear in mind. I think, that Mr. Throckmorton saved my life.""I shall not be likely to forget it," Tom replied, his voice quivering with a passionate pain that threatened to master him. "I wish the obligation did not exist.""Well, now that's a nice thing to say, Tom. You wish I had been left to my fate last night, then?""No, Cap'n Frank, you know better than that. But I wish, with my whole heart, I could have saved you myself. I should have saved you, if Throckmorton hadn't taken forcible possession of the boat at the last moment." he added bitterly.Cap'n Frank opened her velvety eyes, and then broke into a ringing laugh."Forcible possession she repeated ; "why, that means that you let him take the boat away from you! Tom, you surely didn't do that? Well, what a joke!"The young man winced, as if she had struck him a sharp blow. The feeling that Throckmorton had got the best of him was growing upon him."I wouldn't have believed you'd submit to such a thing," the girl went on thoughtlessly, still watching the receding shore. "I was sure you'd come for me, when I was out there on the rock, but you didn't. My, but I hate to think of it! I could hear the waters come creeping up, and feel the rock shake and tremble; and it was awfully dark, only when the lightning blazed--""Don't, child," said Tom, his face ashen white, and his strong hands trembling; "I can't bear to hear it.""Nonsense!" she said, with a gay little laugh; "I had to bear the reality--all by myself, too. I never expected to see home again. I had said my prayers," she added, her voice breaking a little, "and was waiting for death, when I heard some one calling. I was sure it was you. I answered, 'Tom! Tom!' but it was Mr. Throckmorton! Ah, that's the last glimpse of him! See! he is waving his hat! Good-by! good-by!" and, catching the scarf from her neck, she fluttered it out in the morning sunshine.Tom made no answer. The girl's thoughtless words were like so many sharp dagger thrusts. He did not tell her how he had worked and watched through the long hours of the terrible night--how he had put out his boat again and again, only to be driven back by the howling gale. He said nothing of the anguish he had suffered, the frantic prayers he had offered up for her safety; he only sat there, dumb and miserable, feeling that she did not understand him, that Throckmorton had got the best of him in everything.Cap'n Frank was silent, too, for a moment, her eyes downcast, one hand trailing in the water as the little boat sped on. Presently she broke out into a peal of merry laughter."It was too bad for us to leave Mr. Throckmorton all by himself on the other side," she said, "He's having a dreadful time of it, poor fellow. I don't suppose he'll ever trouble himself to save my life again. I played him the cutest trick last night. Oh, Tom, it was such fun.""Where did you stay last night?" the young man asked, turning round and regarding her curiously. "I had forgotten to ask.""You remember the cave where we left our dinner basket the day we had the picnic on the mountain? Well, I stayed there."Tom hesitated a moment, his lips quivering nervously, and his breathing rapid."And--and Throckmorton?" he questioned, at last. "What did he do?""Wandered up and down the mountain like a restless ghost," laughed the madcap. "I'm sure he's awfully tired out this morning. I'11 tell you how it was, Tom: He, Mr. Throckmorton, I mean, got 'spoony' after he'd gotten me safe to land, and tried to persuade me to run off and marry him, and go back to Beechcroft as mistress of Throckmorton Hall. And I watched for a chance, and ran up the mountain and hid in the cave. The simpleton spent the livelong night in trying to find me. If he clambered up and down the mountainside once, he slid twenty times, peeping into every hole and corner, as if I were a wood mouse. Oh, I nearly laughed myself to death, hiding there in the cave and watching him.""He didn't find you, then?" questioned her companion, in a repressed voice."Why, no, of course he didn't. I had just that minute roused up from a sort of cat nap when you and Throckmorton began fighting. I was awfully glad to see you, Tom. But what under the sun were you fighting about? That's what I want to know."Throckmorton provoked me," said Tom."Provoked you? Good gracious! what a lame excuse! Why didn't you keep your temper? I was more surprised in my life than when I say you playing at fisticuffs. I'm afraid Mr. Throckmorton won't forgive you in a hurry.""I shan't ask his forgiveness.""Well, I suppose not. Tom," she said abruptly, her bright face clouding suddenly, "Tom, was Uncle Jack very anxious about me?""How could it be otherwise, Cap'n Frank? The blow was terrific on our side of the river; we were sure you had perished. We spent the night on the shore.""Oh, that was terrible ! Poor, dear Uncle Jack! What a wicked, wicked girl I am! Tom, I can't go back to Beechcroft--I can't, indeed.""Oh, yes, you can. Never mind, dear, never mind; I'll make it all right for you."The madcap let her head droop forward until it rested against his shoulder, and, all in a moment fell to sobbing and crying like a baby."That's always the way," she said; "no matter what I do, you always make it right for me. What should I do without you, dear, dear old Tom?"The young man's strong frame quivered with repressed passion, and the words he so earnestly desired to speak were on his very lips, but for some cause his courage failed him."I cannot speak to her now," he said to himself; "I must wait for a more fitting opportunity."CHAPTER XI. A RECKLESS PROMISE."There never was another creature like her since the world began. She shall be mine--I swear it--no matter at what cost."Dick Throckmorton uttered these words under his breath, his black eyes glowing with passion, and every nerve in his strong frame thrilling with mad delight.Wholly unconscious of his presence, Cap'n Frank stood just opposite, in the summer moonlight, an expression of wrapt enthusiasm on her lovely face, her happy young soul borne upward and away on the trills and waves of exquisite melody her skillful hands were evoking.The girl's chief accomplishment consisted in her skill as a violinist. Her aptitude for music was far above the average, and in addition to this, her advantages had been considerable.While abroad with her uncle--and, indeed, before her father's death--she had from time to time received instructions from some of the most noted professionals of the Old World.Her instrument, too, was a small fortune of itself--a genuine Cremona, of the costliest make--which at one time had belonged to a famous old master. This violin, dear to the girl as heart's blood, had come to her with the old Roman locket from the dead mother, whose face she could not remember.Whenever the world went ill with her--and it often did, in consequence of her madcap pranks--Cap'n Frank sought solace and comfort from her precious Cremona.The poor child was in sore trouble that summer night. She was to go to the convent the next day. The whole thing was settled, and, her trunks packed, in readiness for an early start. Mrs. Crawford had carried her point.This was grievance enough. To be obliged to abandon her happy life, to leave dear old Beechcroft, and everything she loved, and be shut up like a prisoner, within four stone walls, and compelled to spoil her eyes, and make herself old over a pack of stupid books. This was grievance enough, but there was something worse--a trouble greater and more inconsolable which had sent the poor, remorseful little madcap to her old violin for comfort that night.She had not told a living creature, not even Tom. There had been so much hubbub and excitement over her late escape from death, that the poor child was quite disgusted, and resolved not to give her friends cause for a fresh demonstration; so she kept her secret to herself, and went to her old Cremona for comfort.A trivial cause for trouble it may seem, but Cap'n Frank took it sorely to heart. She had lost the old Roman locket, her mother's dying legacy.Uncle Jack had told her the story scores of times, when her mother lay on her deathbed, she took from her own neck, and said to those about her:"This is for the child, tell her to keep it as long as she lives. There's a secret connected with it she may be glad to know one of these days."What the secret was neither Uncle Jack nor Cap'n Frank had ever been able to guess, and now they would never know, for the queer old locket was gone. That summer afternoon, when, in defiance of her uncle's orders, the madcap took her little boat and went out to the Witch's Rock in search of gulls' eggs, she had the old locket, suspended from the curious chain, about her neck; and when she got back to Beechcroft, after the night of her great peril and rescue, it was gone.So the poor child was quite out of spirits that night; and, as was her habit, she went to her Cremona for comfort. Out in the summer moonlight, with the beech leaves whispering and rustling above her head, she played as she had never done before. Soft, wailing melodies, full of heartbroken sweetness, stirring martial airs that seemed to suggest the rattle of 'musketry, the braying of bugles, and the tramp of armed men; impassioned love songs, jolly merry-go-rounds, and old-fashioned reels that made the very whippoorwills in the thicket and the katydids in the trees grow drunk and dizzy as they listened.When the music ceased, and the girl threw her violin on the grass, and herself beside it, Dick Throckmorton emerged from the shadows, with a flushed face and gleaming eyes."I have been listening while you played," he said, in a repressed voice. "You are a wonderful performer, Cap'n Frank.""That depends," she said, springing to her feet."Depends on what?""The hearer's capacity for judging, and my own mood. I played well to-night because I'm all out of sorts.""I should think being out of sorts would cause you to play ill.""Oh, no, I seek comfort from my music when I'm in trouble.""Are you in trouble tonight?""Loads of it. Won't you come on to the house? Having exorcised my evil spirit, I must go in.""Not just yet--allow me a very few moments. Why are you in trouble? Won't you tell me?""I go to the convent tomorrow, to begin with.""It is true, then?""That I go? As true as Holy Writ.""You don't want to go, do you?"Cap'n Frank shrugged her shoulders as she picked tip her violin, and began to strum on the strings."Whether I want to go or not doesn't alter the case --the edict has gone forth. If you won't go to the house I must say good-by, Mr. Throckmorton--a long good-by, perhaps. The chances are that I shall take the black veil, and be a cloistered nun."Throckmorton drew nearer, his eyes gleaming, his breath coming fast."Don't talk to me like that," he said hoarsely. "It is like adding fuel to fire. If you were a nun, I'd batter down the doors of the convent and take you out."The girl laughed derisively, but at the same time her cheeks flushed, and her bosom rose and fell with quickened respiration.It was evident that Throckmorton's determined way of wooing had a certain charm for her."There is no reason why you should go at all," he went on, after a moment. "There is an alternative. No, you shall not go yet--you shall hear me out!"A rustle, and the sound of a breaking twig in the honeysuckle arbor behind them startled Cap'n Frank."It is nothing," Throckmorton said, coming nearer, and attempting to take her hand, but she put it behind her like a teasing child."Some one is playing eavesdropper amid the vines," she laughed. "You'd better not say anything you don't wish to be overheard, Mr. Throckmorton.""I don't care who hears what I've got to say," he went on desperately, "I wouldn't hesitate about proclaiming it on the housetop. I love you, Cap'n Frank, I want you for my wife.""But you can't get me, Mr. Throckmorton.""I won't believe that. I shall keep on hoping and trying until my dying day." "Good gracious, we shall both be gray-headed by that time.""Why not consent at once, now--this moment? Oh, my darling, why not consent to be my wife, instead of being shut up in that dismal old convent? You will consent, I'm sure you will."He attempted to put his arms about her, but with a swift movement she evaded him."Hands off is fair play, Mr. Throckmorton," she said. "Please bear that in mind.""Oh, you are cruel, Cap'n Frank," he cried out, his voice thrilling with passion. "But if you could understand how much in earnest I am, how madly I love you, you would surely consent. I could make you so happy. There is nothing that abundant means can purchase, that should not be yours. Every wish of your heart could be gratified.""I don't ever have any wishes, Mr. Throckmorton. I can't think of but one thing at present I'd care a snap to have.""What is that?""I've lost my old Roman locket, and I'd like to have it back again.""Will you consent to marry me if I find it."The madcap's eyes danced, and her red mouth dimpled with mischievous laughter."Maybe you know something about it?" she said. "Maybe you found it. Have you, really?""No, on my honor, I know nothing whatever about it, but I'll search the world over, if you'll only give me your promise. Where and when did you lose the locket?""On the Witch's Rock last night."Throckmorton's face darkened."The chance is a poor one," he said. "The locket may be at the bottom of the river.""I'm afraid it is," she replied sadly.He was silent a moment, and then his eyes flashed with eagerness."Promise me this," he said, holding out his hand, "that you won't accept any other man's love until I find the locket. Will you?"She laughed and shook her head."No, I can't do that--my prince might come in the meantime.""You forget that you are Cinderella, and I am your prince," said Throckmorton reproachfully. "See I carry your token."He put his hand in his pocket and drew forth the dainty, high-heeled slipper, left in the greenhouse by Cap'n Frank on the night of the ball.She blushed, and her mischievous eyes softened."My poor little slipper!" she said. "Have you kept it all this time?""I shall keep it as long as I live," he replied. "I wouldn't exchange it for a queen's diadem. Will you promise, Cinderella?""Promise what?"Not to accept any man's love until I find your old locket?""No, of course I won't. You may never find it. But I'll tell you what I will promise," she added, with sudden recklessness. "The man who restores my old locket shall receive my hand as his reward."Done!" cried Throckmorton, seizing her hand and pressing his lips upon it. "That seals the bargain. If the locket can be found, it shall be yours, and I shall be the happiest man in the universe. You won't take back your promise, Cap'n Frank?""Oh, no." she answered laughingly, but secretly frightened at her own rashness, "I won't do that; but I don't think you'll find the locket, Mr. Throckmorton.""I think I shall, then," he answered promptly; "at all events, I shall try. You played me a cruel trick on the mountain that night," he added reproachfully, "but you'll be honest in this? Give me your promise again.""No; you've heard what I had to say about the mat- ter once, and that's sufficient," she answered curtly. "I bid you good night, Mr. Throckmorton."And turning from him, she picked up her violin and hurried away."Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Throckmorton, when he had watched her out of sight. "That's a slim chance, but better than none."And, with a look of settled purpose on his dark face, he struck across the fields, in the direction of the Hall.He was scarcely gone when Miss Cleo De Lansac emerged from the shadow of the honeysuckle vines."So that's your game, is it?" she said, in a low, "sibilant voice, her fair face convulsed with passion. "You pretend you don't recognize me, yet make love to that madcap schoolgirl under my very eyes! As you will, Mr. Throckmorton--I can afford to bide my time. My revenge is tardy, but it will be all the sweeter."Meanwhile Cap'n Frank hurried on through the moonlight, with her precious violin under her arm, and a strange flutter of uneasiness at her heart.The silly little madcap had done an exceedingly reckless and unwise thing, and she was beginning to realize it.What if Mr. Throckmorton should find the old Roman locket?She paused in her rapid walk, and, looking up at the great, silver-white stars, tried to decide whether she would be glad or sorry."Whatever made me say such a foolish thing?" she was asking herself, when the shrubbery parted, and Tom stood before her."Oh, Tom, how you frightened me!" she cried. "What makes you steal on one like a ghost?""I didn't know you were anywhere about," he replied. "Your uncle thought you had gone across to the cottage to play for the Duffy children--so I was on my way thither.""No, I'm in no humor to see the Duffy children dance," answered the madcap gloomily. "I've been trying to play myself out of my own troubles, and I've only succeeded in getting deeper in.""What's the matter now, Cap'n Frank ?"The voting man spoke in the tone of gentle persuasiveness one uses when addressing a spoiled child. "Tell me all about it, dear."He took the violin from her, and tucking her hand within his arm, led her along beside him."Oh, there's always something the matter here lately." she replied. "If it isn't one thing it's another. I go to the convent to-morrow, to begin with.""Yes; your uncle mentioned that. Is there anything else?""Yes; I've lost my old Roman locket, Tom--the one my dead mother left me.""I must try and find it for you, dear.""Oh, if you could, if you only could, Tom," she cried out with sudden earnestness. "But I lost it the night I was on the Witch's Rock. It may be at the bottom of the river.""I hope not. I'll go out the first thing in the morning, and make a thorough search. If it can be found, you may be sure I'll find it, dear."She looked up at him with wistful eyes."Ah, if he only could find it, dear old Tom," she said to herself, half frightened at the intense desire she felt to be freed from the rash promise so recklessly made a few minutes before."I'll see what can be done," the young man replied "I've always been a lucky sort of fellow about finding things. But, Cap'n Frank," he added, "there's something else I want to talk to you about to-night, if you'll allow me."Something in his manner of speaking made the girl look up with startled eyes."Oh, good gracious, Tom, what's coming now ?" she said piteously. "I hope there isn't anything else wrong?""No, dear, no; there's nothing wrong. I wonder if you couldn't guess what it is I've got to say? Cap'n Frank, haven't you had a suspicion all these years?"She looked up inquiringly, but something in the gaze of his handsome, tender eyes made her silken lashes droop, and brought a flood of crimson to her cheeks.The young man paused in the moonlight, and confronted her."I want to tell you I love you," he said simply; "I've loved you all my life, ever since you were a wee little child, and that love has grown with my growth, and gained strength with my strength, until it has become part of my life. Cap'n Frank, will you consent to be my wife?""Oh, Tom, don't--don't say that!"The cry was full of piteous terror, and the girl put up her hand, as if to ward off a blow.Tom's face grew white, and his breath came in hard, hoarse gasps."Have I frightened you?" he said, his voice unsteady. "Oh, Cap'n Frank, don't you care for me at all?""Care for you, Tom? Why, haven't I loved you all my life long? But not that way--not that way!""But, darling, try to think of it that way," he said pleadingly. "I love you so! I will make you so happy 1 and your uncle has given his consent. Try to think of it that way, won't you, dear?""I can't; oh, Tom, don't ask me!""I must ask you, darling; I must entreat you, because I don't quite believe you know your own mind. I am going away, you know, to Europe, to be gone for years, perhaps. Wouldn't you sooner go with me, darling, and travel from city to city, than to be shut up in that dismal old convent, and left to the mercy of Mrs. Crawford and her daughters?""Why, yes, Tom, of course I would, if I could go right along--if we could he just as we've always been.""That could not be, dear. You would have to go as my wife.""Then I shall have to stay where I am, and, go to the convent. But, oh, Tom--with a sudden burst of grief--"what shall I do without you? What shall I do when you're gone?"The young man was deeply moved. He drew the bright head against his shoulder, and, bending down, kissed the girl's fair forehead with trembling lips."What shall I do when I'm parted from you?" he said. "But I can't give you up--oh, my darling, I can't ! I've cherished the hope too long. Tell me, sweetheart, why you won't consent to be my wife?""Why, Tom, I couldn't. You've always been my companion, my brother, my best friend; I've never had a thought of anything else, and, besides Oh, Tom, I didn't mean to tell you, but, I've done such a foolish, foolish thing.""What is it, dear?""I'm ashamed to tell you, Tom," she went on remorsefully; "I can't understand now what made me do it, but I'm always doing foolish things. Tom, I've promised Mr. Throckmorton to--to give him my hand if he succeeds in finding my old locket."Tom Lynwood drew back as if pierced by a sharp blade; and for a minute or two there was dead silence.Cap'n Frank never forgot that moment as long as she lived; she could have counted the throbs of her own heart.Her companion spoke at last, his lips colorless, his voice hoarse."Tell me--tell me the truth!" he said. "Do you love Dick Throckmorton?""No, Tom, no, I don't love him.""What made you make that promise, then?""I--I don't know. Because I'm such a foolish girl. I'd give the world to recall it now.""Do you mean that? Let me put you to a test. I am going across the river to-morrow morning to hunt for your locket. What if I find it? Will you allow, me the benefit of your terms? Will you give me your hand as my reward?""I couldn't, Tom," she answered piteously."Then you care more for Throckmorton than you do for me?""No, no, you don't understand, you can't understand Oh, Tom, Tom, let me alone. I'm so miserable!"The piteous, childish cry brought tears to the young man's eyes."All right," he said. "I won't worry you any more. You must let me take you to the house now, dear. It is growing late."He drew her hand within his arm, and they went across the lawn, and under the whispering beeches to the front gate."I'll leave you now," he said, his voice tender and calm. "Good night, Cap'n Frank!""Oh, Tom, forgive me!" she cried, holding out her bands. "I couldn't say anything else--indeed I couldn't, Tom.""I know, dear, I understand," he said tenderly, taking the trembling little hands and kissing them; "that is all right; but tell me this--tell me the truth--do you want me to find your locket if I can?""Yes, Tom. Yes, I want you to find it!""Very well, I'll try. Good night."He turned away; and, leaning over the gate, with her old violin in her arms, the madcap watched him out of sight.CHAPTER XII. A Lucky Lover.The sun was not yet up when Tom Lynwold, clad in a trim boating suit, and armed with a stout pair of oars, pushed out of Sweetbrier Cove, a mile or two below the Beechcroft landing, and struck out with great energy in the direction of the Witch's Rock.A sleepless night had taken something of the wonted brightness and genial good humor from his handsome face, and there were silent suggestions in the rigid lines about his mouth, and, indeed, in his whole air and manner, of the fierce struggle of passion and despair through which he had passed.Nevertheless, he had not been wholly vanquished; his hands were strong and steady as he grasped the oars, and his eye keen as an eagle's as he measured the shining distance across the river.To find the old Roman locket--if that were possible --restore it to Cap'n Frank, and thereby not only lift a great weight of sorrow from her heart, but also absolve her from the rash promise she had so recklessly made, was the object he had in view, and he was by no means doubtful in regard to its accomplishment.On the contrary, his hope almost amounted to certainty, and he had made an early start, in order that he might accomplish his task and get back to Beechcroft before his little madcap sweetheart was spirited away to the convent.The morning was exceptionally fine. The air was crisp and invigorating, the cloudless sky all aflame with golden prophecies of the coming day. The river was a vast sheet of dimpling silver, and the shores on either hand green with summer foliage.Tom had received a cruel blow, but he was not crushed. After all Cap'n Frank might not know her own heart; she was so young--such a wild, shy little thing--and he had spoken to her without warning or preparation. If he could only find the old locket, and free her from her rash promise to that fellow, Throckmorton, all might yet be well. Tom was content to wait and hope and suffer, if need be, for the woman he loved.So he plied the oars with lusty strokes, making the silver spray fly right and left, and the little boat move onward like a bird on the wing, and every moment his heart seemed to grow lighter.A conviction that he should find the old Roman locket was growing upon him with the force of a prophecy. At all events, if Throckmorton intended to search for the old trinket, Tom had got the start of him, and, in most competitions, a fair start is everything.The light was deepening on the placid water, and the green hills on either land were crowned with golden mist, and just beyond, towering up like a hideous silhouette against the opal dawn, was the Witch's Rock.Tom's heart beat faster, and all his nerves thrilled, as he bent to the oars. The spot seemed to possess a weird sort of fascination ; the great black bowlder seemed to draw him on with a curious power he could not resist. Perhaps he recalled the legend which gave the rock its name--an uncanny story of a strange woman, endowed with supernatural power, who, in revenge and retaliation for the fate of a handsome young lover, lost at sea half a score of years before, had conjured up the great rock and hollowed out the dark little cave, and dwelt therein, finding a diabolical comfort in throwing out false lights on stormy winter nights, and luring the craft of unsuspecting fishermen to destruction.Whether influenced by this weird legend or not, Tom felt a certain exultation of spirit, as his boat went bounding across the water, which amounted almost to a sort of delirious joy.At last he reached his destination, and found himself in the grim shadow of the rugged bowlder.It was no difficult job to make the boat secure, for the tide was low; then, by the help of the boat hook, he soon gained the rock.Planting himself firmly on the lower ledge, our hero waited a moment or two, in order to get his breath, and take in the situation.While doing so, he perceived that another boat was made fast to the rock, only a short distance from his own.It required no second thought to explain what this meant. Tom realized in an instant that Throckmorton was there before him.It was a terrible moment, but Tom's courage did not fail him.Drawing a long breath, and pulling himself well together, he went leaping upward from ledge to ledge.When he reached that part of the rock where the cavity known as the Witch's Cave was situated, Throckmorton suddenly emerged from the shadows, and confronted him."So you're here, are you?" he exclaimed. "I am here, sir," answered Tom sturdily.And then for a moment the two men looked each other in the eyes."May I inquire," began Throckmorton at last, with a sort of diabolical courtesy of manner, "what brings you here, sir?""Certainly, sir," responded Tom, With obliging promptness; "you can make as many inquiries as you please; but whether I shall feel called upon to answer them or not is quite another thing. Will you do me the kindness, 'Mr. Throckmorton, to step aside? I would like to enter that cave."Throckmorton's eyes were glowing like living coals, but he moved aside mechanically. Tom, bending his tall head, pushed his way into the cave."Throckmorton was here before me," he was saying to himself, as he groped about, his eyes as yet unaccustomed to the darkness. "But he hasn't found the locket, I'm sure of it. I think I shall find it myself."He was somewhat familiar with his bearings by this time, and, as a next step, he produced a small spirit lamp, which he proceeded to light.As the flame shot up, shedding a yellow glare on the rough walls of the cave, Throckmorton appeared at the entrance, and stood there scowling and threatening; but in the intensity of his preoccupation, Tom took no more heed of his presence than he did of the little water snakes that wriggled and darted about his feet.Holding the little lamp aloft, he moved hither and thither, uncertain and hesitant at first, but presently impelled, as he afterward declared, by some subtle influence wholly remote from his own will or wisdom, to extend his search to a certain corner of the cave, where there was a noticeable fissure or crack in the rock, the result, no doubt, of some long-past upheaval of nature.Tom obeyed this controlling influence blindly and passively, as a child submits to the guidance of a stronger and wiser will than its own; and, in less time than it takes to tell it, he found himself on his hands and knees, peering down into the fissure. And presently the flash and gleam of gold rewarded his efforts. The old Roman locket was found.Cap'n Frank would be free from her reckless promise if she really desired it.This was Tom's first thought. His next was, how to get hold of the coveted treasure.His heart stood still with fear as he looked down at the queer old bauble, as it hung suspended from the rock.By the merest chance the chain had caught on a sharp projection, and a breath of wind, or an unguarded movement, would be likely to dislodge it, and down, down it would go, to be swept away by the swift-flowing tide beneath, and lost forever.Tom held his breath as he contemplated the situation. But at the same time he was bent upon securing the locket.Throckmorton still watched him from the entrance, with a malignant intensity in his black eyes that was frightful to see, but Tom took no heed. Taking his knife from his pocket, he opened the longest and slenderest blade; then, getting down on his knees, he went calmly and cautiously to work.It was a delicate task, requiring a steady eye and skillful hand. Tom possessed both, so he accomplished it. Flushed and exultant, with a shout of triumph bursting involuntarily from his lips, he leaped to his feet, with his treasure in his hand.Throckmorton had watched every movement of his rival with gathering anger. And now, when the old locket flashed in his very eyes, a sound not unlike the snarl of an enraged animal burst from his lips, and, with a single bound, he reached Tom's side, and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder."So you've got it, have you?" he said, speaking through his shut teeth."Yes," responded Tom, shaking himself free of the fellow's grasp, "I've got it. And, what's more, sir, I intend to keep it.""Don't be too sure about that," replied Throckmorton, his voice quivering with repressed rage; "perhaps you don't understand," he added, "that my object in coming here this morning was to get hold of that very old locket?""I surmised as much, sir," answered Tom; "but you weren't in luck, you see! You didn't get hold of it."He slipped the old trinket in his breast pocket as he spoke, and turned resolutely toward the door, but with a revolver in his right hand, Throckmorton stood barring the way.CHAPTER XIII. HIS ENEMY TURNS AND RENDS HIM."You can't pass out this way," he said promptly."Why not?" demanded Tom. "What's to hinder me?"Throckmorton laughed with insolent bravado."You see what's to hinder you," he said; "don't come one step nearer; you're a dead man if you do. I want that locket you've got in your pocket. I came down here to find it this morning, and I don't intend to go away without it.""You'll be likely to remain here some time then," said Tom quietly.Throckmorton stood like a rock, the glittering weapon grasped in his right hand."Will you give me the locket?" he said, after a moment, "or shall I be compelled to take it by force?""I'll give you something that will suit you better," answered Tom, and, as he spoke, he shot forth his strong right arm, dealing Throckmorton a stunning blow, which sent him reeling backward with such force that he lost his balance and went crashing over the rocks, and into the river.Tom stood breathless for a moment, quite surprised at his own wonderful prowess, and just the least bit irresolute as to what he should do next.To make his escape before there was any further trouble seemed to be the most sensible thing, so Tom turned at once to his boat, jumped in, and was in the act of pushing off, when a hoarse, strangling cry arrested his attention.Turning quickly, he discovered to his great surprise that, instead of making for his boat, which was close at hand, Throckmorton was in the deep water at the base of the rock, struggling desperately, as if in great peril; and, while Tom looked on, the hoarse cry rang out again:"Help, help! I'm sinking."It was the work of a moment for the young man to put his boat about, and run rapidly round to the other side of the rock."Can it be possible that the fellow's in danger?" he thought.As if in response to this question, Throckmorton, who had been floundering about in a helpless fashion, threw up his hands, and, with a frantic cry, disappeared from sight.Tom was thoroughly roused to the nature of the situation by this time."Great heavens, he's gone down--he's drowning!" he exclaimed. "I must save him."Swift as an arrow the little boat shot out; then, resting on his oars, Tom waited in breathless suspense for Throckmorton to reappear.It might be a risky job to get him into the boat; and if he were to go down and rise no more, Tom's chances for happiness would doubtless be all the better and brighter; but no such thoughts as these filled the young man's mind.He was conscious of but one desire, one heroic purpose--to save a fellow creature from perishing. The fact that the drowning man was his mortal enemy did not amount to a feather's weight one way or the other.Resting on his oars, he waited in breathless anxiety, and presently Throckmorton reappeared."Courage!" shouted Tom. "I'm here. I intend to save you!"With his next breath, he grasped the drowning man by the arm, and, after some delay and difficulty, succeeded in getting him safely into the boat.It was a difficult job, and Tom was white with exhaustion and dripping with perspiration; but his handsome eyes glowed with gratitude."Thank Heaven!" he said. "I've saved his life, but it was a narrow escape!"Throckmorton lay in the bottom of the little boat, pale and breathless, his eyes closed, and his heart beating freely."I shall have to take him over in my boat," thought Tom. "He won't be able to manage his own for some time to come." And in view of his success, the gen- erous-hearted fellow felt a kindly pity for his prostrate rival and enemy, as he lay helpless at his feet."You feel pretty well used up, I dare say," he said, making a pillow of his boat cloak, and putting it under Throckmorton's head, "but you'll soon rally. I'm going to take you across in my boat."If Throckmorton heard, he gave no sign."Poor fellow, he seems pretty well exhausted," thought Tom. "He came nearer drowning than I thought. By Jove! But I'm glad I was in time to save him. I think I'll give him a little brandy to start up the circulation."There was a small flask under the seat, always kept there in case of an emergency, and Tom brought it forth, and, pouring out a good, stiff drink, held it to Throckmorton's lips."Let me raise your head," he said. "that's the ticket; now drink this right down. It is brandy, and will do you good."Throckmorton swallowed it in silence."That's the ticket," said Torn cheerfully. "You'll soon come round; and now," he said to himself, "the sooner I get under way the better. I must reach Beechcroft before Cap'n Frank leaves. Won't the little madcap be rejoiced to recover her old locket? And thank Heaven," he added devoutly, "that reckless promise is null and void now. I was sure of finding the old trinket when I started out. I've always been a lucky fellow."In another minute he was bending the oars with all the strength of his grand young manhood--his face bright with anticipation, his heart beating hopefully in his breast.Tom's powerful young arms seemed to be nerved with steel. And the little boat, impelled by his vigorous strokes, shot across the placid water with the speed of a swallow.Once or twice the young man turned his head to look at his prostrate enemy.There he lay, one arm thrown up across his face, as motionless as if he were dead."Poor fellow," thought Tom, with a feeling of pity, "his defeat goes hard with him, I dare say, but it can't be helped."On sped the little boat, and under the talismanic old locket, safely hidden in his breast, Tom's heart beat with throbs of joyful hope.The keen edge of the disappointment of the past night was wearing off, and in the light of this newborn day everything seemed brighter.All his pulses thrilled, and in the overflowing gladness of his heart a snatch of melody, a pretty love song that he had sung again and again while Cap'n Frank played a delicious accompaniment on her old Cremona, fell from his lips.The steady beat of the oars kept up a rhythmic measure, the soft winds sang in the trees on the nearing shore, and the cloudless glory of the rising sun transmuted the river into a golden mirror.Tom's happy heart kept time, and the music on his lips grew louder.In his preoccupation he failed to hear the stealthy movement behind him, failed to see Throckmorton arise to his feet, slowly and noiselessly as a phantom, the boat hook grasped in his hand, a look of fiendish purpose on his ghastly face, his black eyes glowing with murderous fire.Tom failed to see or hear, and there was no one to warn him.So he sang softly to himself, and the waters flashed beneath the oars, the breezes whispered, and the boat sped on like a living thing, and presently, without a word or warning, the blow fell.A murderous, well-aimed blow, crashing the unsuspecting man down into swift unconsciousness. He fell across the seat as if he had been shot, the oars slipping from his hands, a great gush of blood pouring down front his left temple.Throckmorton stood motionless a moment, contemplating his work, with a look on his dark face that had never been there before--the sign manual of murder.Only for a moment; then a fierce, exultant cry broke from his lips, and he flew at his unconscious victim, at the bird of prey pounces upon the dead carcass.It was the work of a moment to dive into the poor fellow's breast pocket, and drag out the quaint old locket, and to hold it up, glittering and flashing, in the early sunlight."Who's got it now?" shouted the murderer. "Who's got the old locket now? I swore I'd have it, and here it is; and the owner shall be mine, as well, before I'm many months older. Ah! my fine fellow," turning to Tom, who lay bleeding and unconscious, "you were reckoning without your host when you thought to get the best of Dick Throckmorton. No man has ever done that yet."He was silent a moment; then a curious expression came into his dark eyes, as he looked down at poor Tom's unconscious face, and it was evident that a struggle was going on in the man's half-savage nature. He was debating whether or not he should give his victim a last chance for his life. His indecision was but short-lived, however."The shortest way out of the trouble seems the safest in this case," he said. "I can't save the fellow's life at the risk of my own interests. A cold-water bath will be about the best thing for him," and, chuckling with devilish enjoyment all the while, he took Tom by the shoulders, and, giving his body a sudden impetus, it went over the side of the boat into the sunlit river.A plash, a shower of silver spray, a widening circle of foamy ripples, then the waters closed over the ghastly tragedy, and, in all the rejoicing morning, there was neither sign nor sound to hint at what had happened.Dick Throckmorton sat down in the boat and picked tip the oars. His face had a changed expression. His hands shook nervously, and once or twice he glanced over his shoulder, feeling, no doubt, even in that first moment of his guilt, the presence of that ghastly shadow which would nevermore cease to follow close upon his steps."Now the trouble's all settled," he said at last, with a forced laugh. "I'll go back to the rock yonder and get my own boat, and turn this one adrift, and that will be the end of it."So he turned the boat about, and rowed back to the Witch's Rock.CHAPTER XIV.A SAD PARTING.The tall old clock at the head of the broad stairway in the old home at Beechcroft struck ten, with slow, resonant strokes, and half a dozen lesser clocks, scattered about the house, tinkled out as many silvery responses.Mrs. Crawford, arrayed in a becoming traveling dress, put forth her slim hand and touched a silver bell."Kitty," she said to the waiting maid who appeared, "bring my bonnet and mantle; then go to Miss Crawford's room, and tell her we shall be ready to start in ten minutes."The maid made haste to obey, but in the upper hall Louise waylaid her."Never mind, Kitty," she said, "I'll tell Miss Frank. I'm going to her room to say good-by."So the maid retreated, and Louise, with a peculiar expression in her black eyes, rapped at Cap'n Frank's door.The poor girl was sitting on the floor, with her old violin in her lap, and an exceedingly piteous expression on her tear-stained face.Louise did not wait to be bidden; she opened the door and walked in."Why, what on earth are you doing?" she asked. "Bidding my fiddle good-by," answered the madcap curtly.There was a glimmer of a smile in Louise's black eyes, but she said, very demurely:"You're not going to take it with you, then?""No; they won't allow fiddles at convents; they're too pious, I suppose.""I'm afraid yon won't take any too kindly to convent life, Cap'n Frank."The madcap merely shrugged her shoulders, as she returned her precious Cremona to its chamois-skin case."What will you do with the violin?" Louise asked."That's what bothers me," replied Cap'n Frank. "I shall have to put it in that big chest yonder, and lock it up; if I don't, Trix might get at it.""I couldn't," squeaked an invisible voice from the region of the closet, "'kase I's gwine long wid yuh, Cap'n Frank."The madcap sighed heavily."I wish you could, Trix," she said. "But they won't let you. They're determined I shall be all alone in my glory. I intended to give my violin to Tom to take care of"--she went on, touching the instrument lovingly--"but I forgot to mention it last night, and he hasn't come this morning. I was sure," she added, with a childish tremor in her voice, "he'd come to say good-by, but maybe he may get here in time yet."A sudden light flashed over Louise's face, and glowed in her black eyes.Now, she was not a wicked girl, this younger Miss De Lansac, and she had no special grudge against Cap'n Frank. But she had a purpose in view, and she had made up her mind to carry it out.She often boasted of a certain clairvoyant power, by which she was able to see the end of a thing at the beginning; and by the aid of this gift of insight, perhaps, she had come to a pretty correct conclusion in regard to certain matters.She understood--though as yet the whys and wherefores were in the dark--that some sort of secret understanding existed between her sister Cleo and Dick Throckmorton.She also had divined that Throckmorton was in love with Cap'n Frank. In regard to the relations between the latter and Tom Lynwold, the young lady had not yet fully made up her mind; and it was in order to beat about the bush that she had intruded herself into Cap'n Frank's room that last morning.In a word, Louise had intentions of her own in regard to handsome Tom Lynwold. And while she would not willingly or willfully have harmed her stepsister, she was quite determined to push forward her own interests.She smiled a little at the girl's frank manner of speaking, and then said carelessly:"I don't think Tom will be here this morning--in fact, I'm sure he won't."The madcap sprang to her feet, with her violin in her hand."What makes you think so?" she demanded.Louise blushed a little, and fingered her watch charms with well-assumed bashfulness."I've had a letter from him." she said, at last."You've had a letter from Tom?"The madcap's eyes were all alight by this time. It seemed absurd, almost impossible, that Tom should write to any other girl but herself.Besides, he had promised to go in search of her old locket the first thing that morning, and here it was ten o'clock, and he had not put in an appearance; and, in view of all this, the idea of his writing to Louise De Lansac seemed preposterous."You've had a letter from Tom?" she repeated."Yes," said Louise at last, coming nearer, and dropping her voice to a confidential whisper. "I got a letter and--his photograph.""Tom's photograph?""Yes, he's going abroad, you see, and he says he'd like me to think of him sometimes, the foolish fellow, so he sent me this. Don't you want to see it?"She drew a pretty medallion case from her bosom and held it toward Cap'n Frank. She came forward and looked at it.Yes, it was Tom, handsomer, nobler than he had ever looked before.Tom's photograph, in a gold medallion case, and sent to Louise De Lansac!What did it mean? The madcap pressed her hand against her side--she could not understand what it was that sent that sudden pain through her heart."It was kind of Tom to send it to me, wasn't it?" Louise went on, noticing, with covert satisfaction, that her wicked ruse had accomplished the desired effect. "He wrote me such a nice letter, too. He's coming next week to bid me good-by. I think it is ever so kind in him. He wanted to come this morning to see you off," she added, "but an engagement or something of the sort prevented--he said I must give you his love, and say good-by. Is there any message you would like to leave for him?""No," said the madcap as she turned away, her eyes in a blaze, her breath coming fast."No," she added, under her breath, that sharp pain going through and through her heart again, "I'll never speak to him again while I live."Having accomplished her purpose, Louise left the room with a few commonplace words. In her own room, she laughed softly."You're a clever girl, Louise," she said, "as clever as your mother and elder sister, only they're too wise in their own conceit to think so. You managed that cleverly, very cleverly indeed. If you can only get on as well with Tom himself, when he appears again, you'll be on the road to success."Meanwhile, down below, on the long portico, where the rose vines clambered and the birds twittered, Cleo De Lansac had been sitting for a full hour, watching the road, with a smoldering fire in her black eyes.She was sure that Dick Throckmorton would come to say good-by to the little madcap who had stolen his heart, and she was determined to be on hand, that she might note all that passed between them.So she watched and waited, sitting under the rose vines in her stately loveliness, but the master of Throckmorton Hall did not appear.Down on the terrace below, his gray locks blown about his anxious face, the poor old major moved up and down with his slow, martial tread. The silver-winged pigeons fluttered about his feet; the dogs raced up and down the lawn; and out beyond, with her pink nose protruding through the gate, and her shrill whinny piercing the air, was Hotspur, the gray thoroughbred.Cap'n Frank's pets, every one of them, and she was going away!"What shall we do without her?" the old man asked himself for the twentieth time; "what shall we do when our darling little madcap's gone? "They persuaded me against my will--I wish now I'd never given my consent--the poor little thing will be sure to break her heart. Ah, dear me, dear me! why couldn't she have agreed to Tom's plan? But she's such a willful little thing!--and now Tom's took offense, I dare say, and there's no telling what will be the end of it all."Presently the madcap came clown, all equipped for her journey, with heartbroken little Trix at her heels. She rushed up to the old soldier and threw her arms about his neck."There, there, Uncle Jack, don't look like that!" she cried; "I don't intend to shed a tear for my own part. I'm glad I'm going, now; no make-believe about it, I am honest. Don't I look it?"The old man held her off at arm's length, and gazed at her in surprise.Her eyes were like diamonds, her cheeks outvied the roses on the terrace."What's the matter with you, madcap?" said her uncle. "I never saw you look so pretty in all my life!""I'm glad of that; I want you to remember me at my best, Uncle Jack. Kiss me now--once, twice, three times, and another for good count. Oh, don't cry; I'm coming back if the nuns don't eat me. There, there, let me get through with my leave-taking. Yonder's Hotspur, bless her pretty heart, and the darling doggies, and the pigeons, and little black Trix. Good-by, everything and everybody! Be good to my pets, Uncle Jack. Be sure now and comfort poor Trix when I'm gone!""I will; yes, Cap'n Frank, I will, and what must I tell Tom?""Nothing--not a single word! Ah"--choking clown a sob--"here comes Mr. Throckmorton. I'm glad of that. I was afraid he wouldn't get here in time to say good-by!"Throckmorton came up with his hat in his hand, and made his greetings with high-bred grace, as usual; but there was a change in him that every one felt, but could not understand.He shook hands with the major, lifted his hat to Miss De Lansac, still sitting amid the rose vines, and then approached Cap'n Frank."I'm sorry to be late," he began, but she cut him short with a gay laugh."Better to be late than never," she said; then, dropping her voice to a whisper: "Have you found my old locket, Mr. Throckmorton?"He drew nearer, and took her hand, his eyes all aflame with mad triumph."I never break my promises," he replied, "especially to one as fair as yourself. Yes, I have found it--here it is."The girl staggered back, a suppressed cry on her lips.Throckmorton put the package in her hand."There is your locket, Cap'n Frank," he said; "I told you I would find it, and I did. I may trust you to make your promise good, of course?"She hesitated a minute, the color coming and going in her cheeks; then, all at once, some sudden thought seethed to bring her to an instantaneous decision."Yes," she said, her voice firm and resolute, A Cs, you may trust me.""Very well," he replied, "one word more, and I'm done. If you find your life at that old convent unbearable, promise to let the hear from you, to let me help you. I have the right now."He held out his hand. There was no one to warn her that it was a murderer's hand, so the girl gave him hers, and he raised it to his lips.Only Miss De Lansac. sitting amid the roses, had marked this interview, and her face was a study.The major returned at this moment to say that the carriage was waiting, and little black Trix threw herself on the ground, and wept aloud in her anguish. But Cap'n Frank did not shed a tear.When she was about to enter the carriage, she turned back suddenly."Wait just one moment, I've something to say to Louise. I've changed my mind," she went on, when the young lady in question drew near. "I will leave message for Tom. Tell him, please, that he need not trouble any more about my old locket. Mr. Throckmorton has found it for me, and it is all right. He'll understand."The next moment she was in the carriage, and it was rolling down the drive.XV. A BLACK-LETTER DAY.Sister Dorothea tapped her bell, and the school arose en masse, and, facing about, bowed before the image of the Virgin, and then filed out into the broad corridor adjoining, with soldierlike order and precision.Cap'n Frank huddled her books and slate into the desk, and was about to follow, when the sister's quiet but commanding voice arrested her."Remain in your seat, if you please, Miss Crawford. I wish to speak with you presently."For three endless weeks our little madcap had been striving with all her might to keep her parting promise to her uncle."Now, Cap'n Frank," he had said to her that last morning at Beechcroft, "I want you to listen to me. Since you've got to go to the convent, I want you to be a good child, and keep out of trouble--for my sake. Will you promise?"Cap'n Frank was slow about making promises, being conscious, no doubt, of her inability to keep them. She reflected a moment or two before she replied:"Seems to me I was born to get into trouble, Uncle Jack. Somehow I can't help it. But I'll try--yes, for your sake I'll do my best."And she had kept her word.For three long weeks the poor child had tried hard to do her best; but it seemed, as she said, she had been born with a knack of getting into difficulties. "When she sought to do good, evil was continually before her," and consequently, as a general thing, she was in disgrace.Botany Bay, as the schoolgirls very aptly called the immediate space to the right of the teacher's desk, where refractory and delinquent pupils were set apart as culprits, was Cap'n Frank's abiding place. Do what she would, it seemed impossible for the poor girl to keep clear of Botany Bay.Perched on a high seat, or standing bolt upright in full view of the whole school, she spent most of her time, toiling over puzzling problems, or long lines of figures, until her head grew dizzy, and her heart ached with impotent pain.What was the good of it all? she asked herself a dozen times a day. What sense or reason was there in wearing one's brains out in trying to do the very thing one most despised; and, at the same time, leaving undone the lifelong desire of one's heart.The madcap could not understand it all, so the days, as they followed each other, grew darker and more wearisome.The poor girl, cradled as she had been amid the wild freedom of the sea, found the solemn seclusion and strict rules of convent life almost unendurable; and the little cell-like room, in which most of her leisure hours were passed, seemed to be a veritable prison.Ah, how she longed in these miserable days for a run across the meadows, with little black Trix, and the dogs at her heels--a mad gallop on Hotspur's back-- or, better than all, one glad half hour with her precious Cremona!Her fingers fairly ached at times for the touch of the slim, supple bow, and she longed for just one twang of the resonant strings, with a passion that almost amounted to frenzy.But her longing was vain! The old Cremona was locked up in the big oak chest at Beechcroft, while she was a prisoner in the convent.How she hated the sound of the bells ringing for vespers, and Angelus--and all the rest--and the sight of the black-robed nuns filing along the dim corridor to and from the chapel, like an army of apparitions!How she hated everything, poor child, herself included, in her terrible anguish! And there was no one to help her."Tom would help me--Tom would know what to do," she said to herself again and again, that keen pain piercing her girl's heart like a thorn. "But he has failed me, like everything else."Yes, Tom had failed her--and for a girl like Louise De Lansac!Ah, well, let him go! She had nothing to say--not a single word.Let him go. Her eyes flashed like summer lightning, and her cheeks glowed; but the pain still pierced her heart.Poor, foolish, little madcap--those were miserable days!"Remain in your seat, if you please, Miss Crawford," said Sister Dorothea, as the school went filing out. "I wish to speak with you presently."Cap'n Frank knew what that meant, and her passionate heart rebelled.She hesitated a moment, and then stepped out from behind her desk."I don't intend to remain in that seat any longer, Sister Dorothea," she said, speaking very quietly, but with a dangerous glitter in her eyes; "I'm going out with the rest. I've had enough of Botany Bay."The teacher turned round amazed."Miss Crawford, remain in your seat, please," she repeated, in the same even, exasperating tone; "I wish to speak with you presently."Cap'n Frank turned and faced her."There's nothing to speak to me about," she said, her voice vibrating with repressed excitement. "I've been lectured and badgered too much, as it is. If you'd let me alone, I should do better. I haven't worked out those problems, and I don't intend to spend another moment over them. It's a sinful waste of time. I'm stupid about figures, anyhow, and I can't help it.""Miss Crawford, will you go back to your seat, or shall I ring for the lady abbess?"Cap'n Frank's temper was fairly up by this time."You can do as you like about that," she said; "but if you ring for the pope himself, I shan't go back to Botany Bay this evening. That's settled. I'm going out with the rest."Sister Dorothea's eyes softened, and a smile played about her lips.It was evident that her kind heart pitied the pretty, willful child."Come back, my child," she said, holding out her hand; "my duty will compel me to report you if you disobey my orders, and I don't like to see you punished. Come back to your seat."But the madcap shook her curly head."No, I'd sooner stand the lockup and bread and water than go back to Botany Bay. I've had enough of it. My head aches, and I'm going out."And out she went, a ripple of defiant laughter on her red lips, a flashing light in her blue eyes.Her broad hat hung on the rack in the corridor; she caught it by its blue ribbons as she fluttered out, and in another instant she was flying down the broad walk with the speed of a lapwing.Ah, how grand it was to be free once more--with the blue sky overhead and the green grass beneath her feet!She would never go back--never--never--no matter what happened.This sudden resolve seemed to possess her, soul and body, all in a moment, causing her nerves to thrill and her heart to leap. Her breath came in excited gasps, her cheeks glowed, and her blue eyes shone like stars.No, she would never go back again--she would run away and seek her fortune in the great, strange world!On she went; down the broad drive, under the interlacing boughs of the sycamore trees, across the oldfashioned borders, crushing the fragrant clove pinks and wild clover beneath her flying feet, and, at last, panting, breathless, and half beside herself with delirious joy, she dashed into a sort of jungle, at the far end of the spacious inclosure, and dropped down, speechless and silent, in the shadow of the convent wall.There was no chance of escape; the wall was high, and day and night the gates were kept locked.The madcap clutched her hands together, and shut her teeth until her ears rang and tingled.Having tasted the sweets of freedom, she would never go back to Botany Bay, and the stupid problems, and the dark, cell-like room--never in the world! She would rather lie there and die first.The afternoon was waning rapidly; already the sun hung like a brazen ball above the western hills, and she could hear the laughing chatter of her schoolmates returning from their walk. Presently the chapel bell would ring, but her place would be vacant. She would not go back.Crouching down in the rank grass that grew along the wall, she propped her elbows on her knees, and, supporting her dimpled chin with her locked hands, listened intently.For ten minutes, perhaps, there was silence, broken only by the twitter of a bird, or the stealthy rustle of insect life amid the rank grasses. Then the Angelus rang. Clang, clang, clang! filling the summer silence with solemn echoes.Cap'n Frank laughed, but, at the same time, her bright cheek paled a trifle, and her heart beat fast.What would the lady abbess say when she found that her place was vacant? Would they come to seek her?Instinctively she drew back into the shadows. She would not go back--she would die first!Ah, if she could only escape, if she could only get over the wall!But it was three times higher than her head, and the gates were always locked.What should she do?Ah, if Tom knew, he would surely come to her rescue? He had always been her refuge in time of trouble.For a moment she had forgotten, but with her next breath she remembered that she had no longer any claim upon Tom.He had transferred his love and loyalty to another; he had not even come to bid her good-by. Henceforth she must fight her own battles.The bell had ceased ringing by this time, and now and then the breeze brought to her ears the faint, sweet music of the pealing organ, and she knew that the pious nuns were at their devotions.The sun had already sunk behind the hills, and along the western horizon an ominous bank of black clouds was forming, from which, at intervals, came the hoarse rumble of thunder.A storm was brewing, and night was at hand, but the madcap did not change her mind."I won't go back," she said to herself. "I'll never go back, no matter what happens!"The sweet echoes of the pealing organ died away, the birds went twittering home to their roosts in the hedges, and the wind began to moan amid the trees with a wailing, desolate sound, while the black cloud rack in the west rolled up with frightful rapidity.Cap 'n Frank watched it with dilating eyes and blanching cheeks.Since that terrible night on the Witch's Rock, even to think of being alone in a storm made her miserably nervous.A feeling of heartbroken homesickness came over the poor child as she crouched there under the shadow of the wall; her head dropped down, and hiding her face in her clasped hands, she cried and sobbed like a baby.Still she did not change her mind. She was determined not to go back.She had tried to keep her promise to Uncle Jack, and had failed; and now the only thing that remained for her was to run away, and seek her fortune in the great world.She would manage to get over the wall, somehow, when it got to be quite dark. So she sat and waited, sobbing fit to break her heart.CHAPTER XVI. THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE.The major was confined to his armchair, in the bay window, with a sharp attack of his old enemy, the gout, for one thing--and, for another, little black Trix had disappeared.She had been sulky and out of sorts ever since her young lady's departure, refusing her food, and neglecting her household tasks, and Mrs. Throckmorton very strongly insinuated that she should be severely dealt with.But the major would not listen to anything of the sort."Let Trix alone," he said; "she belongs to Cap'n Frank, and nobody shall meddle with her."But one day matters reached a crisis.Cleo De Lansac ordered the little negress to take a whip and drive a certain shaggy Scotch collie dog that had a fancy for sleeping on a rug in the upper hall, out of the house, whereupon Miss Trix, with a wicked flash of her ivories, and a sidelong movement of the whites of her eyes, flatly refused."De cullie dorg 'longs ter Cap'n Frank, an' I ain't gwine ter druv him outer de house fur nobody."Miss Cleo had a temper, and it flashed up like a rocket."I'll see whether you obey me or not," she said; and, seizing the whip, she belabored poor Trix over the head and shoulders in quite an unmerciful manner."Now, drive that dog out of the house," she commanded, when her fair hand had given out, and the little negress was howling and dancing with pain; "do you hear?"Trix was game to the last."I ain't deef," she sobbed, gazing through her tears at the rug, from which the collie, disgusted with the uproar, had retired; "an' de dorg's gone hisself ; but of he was lyin' dar, I wouldn't druv him out--no, I wouldn't;" and then, without waiting to hear Miss Cleo's reply, the little imp vent down the stairs, and out at the front door with the speed of a rat, and that was the last of her."Let her go," said "Mrs. Crawford, when it became noised through the household that Trix had run away, "it is a good riddance."But the major, sitting in his armchair, with his lame foot on a cushion, grumbled and fretted a good deal."Trix was a spry little thing, and Cap'n Frank liked her," he said; "and she must be found."So the men on the place were sent out, and posters asking information concerning the fugitive, and offering a reward for her apprehension, were put up on the fences; but in vain. Trix was not to be found.The major grieved and scolded by turns; Cap'n Frank sadly, poor old gentleman.Hitherto, when he was confined to his chair, and obliged to endure the provoking twinges, his little madcap had been his one solace, enlivening the tedious hours with merry music on her old violin, and with all sorts of wild pranks and surprises.Tears rolled down the old soldier's cheeks as he sat gazing out into the summer sunshine. He had never favored the plan of shutting the poor child up in convent, and he felt sure that harm would come of it in the end.If he could have his way about it she should be back at Beechcroft before the week was out.But his wife took no heed of the old man's querulous complainings.The girl was doing well at the convent, she assured him, and he ought to be grateful to know that she was safe, and out of mischief.And then, in furtherance of her plan to marry her elder daughter to Dick Throckmorton, leaving her husband to beguile the tedious hours as best he might, Mrs. Crawford drove over to Throckmorton Hall, accompanied by Cleo, to make an afternoon call.But, greatly to their disappointment, the master of the mansion was not at home, and they found the family a good deal distressed in consequence."I dare say it is all nonsense being worked up in this way," said Mrs. Throckmorton, when her guests were seated; "but, you see, my dear Mrs. Crawford, Dick is such a considerate, methodical fellow, so different from most young men, that I can't account for his absence. He went out for a walk, as we supposed, on Wednesday morning, without saying good-by or anything, and we haven't heard a word from him since. Do you wonder that I feel uneasy?""I should wonder if you didn't," responded Mrs. Crawford warmly. "Why, it is very distressing--very distressing, indeed! What steps do you purpose taking, my dear Mrs. Throckmorton?""I haven't quite determined as yet; but I telegraphed for my attorney this morning, and I shall know better what to do when I have consulted with him. Gwendoline declares it is all nonsense," she added, drying her eyes with a lace handkerchief, "and no doubt it is; but I can't help it, Mrs. Crawford. It seems so out of the order of things for Dick to do so--he never goes to bed without kissing us good night--and to take himself off in this way, and Rose here, too! Poor little Rose, she is quite upset, and has gone to bed with a sick headache. You'll have to excuse her, Miss De Lansac.""Oh, certainly," replied Miss Cleo, sweetly obliging, but with a glitter that foreboded mischief in her eyes."You made a mistake about Rose, mamma love," said Gwendoline from her seat in the bay window. "She is just coming in from a ride with Captain St. Denys now."Mrs. Throckmorton flushed, and bit her lips."Well, it is difficult to keep the run of you young people," she said, with a forced laugh. "Rose went up to her room with a headache half an hour ago."The visit was not a satisfactory one, and Mrs. Crawford did not prolong it.Left to herself in the old-fashioned Beechcroft house, Louise De Lansac might have gone down to the sitting room and comforted and amused her stepfather, but she was not unselfish enough for that.She hunted up a new novel, filled her pockets with candy, and went down to her favorite seat, under an immense beech tree, not far from the river, to enjoy herself in her own fashion.She was an inveterate novel reader, and the one set apart for that afternoon was extremely sensational. Yet, for some reason, it failed to charm the young lady's attention.Her thoughts were otherwise--in a word, they were with Tom. She was wondering what under the sun had become of him!Having succeeded so admirably in her little ruse with Cap'n Frank, Louise was impatient to try the same game with Tom, but he did not appear.Sitting under the old beech tree, with her hat on the grass, and her uncut novel in her lap, the young lady took out the pretty medallion case, and looked at the pictured face it contained.On the morning after Tom's last interview with Cap'n Frank, when they parted at the gate, and he went off to search for the old Roman locket, Louise had found the gold medallion lying in the grass, with a card attached to it on which was written: "From Tom, to Cap'n Frank."She understood on the instant that the pretty trinket was intended as a parting gift from the young man to his little sweetheart, and at first her intention was to restore it to its owner. But when she had looked at the handsome, manly face for a moment or two, she coveted the medallion for herself, and decided to keep it.Now, Louise was not really in love with Tom--but she admired him--he was a fine fellow, likely to make his way in the world, and, finding her own life at Beechcroft a trifle prosy, she made up her mind to win him, if possible, over Cap'n Frank's head.Sitting under the old beech tree, with the open case in her hand, she looked at Tom's handsome face, laughing softly to herself, as she recalled the incidents of that last morning when Cap'n Frank left for the convent."She believed every word I said, and went off furiously jealous, poor little fool!" she said to herself; "if I could only get hold of Tom, and try my arts on him, before he sees her again, I should feel tolerably certain of success. I wonder where he can be keeping himself. If I were certain about his address, I think I'd try my hand at writing him a confidential letter. I'm not sure I should care to marry him, even if I get the chance, but the fun of winning him out of that little whirlwind's hands pleases me. Heigh-ho, a sail in sight! I think I'll wait and see what it portends! It isn't often we catch sight of a sail in this latitude."It was a small fishing smack that came in sight round the turn of Cedar Point, and, after hugging the shore for a short distance, a rowboat, containing a solitary passenger, was detached and sent ashore.Louise, sitting under the great tree, watched its approach with curious glances."Speak of Satan, and his imps will appear!" she cried out, after a moment, as the boat neared the shore. "It is Tom! Yes, as I live"--her eyes brightening, and the color rising in her cheeks--"it is Tom himself. The Fates are propitious. Nothing could be more opportune!"The boat was in the cove by this time; in another minute the keel struck the shore, and the young man jumped out.Louise sprang up, and hastened down to meet and welcome him."Why, Tom Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Lynwold, is it you? I am so glad, and so surprised, to see you; we have been quite anxious to know what had become of you. And how badly you are looking! Dear me, have you been ill?"Tom was indeed a shadow of his former self. He was pale and haggard, and his right arm was carried in a sling."Yes," he said, speaking in a slow, hesitating way. "Yes, I've been ill, and there were matters that detained me at home, How are all the people at Beechcroft?"The poor fellow's lips trembled as he asked the question, and his eyes shone with feverish fire.Louise could not help feeling some pity for him, as she looked up at his changed face; but she was too selfish to forego her purpose."Oh, they are all about as usual, I believe. No, they're not, either; the major's got a twinge of the gout, and, let's see--Trix has run away, and Cap'n Frank's gone to the convent; but, of course, you know that.""I supposed she had gone," replied Tom quietly. "Have you heard how she likes it?"Louise picked up her hat, and began to twirl round by the strings."Oh, yes, we've had two or three letters," she replied, "She likes it better than she expected. The nuns are very good to her, I believe. Won't you sit down here on the grass, Mr. Lynwold ? You look dreadfully used up."Tom threw himself down on the green turf, and almost instantly Louise sank gracefully down beside him."This is more comfortable," she said. "I like to sit here and watch the river. You're going to Beechcroft to-night, aren't you?""I don't know. I haven't much time on my hands just now. My steamer sails to-morrow afternoon," replied the young man gravely.Louise turned and looked at him with wide, wistful eyes."Tomorrow afternoon? Oh, Tom, not so soon, surely.""Yes, that is the time. I only came to say good-by, and--and--well, I thought there might be a letter for me."Louise comprehended the situation in a twinkling."A letter from Cap'n Frank?" she said. "There's no letter, but she asked me to deliver a message.""A message for me? What was it, Miss Louise?"He turned and looked at the girl as he spoke, his pale face flushing, his eyes full of eager hope."She told me to say to you that you need not trouble to hunt for her old locket," Louise went on glibly, "because Mr. Throckmorton had found it for her, and it was all settled. She said you would understand."If this heartless girl had driven a dagger into Tom's heart, she could not have hurt him worse, but he gave no sign.He was silent a moment, then he said quietly, rising to his feet:"Yes, I understand."Louise arose, also, a wicked glitter in her black eyes."I believe it is a settled thing," she said, with a light laugh. "Don't you think it is?""What do you refer to?" said Tom. "I don't understand.""Oh, the understanding between Cap'n Frank and Dick Throckmorton, I mean. He's been dead in love with her ever since that night she played Cinderella, and I think there's an engagement now--things looked like it, at all events, that last morning. Throckmorton came over to see Cap'n Frank off, and I heard her promise to write to him--but she's a harum-scarum little thing. Aren't you going up to Beechcroft, Mr. Lynwold?""Not to-night, I think. I may call to-morrow ; if not, I'll write to the major. Good afternoon, Miss Louise."The girl held out her pretty hand."Oh, Tom," she cried impulsively, "I hate to see you go; indeed I do! It will be awfully dull at Beech- croft without you. I wish you'd write to us now and then. Will you?""I shall be glad to do so," replied Tom gratefully. "You are very kind, Miss Louise.""Nonsense! The kindness is all on your side, Tom. We shall be only too glad to get your letters; and I'll take it upon myself to answer them, and give you all the news.""Thank you a thousand times. Good-by, Miss Louise."The girl gave him her hand a second time, averting her face as she did so."I do hate to part from people," she said childishly, a tremor in her voice. "It makes me miserable. Don't you think you can come to-morrow, Tom, just for a little while?""I'll try," he said.And, letting her hand fall, he strode away."The ungrateful scamp! I gave him a chance to kiss my hand, and he didn't do it," said Louise, resuming her seat tinder the beech tree. "But I've sowed the right seed, and it will bring forth fruit."CHAPTER XVII. A FRIEND IN NEED.It was pitch dark, and the summer cloud had overspread the entire heavens, but Cap'n Frank still crouched in her hiding place under the shadow of the convent wall.The music of the organ had ceased, the convent doors were closed for the night, and no one had come to seek her.She felt unspeakably wretched and forlorn, poor little madcap, sitting there in the dismal darkness, with the storm about to burst upon her unprotected head; but she did not falter in her purpose, not for an instant.She might go back to the convent and ring for admittance, and beg to be taken in.She knew full well that the pious sisters, who never turned from even the lowest outcast, would not refuse to forgive and help her.But she was determined not to go back. She had broken her promise to Uncle Jack--and Tom had deceived and failed her--and the best thing she could do was to go out into the wide world and seek her fortune.Ah, if she only had little black Trix and her precious Cremona!She was watching the lightning, leaping out ever and anon, and wondering how she should manage to scale the wall; and if she could not manage to disguise herself in some way, and go back to Beechcroft and look at Uncle Jack's dear old face for the last, last time, and get Trix and the precious old Cremona, when a sudden rustling and scrambling above her startled her almost out of her senses.What on earth could it be?--a great owl roosting amid the branches?Cap'n Frank scrambled to her feet and looked up, her heart beating with terror.The scrambling increased; the limbs of the trees quaked and trembled; there was a sudden screeching cry, and then a black object came tumbling over the wall, and sprawled itself out at the terrified girl's feet."Oh, mercy! what's that?" she cried out aloud, retreating a step or two, and then pausing in a sort of fascination of terror."Oh, Lordy, I's bruk my back!--'deed I's bruk my back--oh, Lordy!"Cap'n Frank held her breath and shook in every limb, but she moved a step nearer.At that moment a broad sheet of lightning swept the heavens, and in the yellow glare the little black object was clearly visible."Lord a' mussy, Cap'n - Frank!" cried a screechy voice; "dat you?"Oh, good gracious! Trix, Trix! --oh, Trix, can it be you?"And in less time than it takes to tell it, Cap'n Frank was on her knees, and had the little black object in her arms.The little negress seemed pretty well shaken up; she gasped once or twice, and showed the white of her eves in a ghastly way, when the lightning blared; but she managed to speak at last, in a squeaky voice:"Ye-e-s, Cap'n Frank, it's me--what's lef' ob me."Her mistress laughed and cried all in a breath, and, catching the child's round, woolly head, hugged it close to her heart."Oh, Trix," she panted, "I'm so glad to see you--I'm so glad'. I can scarcely believe my own eyes. I was wishing for you this minute, Trix--this very minute. but how did you get here, Trix--tell me that? Did it rain you down, like it does toads in the summer time?""Lor', no, Cap'n Frank, cou'se it didn't. How you 'spec' it rain me down, an' nary drop dun fall yit? answered Trix, impatiently. "I jes' tumbled ober de wall, an' nighly bruk my back, too.""Oh, you poor, dear child! "Trix, if you only knew how I was longing to see your little black face, and here you are! But, Trix, how did you find me--how did you get here'?""Didn't fin' you 'tall. Mr. Frockmourtin fotch me in his kerridge, an' sot me atop ob de wall, an' I jes' tumble ober--dat's all.""Mr. Throckmorton!" cried Cap'n Frank, looking from side to side, with dilating eyes. "Why, is he here?""Sho he am, Cap'n Frank. How I gwine git hyar 'ceptin' he fotch me in his kerridge ? Ain't I dun tole you dat?"Cap'n Frank was sorely puzzled, but she guessed at enough to make her cheeks flush and her heart beat fast."But where is Mr. Throckmorton now, Trix?" she asked, at last."He's on t'odder side--sed he'd walk 'bout a bit, an' be reddy when we wanted him; but de lettah'll tell ye, Cap'n Frank.""Why, is there a letter, Trix?""Sho dar's a lettah. Dat's what I comed for, don' ye see?--ter fotch ye de lettah, Cap'n Frank. I hope I ain't los' it. Ye see," she went on, as she fumbled in the bosom of her linsey frock, "I runned 'way from Beechcrof' t'odder day. Miss Cleo, she beat me wid a whip 'kase I wouldn't druv de cullie dorg out, an' I sed it wus yo' dorg, and I wouldn't, an' den I made tracks.""Good for you, Trix, good for you!" cried the madcap, clapping her hands. "Go on, and tell me what happened next.""Well, I got harf starved, and went ober ter de Hall ter git sumfin ter eat, an' I met Mr. Frockmourtin, an' he arxed me of I didn't want ter come an' see my young mistress, an' I said yaas, and so he fotch me in his kerridge.""And what did he tell you to do, Trix?""Why, ter hunt fur you, in cou'se, Cap'n Frank, an', when I fin' ye, ter gib ye de lettah. Hi! hyar 'tis at las'; I didn't think I'd los' it, sho 'nuff."She drew a sealed envelope from her bosom, and put it in Cap'n Frank's hand."How ye gwine ter read it, now, in dis pitch dark she said; "tell me dat."The girl took the letter in her hand and stood silent a moment, her breath coming fast, and a glittering light in her blue eyes."There's a lamp-post up at the gate, yonder," she said, at last. "We might read it there, Trix, but the chances are that they'll catch us, and lock us up.""We won't let 'em," said the little negress, with a chuckle; "we'll run.""So we will," assented Cap'n Frank. "I think we'll risk it, anyhow." And, hand in hand, the two started across the grounds in the direction of the lamp-post.CHAPTER XVIII. THE FATES PROPITIOUS.Louise was not in the least surprised when Tom Lynwold appeared at Beechcroft the following morning--on the contrary, she was expecting him--and, having taken unusual pains with her toilet, was seated on the terrace, with her drawing materials scattered about her, when the young man drove up."Ah, there you are, Mr. Lynwold!" she cried, scattering her crayons and pencils in all directions, and hastening to meet and welcome him. "I was this moment wondering if you'd come. Won't you come sit on the terrace a few minutes while I cut you a bunch of roses? There's no telling when you'll get roses from Beechcroft again.""That's true," said Tom sadly, as, with the air of a man who is scarcely responsible for his actions, he followed the young lady to the terrace, and accepted the seat she offered him.He looked frightfully pale and haggard, and still carried his arm in a sling, and when he removed his hat, Louise caught sight of an ugly bruise on his temple."Why, Tom!" she cried. "What under the sun have you been doing to yourself? You carry your arm in a sling, and your temple's all black and blue; what does it mean? Not a fight, surely?"Tom's pale face flushed painfully, and he answered with evident effort:"No, not a fight, Miss Louise. I--I--met with an accident, but I prefer not to speak of it at present."Louise looked at the young man curiously, as she clipped and arranged the roses."I beg your pardon," she said; "I didn't mean to be intrusive, but it pains me to see you looking so forlorn. I wish you'd let me be your friend, Tom," she added impulsively; "I should be so glad to help you, if there's anything I can do."Tom was sorely tried that morning, and the girl's kindness touched him. He looked up with grateful eyes."You are very good," he said simply, "and I feel like accepting your offer. I don't think I ever felt the need of a friend more than I do this morning.""I'm your man, then," said Louise merrily. "Let's shake hands on it."She held out her pretty hand, which Tom took, pressing it gratefully, and then raising it to his lips."Now, then," continued the young lady, blushing with delight, "tell me what I can do for you."He was silent for a moment, his handsome face sad and perplexed."I thank you for your kind intention," he said, at last; "but there isn't much you can do.""You can trust me, at least," suggested Louise; "and perhaps I might be able to comfort you, if nothing more.""I shall not soon forget your kindness, Miss Louise," said the poor fellow; "but my trouble is peculiar, and cannot be shared with another. However, I would like to ask you a question, if you'll allow me. Can you tell me anything about Dick Throckmorton ? I called at the Hall this morning, and his people said he had disappeared--""Yes," Louise broke in, "that is the rumor. Mr. Throckmorton has vanished, and his people have employed their solicitor to hunt him up, and his pretty fiancee consoles herself in the meantime by flirting with Captain St. Denys. Altogether, the state of affairs is quite romantic. But I've got a private opinion of my own. Shall I tell you what it is, Mr. Lynwold? Well, just this: Dick Throckmorton hasn't come to grief, as his people imagine. He's gone down to the convent to see Cap'n Frank."Tom winced, as if the girl had struck him a sharp blow, but he managed to control his voice."What makes you think so?" he asked."Oh, well, I don't know," replied Louise carelessly. "I profess to get clairvoyant every now and then, you know; somehow or other I seem to see the end of things sooner than most people do. I s'pose it is a sort of gift I'm endowed with. I don't think I'm mistaken in this; Dick Throckmorton was very much in love, and he has gone a-wooing on the sly, and the next thing, we know there'll be a runaway match on record, if I'm not much mistaken.""Heaven forbid!" said Tom earnestly, quite thrown off his guard for the moment.Louise turned round, and looked at him with wondering eyes."Why, what's the matter?" she said. "Is there anything so very wrong with Mr. Throckmorton? I was thinking Cap'n Frank would be making a pretty good match."Tom made no answer. He got on his feet with an effort, and, by the sheer force of his strong will, controlled himself."You have done me a greater service than you think,' Miss Louise," he said, after a moment. "I came here feeling miserably undecided this morning. But I see my duty clearly enough now. I am very much obliged to you. I'm going to have a little talk with the major now--shall I say good-by?""Oh, no; I'll see you again. I'll wait here, and give you the roses when you come back.""Very well."And Tom bowed himself away, and went into the house, leaving the girl sitting on the terrace, with her lap full of roses."Well, I should be glad to know what ails the fellow," reflected Louise, when she found herself alone. "I wonder if he and Throckmorton can have come to blows? It certainly looks like it. There's a mystery somewhere, and I must find out what it is. I can't make up my mind as yet whether I've done well or ill this time. But I made him kiss my hand, at any rate. That's one victory gained."In the meantime, Tom Lynwold had been ushered into the major's presence, as he sat in the bay window enjoying his morning cigar."I've come to have a little private talk with you, major," the young man said, when the usual salutations were over; "and, as it is of rather a serious nature, I shall be glad if we can be secure from interruption."The old gentleman arose and pushed back his chair."We'll go into the library, Tom," he said; "this is my wife's sitting room, and she and the girls may be dropping in on us at any moment. Give me your arm, my dear fellow--this confounded foot of mine isn't much better."It happened that, only a few minutes previous, Cleo De Lansac had entered the library, and, feeling somewhat out of sorts, she threw herself on a Turkish lounge that occupied the lower end of the long room, and, loosening the heavy drapery, suffered it to fall together, its silken folds completely shutting her in.She had passed a sleepless night, and felt jaded and worn out in consequence; and, besides, having purpose in view, she was anxious to mature and think out her plans.For some minutes she lay, with wide-open eyes, her brain busy and her thoughts alert, and then, almost before she was aware of it, she dropped off into a fitful doze, from which the sound of voices roused her."Now, Tom, lock the door, my boy, and we shall be free from intrusion. I'm all curiosity to hear what you've got to say."Miss De Lansac arose on her elbow, and put forth her hand to draw the heavy drapery aside; but at that moment the key rasped in the lock, and Tone Lynwold came over and seated himself in front of the major."Now, Tom, said the old soldier, "what is it? Don't beat about the bush--come to the point at once.""I'll try, sir. Let me begin by asking you a question.""Go ahead--as many as you like, my boy.""Do you think, sir," said Tom, his voice unsteady in spite of all his efforts, "have you any reason to believe that there is anything serious between your niece and Dick Throckmorton?"Miss De Lansac had been irresolute up to that moment, but, hearing Throckmorton's name, she dropped noiselessly back upon the Turkish cushions, and closed her eyes."I shall remain where I am," she said to herself; "if they see fit to come blundering in here--locking me in--and talking their secrets in my very ears, I can't see that I'm to blame. Besides"--with a silent chuckle --"it may be to my interest to hear."In the meantime, Major Crawford had wheeled round in his chair, and was staring at Tom in silent consternation. All at once he broke out into laughter."By Jove, I see how it is!" he cried. "You're jealous, Tom. That's what's the matter with you, my poor boy. You're jealous of Throckmorton--but there's no need. He saved Cap'n Frank's life, and the child's grateful, of course. But when that's said, all's said.""I'm afraid you're mistaken, sir--""Nonsense!" interrupted the old man impatiently. "I know what I'm talking about. Don't be a fool, Tom! I've been puzzling my wits to find out what had come between you and Cap'n Frank, but I understand now. You've got jealous, and quarreled with the child, and now you're both miserable. I thought you had better sense, Tom--I did, by George!""I regret to be obliged to contradict you, sir," said the young man gravely; "but you're all wrong. I'm not jealous without cause, neither have I quarreled with Cap'n Frank. I asked her to be my wife. She refused, and now I have reason to believe, indeed, I know, she has promised to marry Throckmorton."The poor old gentleman looked like one stunned."Promised to marry Throckmorton? Why, she hasn't known the fellow a month. Tom, I can't believe it.""It is true, sir, I am sorry to say.""Confound it, seems to me you take the matter very coolly! How long have you known this wonderful news? Why haven't you told me before? And, while I'm about it, what have you been doing with yourself for the last two or three weeks?--answer that, sir."The old soldier was getting terribly excited; his face had grown livid, and his hands shook."Unless you try to control yourself, sir, I can't tell you anything," said Tom. "Don't get excited. We shall never come to an understanding if you do.""Well, I'll try not, Tom. Go on, my boy; tell me all you know about this miserable business, and don't take offense at what I've said. You know how much I think of my poor little madcap."Tom's clear eyes grew dim with tears for a moment, and his lips trembled like a woman's."You can't think any more of her than I do, sir," he said. "It is only for her sake that I have come to you this morning. I regret exceedingly to be obliged to distress you in this way, sir--""Never mind, my dear fellow, don't have a thought of that--go on, go on!""Very well, sir. In order to make you see matters as they really are, I am compelled to tell you a story which I had almost made up my mind never to reveal, but I'll be as brief as possible.""All, right; go ahead, Tom. Don't keep me in suspense."The young man resumed his seat, and, in as few words as possible, told the story of that eventful morning, when, with such high hopes, he went out to the Witch's Rock to hunt for Cap'n Frank's old Roman locket.The major listened in dead silence, and so did Miss De Lansac, lying on the Turkish couch at the lower end of the room."But how is it that you are here?" said the old gentleman, when the story was finished ; "I can't understand that, Tom. How was your life saved?""That is a mystery, sir, which I am unable to explain," the young man replied. "The last I remember is being crushed down by a terrible blow, and hurled over the side of the boat into the river. Then all is a blank until I awoke to life and consciousness in a little cabin on the mountainside. But how I got there, Heaven only knows.""Why, who lived at the cabin? Could no one tell you?""Only an old woman lived there, a horrible creature, who looked like a witch, and she refused to explain. I tried bribes, entreaties, and threats, but in vain. She had but one answer:"'You've saved your life, and that's enough, ain't it ? What I know or don't know ain't none o' your business.'""Well, good heavens! And she wouldn't tell you anything?""Not a word, sir; so I had to give it up in despair, and the moment I was able to get on my feet I came here, and, after all, I'm too late.""Too late for what, Tom? I don't understand.""Oh, sir; too late to warn Cap'n Frank of danger! She's gone, and, from all I can hear, she has promised to marry Throckmorton."Promised the deuce!" cried the old man angrily. "I'll see whether she marries him or not. Somebody was telling me yesterday the fellow had disappeared --Throckmorton, I mean. Tom, it can't be possible! you don't think--""I'm afraid the worst has happened, sir," replied Tom, his face white, and his lips moving nervously. "I'm afraid I've got here too late."The major leaped to his feet, quite unconscious of the pain the sudden movement caused him."Ring the bell," he cried, his voice unsteady, his hands shaking, the veins swelling out on his temples. "We'll go at once, Tom. We must save her. Ring the bell, I tell you, and order out the carriage--we've only time to make our train. If it weren't for this confounded foot of mine," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. But I'll get there somehow, and bring the poor little madcap home. Hurry, Tom! We mustn't be too late. We must save the poor little mad--"The words were lost in a suffocating cry, and, throwing up his hands, the old soldier fell to the floor as if he had been shot.Some minutes later, while everything was in confusion, Miss De Lansac managed to slip out from her place of concealment, and make her escape unobserved."Ah, the Fates are propitious," she said, when she had gained her own room. "I thought myself lucky to have got possession of her secret, and now I have his, as well. The hour of my vengeance is at hand."CHAPTER XIX.A MAD ESCAPADE.The flash of a lantern, and the voices of persons calling, attracted Cap'n Frank's attention, as, holding little black Trix by the hand, she went scurrying across the convent grounds in the direction of the gate."Sh--hush--did you hear that? and behold the light!" she whispered. "They've come to hunt me at last. I was sure they would. Don't make a breath of noise, Trix, on your life! We mustn't let them find us; I'm not going back. Oh, Trix, here they come; what shall we do?""Drop down in de grass under dat big tree, an' lay, dar twil dey parses by," suggested Trix, giving Cap'n Frank's hand a vigorous jerk."Quite a good idea," said the latter; and, a minute later, they were lying under the tree, hidden by the rank grasses.The searching party from the convent, consisting of the janitor and two of the sisters, passed slowly by, flashing their lanterns from side to side, and shouting and calling at intervals."Oh, that miserable girl; what can have become of her?" said a voice, which the madcap instantly recognized as Sister Dorothea's. "Where can she have hid- den herself? The storm will he on us in a few minutes now; I'm afraid we shall not find her.""I'm sure she's got out of the grounds in some way," said the janitor. "If she were anywhere within hearing of our voices, she'd be glad enough to give herself up, with such a tempest brewing overhead. Yes, I am sure she's managed to get out of the grounds."Then the party passed slowly on out of sight, while the object of their solicitude, lying at full length in the grass, laughed in wicked enjoyment."Now's our time, Trix," she said, springing to her feet when the last glimmer of the lantern had disappeared; "come on, we shall have the storm about our ears in a few minutes."Poor Trix was half asleep, and aching in every limb with weariness, but she scrambled to her feet, and went scurrying after her mistress in the teeth of the rising wind.It was pitch dark, save when the lightning blazed athwart the heavens; and, the first big drops of the coming storm were falling heavily on their unprotected heads by the time they reached the gatepost, on the top of which the lantern burned.Cap'n Frank had the precious letter clutched tight in her hand; she drew near the lamp, and, tearing the envelope open, drew forth the half sheet, on which were a few hastily scrawled lines.Standing on tiptoe, she managed to make out their meaning by the flaring, uncertain light:"CAP'N FRANK: I have waited to hear from you until I can wait no longer, so I send you this by a trusty messenger. I have been hanging round the convent off and on ever since you entered it. I shall be here to-night, and to-morrow, and every day until I hear from you, or catch a glimpse of your sweet face. If you have had enough of your imprisonment, and need my assistance, come to the southeast corner, where the statue of St. Joseph stands, and whistle through your hand. I shall be there, and will lay down my life, if need be, to serve you. Yours to command, THROCKMORTON."The romance of the situation pleased the madcap. Her eyes kindled, and the color deepened in her cheeks."The southeast corner, where the statue of St. Joseph stands," she said softly, crumpling up the letter, and hiding it in her bosom. "Why, that's on the other side of the building. Come on, Trix." Catching her little satellite by the hand, she went fluttering 'across the grounds like a storm-driven bird.The rain was falling in torrents by this time, the thunder rattling overhead, and the lightning blazing incessantly.Poor Trix began to whimper, and begged to be allowed to take shelter under a tree until the fury of the storm had abated, but Cap'n Frank laughed derisively."Come on, you poor little coward," she panted, her blue eyes blazing, her cheeks glowing, "what are you afraid of? We're not sugar or salt, so we shan't melt. I think it is glorious fun! Come on, come on. Look, the lightning is just at our heels, and there goes another peal of thunder! If you dare to stop you're done for, Trix! Run for your life!"And so, by threats and persuasions, she managed to keep her companion's courage up, and at last, drenched to the skin, and quite out of breath, they reached their destination, and dropped down, quite spent, at the foot of the statue."Now," said Cap'n Frank, when she could command her voice, "I'm going to give the signal. Listen, Trix!"And, putting her delicate fist to her lips, she whistled three times, soft and clear as a bird.Almost instantly the call was answered, and before she could get on her feet, the madcap heard a voice from the other side."I am here; wait one minute while I adjust the ladder."The ladder! Cap'n Frank's heart leaped, and she began to tremble with excitement.She would soon be free--out of her prison--in the gay, happy world once more."Oh, Trix!" she whispered. "Be ready. He is going to help us over the wall!""I knows," assented Trix, her round eyes shining, the raindrops trickling down her plump, black cheeks. "I knows; he fotch de ladder 'long wid him."In another breath of time there was a movement amid the branches of the overhanging trees; then the light of a lantern flashed over them, and, looking up, Cap'n Frank saw Throckmorton's dark face appear above the top of, the wall.For some reason or other, it reminded her of old stories she had heard of Mephistopheles, and she retreated, with a stifled cry of terror.But before she could make a second step Throckmorton's voice arrested her."Come; the ladder is ready," he said. "You'd better be quick; I see a light in the grounds, on the other side of the building."Cap'n Frank was herself again."Come, Trix," she said; "I'll go over first, and do you follow me, and don't make a breath of noise."The rain was pouring in torrents, and the thunder boomed overhead; but, under the wide-spreading branches of a large tree, they were comparatively sheltered.The rope ladder was in place, and Throckmorton's dark face was still visible."Come!" he said. "The ladder is safe. I won't let you fall.""Oh, I am not afraid," replied the madcap; and, seizing hold of the dangling ropes, dimly visible by the light of the lantern, she clambered up until she reached the top. Then Throckmorton's strong arms clasped and held her, and in another moment she was on the other side."There, now," he said, placing her on her feet; "wasn't that nicely done?""Very," said Cap'n Frank. "Now get Trix, Mr. Throckmorton."But even while she spoke, a little black object came tumbling over the wall, and clambered down the ropes with the agility of a squirrel."Trix doesn't need assistance," laughed Throckmorton; "she's capable of taking care of herself under any circumstances. But, good heavens, how it rains! I'm afraid you're almost drowned, Cap'n Frank! Take my arm, please, and let me get you to my carriage. It isn't far off.""Oh, I don't mind the rain," said the madcap; "and I don't need your arm, thank you, Mr. Throckmorton. I can get on better alone. But I'm awfully glad to be free again," she added; "I'm ever so much obliged to you for getting me out of that hateful place. You can't imagine what I've endured.""Why didn't you let me hear from you?" asked Throckmorton, keeping close beside her. I've waited from day to day; you might have been free a week ago, if you had only said the word.""Oh, well, there was no way to send you a message; and, besides, I had promised Uncle Jack to be a good girl, and I never made up my mind to run away until to-clay. Oh"--with a fluttering sigh-- there will be a big row, I dare say, when the whole thing gets out.""Here we are at last," said Throckmorton, as they came upon a closed vehicle standing in a sheltered corner, "let me put you in, Cap'n Frank. I'm afraid you are dreadfully wet.""I couldn't be much wetter," laughed the madcap, as she took her seat in the carriage: "but never mind about that. Where are you going to take us, 'Mr. Throckmorton?""Into comfortable quarters, you may be sure of that," he replied. "Come, Trix."The little negro sprang in like a cat--Throckmorton followed--the door closed with a snap, and then the carriage rolled away, leaving the safe old convent, with its twinkling lights, far behind in the rainy darkness.CHAPTER XX. MARRIED IN HASTE.The hour might have been midnight, or it might have been dawn of day, when the carriage at last stopped; Cap'n Frank could not tell; she had been awake and asleep a dozen times, it seemed to her, and they had gone on and on, through the deep darkness and dripping rain, until her patience was nearly exhausted.But at last the carriage stopped, and Throckmorton arose and opened the door."Well, we are at our journey's end at last," he said."I think it is high time," Cap'n Frank responded. "Where have you carried me to?--to the ends of the earth?""Not quite--to the house of an old friend of mine, where I am certain you will be made comfortable. Wake up, Trix, and jump out. Now, Cap'n Frank; allow me to assist you.""Thanks very much, but I never need assistance in a matter like this," replied the madcap; and, before Throckmorton could touch her, or even offer her his hand, she sprang from the steps with the airy motion of a bird, and was on the ground.Trix followed, rubbing her eyes with her fists, and whimpering audibly; and the three went through a small gate and up a gravel walk to a cottage house, in the door of which a light was shining.A middle-aged woman in black, with a white kerchief about her neck, and a high-crowned cap on her head, stood on the steps, apparently awaiting their coming."Mrs. Fenwick, this is Miss Crawford," said Throckmorton. "Cap'n Frank, Mrs. Fenwick is an old friend of mine--she'll take excellent care of you.""My poor, dear child, how wet you are!" cried the woman, as Cap'n Frank entered. "Come right upstairs and let me make you comfortable.""Yes, take Miss Crawford upstairs, and let her little maid go with her," said Throckmorton; "and you'd better give them some tea in their own room, Mrs. Fenwick. Good night, Cap'n Frank," he added; "I shall not see you again until to-morrow. Allow me to wish you a pleasant night's rest.""The same to you, sir," replied the madcap demurely, as, with little Trix trotting after her, she followed Mrs. Fenwick upstairs.The room they entered was unsually bright and attractive in all its appointments. A velvet carpet covered the floor, silken curtains draped the windows, the furniture was exquisitely upholstered. Pictures, bric-a-brac, and all the pretty nothings in which women take delight, littered the tables and the dressing case, and on a little stand, placed in front of the open fire, were some books and magazines, and a violin.Cap'n Frank's heart jumped, and she threw up her two hands, with a cry of childish delight."Oh, what a lovely room! And a fiddle, as I live! Trix, we must be in fairyland.""I'm glad you like it," said Mrs. Fenwick pleasantly; "I tried to make you comfortable. In that closet there you'll find a change of garments for yourself and your little maid; on the other side, in that curtained alcove, your hot bath is waiting. I'll leave you, now, to make yourself comfortable; as soon as you're ready, pull the bell cord, and I'll bring up your tea.""Trix," cried the madcap, staring about her with wondering eyes, when the woman had gone, "Trix, am I dreaming? Pinch me, and let me see if it hurts. All this can't be real; we must be in an enchanted castle; don't you think so, Trix?""I t'inks you bettah lemme he'p you ter git dem wet close off, Cap'n Frank--dat's what I t'inks," replied the little negress, with a wise shake of her woolly pate; "fust t'ing you knows you'll cotch yo' death o' cold, an' be laid up wid r'eumatiz; 'sides, if you gwine ter tuk yo' barf, an' git somethin' ter eat, yo' bettah be 'bout it, 'kase de sun gwine ter riz presently."Thus sagely admonished, Cap'n Frank set to work at once, and in a very short time emerged from the warm bath refreshed and rested, and looking entranc- ing in a dainty wrapper of sky-blue cashmere, with ruffles of soft lace about her throat and wrists, and her golden hair all in a tangle of shining curls. Trix, too, was transformed, and might easily have been mistaken for an angel done in ebony, in her flowing white gown."We must be dreaming, Trix," said the madcap, surveying herself, with smiling complacency, in the French mirror. "I shall wake up before long and find myself back in that dingy little cell, in the old convent. However, let's enjoy it while we may. Ring the bell, and let's see what comes next on the program."Trix rang the bell, and, without the least delay, Mrs. Fenwick appeared, bearing quite a good-sized tray."Ah, you look comfortable now," she said pleasantly. "I hope you have an appetite, my dear. Draw up that table, little girl; what's her name? Trix--ah, to be sure! Draw up that table, Trix, and set a chair for your mistress."Trix obeyed, and Cap'n Frank's supper was set before her, and it was tempting enough to have pleased a queen.Broiled birds on toast, cold pheasant's breast, white bread, and golden butter, sweetmeats, and tea, and all served on solid silver and dainty china."Well," said Cap'n Frank, as she helped herself, and realized that she was almost famished, "somebody is treating us very kindly. Who are we to thank, Mrs. Fenwick?""Oh, it's all Mr. Throckmorton's doing," replied the woman. "But he doesn't want any thanks. He told me to make you comfortable.""Well, you succeeded, certainly, said the madcap; and then she proceeded to do ample justice to the good things set before her.It may have been owing to her late supper, or the long and tiresome drive; at all events, Cap'n Frank did not sleep well that night. Day was breaking before she closed her eyes, and when at last she dropped into a fitful dose, her dreams were bad, and her rest was broken.The sun was high in the sky when she got tip the next morning, but she felt tired and spiritless, and her head ached. Not even the sight of the violin could rouse her to any sort of interest. It was not her own precious old Cremona, and she could not bring herself to touch it.Somehow or other, the excitement and romance of the previous night were gone, and the foolish madcap seemed to realize what a deplorable mistake she had made.What would Uncle Jack say when he heard what she had done?He would never forgive her--never, though she lived a hundred years! And Tom? She had been dreaming about him all night, fancying that she was on the Witch's Rock again, with the storm and darkness all about her, and Tom was coming to save her.She could see him in his boat, standing up and rowing against wind and tide.Then all at once a great wave leaped up, kissing the very heavens, and when it came down in a deluge, that was the end. Tom and his boat had both disappeared.The dream was an unpleasant one, and Cap'n Frank would fain have banished it from her thoughts, but she found it impossible.What was Tom to her, she asked herself, with kindling eyes and flushing cheeks. Hadn't he deserted her and given his photograph to Louise De Lansac?Her cheek burned, and her heart beat with angry throbs, but the influence of the dream remained.When breakfast was over, Throckmorton joined her on the side portico, which overlooked the river.They stood for a few minutes watching the fishing boats and the flight of the gulls. At last Throckmorton said:"Well, Cap'n Frank, have you any commands for me? I am quite at your service."The madcap shook her head."There is nothing you can do for me, thank you. Mr. Throckmorton." she said. "I was just thinking that Trix and I shall have to do as we did years ago when we started out to seek our fortune, toss pennies to find out which way we shall go.""I beg your pardon, but I don't understand you," said the young man gravely."Oh, well, it doesn't matter in the least," replied his companion, shrugging her shoulders. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I understand myself. I'm ever so much obliged to you for what you did for me last night, of course; but, do you know, Mr. Throckmorton, when I come to think it all over, I half wish I was back in the old convent again.""I'm sorry to hear you say that," he replied; "but I'm sure you don't mean it. If you do, why not let me take you back this morning?""Would you?""Yes, if you say so. I am yours to command, now and forever.""Nonsense! But would you really take me back? I wonder what the good sisters would say? Forgive me, I dare say. But I can't do it--no--no! I can't go back!" "I thought so," said Throckmorton triumphantly. "Cap'n Frank, why not make good your promise to me?""What promise?" she demanded."The promise you made when I found your old locket. I hope you haven't forgotten?""Indeed I had. "That was a silly promise, Mr. Throckmorton. You can't expect me to keep it.""I do, then." he said. "It was made in good faith--why should you break it? Cap'n Frank, listen to me: There is no one on earth who loves you as I do. Won't it be better to keep your promise, and go abroad with me as my wife, than to wander off, with no one to care for you but little Trix, and be forced to go back to Beechcroft in a little while--""No, no, I shall never go back to Beechcroft," she interrupted; "after what has happened, I shall never go hack!""That settles it, then." said Throckmorton, his dark eyes glowing with triumph; "then you belong to me. Oh, my darling, don't shrink away from me! Remember how much I love you. I would die for your sake. You must let me take care of you, Cap'n Frank. In an hour I will bring a minister, who will perform the marriage ceremony. To-morrow we will sail for Europe. Don't look startled, dearest, don't say no. It is sudden, I know. But, then, I promise to be very patient. I won't ask you to love me, I won't intrude myself upon you--I'll b your slave, and try to win you, and there is nothing that money can procure that shall be refused you. You shall have the desire of your heart, be that what it tray. We will travel from city to city, and see the wonders of the world. You shall pursue your favorite study under the great- est masters of the age. Think of it, little sweetheart! Won't such a life be better and sweeter than to start off on foot like a tramp?"The madcap's cheeks were crimson, her eyes shining like stars, and her breath coming fast."If I had my old Cremona," she faltered, "my precious old violin.""You shall have it," said Throckmorton promptly. "I'll get it for you, never fear; and, by and by, when our wedding journey is over, and you come back, beautiful and accomplished, as mistress of Throckmorton Hall, Uncle Jack and all the rest will fall down and worship you. My darling, what do you say?"Cap'n Frank was dazzled, bewildered, like one under the spell of an enchanter.It would be a great triumph, she thought, far better than to go back to Beechcroft disgraced and humiliated, to be laughed at by Tom and all the rest. Far better than to be imprisoned in that stupid old convent. She came to an instantaneous decision, and, turning to Throckmorton, held out her hand. He clasped it, and covered it with kisses."My darling, my darling," he cried rapturously, "you've made me the happiest man on earth."Half an hour later a minister had arrived, and in the sitting room below, the wedding party had taken their places. Throckmorton with Cap'n Frank on his arm, Mrs. Fenwick and her son as sole witnesses, and little black 'Trix a solitary bridesmaid.The minister had taken his place, and the solemn ceremony was about to begin, when there was a great stir without, and a horseman galloped up to the very door."Telegram by special delivery," he shouted. "Is Mr. Throckmorton here?"Throckmorton's dark face grew white with terror, and dropping his bride's arm, he hurried out.In a minute he was back again, his face still blanched, his eyes glowing like living coals."It is nothing," he said, in a repressed voice, crushing the telegram into his pocket. "nothing but a matter of business. Let the ceremony go on."There was no one to interfere, no voice to forbid the banns, and stop the unholy marriage, so the minister began afresh, and went through with the solemn words to the end."I pronounce you man and wife; what God has joined, let no man put asunder."As these last words were spoken, as if she realized for the first time what she was doing, Cap'n Frank uttered a sharp cry, and, removing her hand from the bridegroom's arm, dropped down at his feet in a dead faint.He picked her up, without a word, and carried her upstairs."Attend to her, now; you know what to do," he said to Mrs. Fenwick, who had followed him. "I'11 be back in a minute or two."Then, without taking time to look at the white, still face, he dashed out of the room, and out of the house, and, mounting a horse that was fastened in the yard, he galloped away like one possessed.CHAPTER XXI. REPENTING AT LEISURE."My dear, here's a telegram from your husband." Cap'n Frank started to her feet, with the sensation of one who has received an electric shock.Her husband ! The words seemed to take away her very breath.Never until that moment had she fully realized what she had done.She took no heed of the yellow envelope that Mrs. Fenwick offered her, but stood trembling and silent, clutching at the bedpost, with one hand, for support, and looking so pallid and wild-eyed, that the woman, in terror at the prospect of another fainting fit, flew to the table for the composing draft she had previously mixed.The swoon into which Cap'n Frank had fallen, with the last words of the solemn ceremony that made her Dick Throckmorton's wife ringing in her ears, had been somewhat alarming.For three hours the poor girl had lain unconscious, and in such a state of prostration that scarcely the faintest flutter of pulse or heart was discernible."She's done dead--Cap'n Frank's done dead," wailed poor little Trix, throwing herself face down- ward on the floor. "Oh, Lordy! oh, Lordy! I wish I could die, too!"Strange to relate, Dick Throckmorton did not turn, and Mrs. Fenwick was at her wits' end.More than once, as the trying hours went by, she was on the point of sending her son to the village for a physician.But at last her unremitting efforts began to produce the desired effect.The girl showed signs of resuscitation, and after a time was restored to full consciousness.A heavy sleep followed; and now, having partaken of some light nourishment, she was able to walk about the room--indeed, she seemed quite herself again, when the entrance of Mrs. Fenwick with the telegram threatened to upset her overstrained nerves for the second time."Drink this, my dear," entreated the woman, holding the composing mixture to the trembling girl's lips; "drink it all, it will do you good. Never mind about the telegram now."But Cap'n Frank put the glass aside and rallied, by the sheer force of her own strong will."No, no; take it away. I won't drink another drop," she said. "I'm all right now. Give me the telegram.""It is from Mr. Throckmorton, my dear," explained Mrs. Fenwick, in a soothing tone. "He was called away, you know, immediately after your marriage this--""It is true, then," the madcap interrupted. "I am really married? It isn't a dream? I was beginning to think it was.""Why, certainly you are married! You didn't imagine it was all a dream, did you? Look at your finger--don't you see the wedding ring on it?The girl glanced down at the heavy band of gold, with a faint shudder."No wonder you can't realize that you're married, my poor dear," Mrs. Fenwick continued, "when your bridegroom deserted you at the very altar, but he couldn't help it, I'm very sure of that. It must be some very important business that detains him so long. The telegram will explain matters, I dare say. Shall I open it for you, my dear?""Oh, no, thanks. I can open it myself."Cap'n Frank took the yellow envelope, and, tearing it open, drew forth the narrow slip. The message was brief and to the point:"MY DARLING: I have been detained by important business, but I shall be with you to-night. Try to be patient, and forgive me."She handed the telegram to Mrs. Fenwick, and glanced toward the window through which the westward-going sun was glimmering in golden rays, a slight shudder running over her, a sort of palpitating cry escaping her lips."It will soon be night now," she said, after a moment."Oh, yes, my dear," said Mrs. Fenwick cheerfully; only a few hours more, and your bridegroom will be here. You must try and be patient. You are feeling very much better now, aren't you?""Oh, yes; I am all right now, thank you."The color was coming back to the girl's cheeks, and a strange fire glowed in her blue eyes."Well, you must try and amuse yourself until your husband comes," said the woman, with the most benevolent intention; "he'll soon be here, now. I'm certain the time seems longer to him than it does to you. Why don't you play some on the fiddle, there? I think Mr. Throckmorton told me you could play. You'll find it a very fine instrument."Cap'n Frank shrugged her shoulders, and the light in her velvety eyes seemed to grow more intense."I don't care to play now," she said; "my head aches. If you don't object, ma'am, I think I'll take Trix, and go out for a little walk on the river bank.""The very best thing you can do, my dear. Go, by all means; I'm glad you feel strong enough. Take a nice brisk walk, and you'll bring back an appetite for your supper. I'll have it ready by six o'clock, and ml-be your husband will be here by that time."Cap'n Frank shuddered again, and caught up her hat and wrap, as if she could not get them on quick enough."Now, don't go too far, and get lost," said Mrs. Fenwick, when they stood at the yard gate a few minutes later; "keep along the shore, and you'll be able to find your way back. I'd go with you if I hadn't so much to do.""Oh, we shan't get lost," said Cap'n Frank, with a merry laugh; "I've been in the woods before to-day. Come on, Trix."They went through the gate and across the clover field, and down the bank, through the tangled vines and drooping willows, to the river shore; and Mrs. Fenwick, leaning on the gate, and shading her eyes from the afternoon sun, watched them until they disappeared from sight."I hope the poor child won't overdo herself," she thought as she closed the gate and turned back to the house. "She was dreadfully upset when her bridegroom went off and left her, and no wonder. I can't understand why Mr. Throckmorton should bring the pretty young thing here and marry her, and then take himself off in this way but I suppose his business had to be attended to. I hope he won't make it late before he gets back: the poor child will be dreadfully disappointed if he if he does. Well, well, I must go in and try and knock up some sort of wedding supper, any- how. I don't much approve of such marriages," she supplemented, opening the kitchen door and beginning to collect the ingredients necessary for compounding a hasty wedding cake; "I think they end badly, as a rule. It would have been better, according to my way of thinking, if Mr. Throckmorton had courted and married the pretty child at home; I don't see why her people should object to a handsome, wealthy gentleman like he is. But I dare say there was something in the way. The course of true love rarely runs smooth. They seem to be very fond of each other, and I hope it will all turn out right in the end;" and the good woman, in order to exorcise a certain feeling of unrest and anxiety in regard to the part she had taken in the affair, began to sing the air of an old-fashioned hymn, while she whipped the eggs and weighed out the sugar and butter for her cake.Meanwhile, the sun was journeying westward, and the swift-flowing river glowed like a sea of fire.Cap'n Frank, with little black Trix trotting after her, went on until she was out of sight of Mrs. Fenwick's cottage, then, turning suddenly, she confronted the child."Trix, have you got a penny?" she demanded, her voice steady, but her eyes and cheeks in a blaze.The little negro showed all her glistening ivories in a broad grin."I's jes' 'spectin' dat-'deed wuz I!" she chuckled; "yes'm, I's got er penny.""You were just expecting what, Trix?" demanded her mistress."'Spectin' yo' ter ax fur a penny; yo' gwine rua away now, an' wan' ter toss pennies which way ter go; ain't that it?""That's it." assented Cap'n Frank. "But how did you know?""Jes' guess, dat's all.""Well, you're right. We are going to run away for sure and certain this time, Trix. Bring forth your penny."Trix obeyed, producing a large copper cent from some hidden depths."Yes." said Cap'n Frank reflectively, "we're going for good and all this time, Trix. I've made an awful mistake, and all I can do is to run away from it. Look out, now--here goes ! Heads we go down the river--tails we go up."She tossed the old-fashioned coin high in the air, and it came down heads upward."Down the river," said the madcap briefly. "Come on."She started down the shore at a brisk pace, and "Trix followed with unquestioning obedience.Cap'n Frank's will was the law of the faithful little creature's life.By the time the sun was out of sight behind the pine hills, our two pedestrians had made pretty fair progress.All signs of life and civilization had been left behind them, and they were in the midst of a dense wood, on the edge of which the noisy river ran.To follow the stream, or to keep close to the shore, rather, was getting to be a difficult matter; there were rocks, ravines, and numberless other obstructions in their way, and at last, breathless and tired, the madcap dropped down on a bed of moss, motioning her companion to do likewise."We'll rest a little while, Trix, and then strike across country," she said. "I don't see any good in following the river any longer.""Didn't see no good follerin' it at fus'," grumbled Trix. "I's scratched meh eyes nighly out, an' done sprain meh ankle now.""Poor little soul," said Cap'n Frank, "you look quite worn out. Don't you wish you were back at Beechcroft, Trix?""I wush we's bofe back dar, Cap'n Frank, 'deed duz I."The madcap sighed, and a sudden rush of tears dimmed her eyes."I wish you were back, Trix," she said. "It seems too bad that you should have to suffer on my account.""I aint a-mindin' dat, Cap'n Frank," said the little negress. "I'd rudder be hyar widout yo' dan back at Beechcrof' widout yo', 'deed would I. Hi, didn't I try dat wunce, an' dey beat me, an' I's 'bliged ter run away? No, 'ndeed, don't talk ter dis chile 'bout gwine back widout yo'. But, Cap'n Frank, why carn't we bofe go back tergedder ? 'Pears ter me we mought. Mas'r Jack, he git on top de house at fus'; but, Lordy, he soon come down. I knows Mas'r Jack, 'deed I duz."But the madcap shook her head."No Trix." she said mournfully, "we can't go back now--we can never go hack again."Silence fell between the two then, and with her elbow on her knee, and her fair cheek resting on her hand. Cap'n Frank watched the fleeting sunrays on the distant pine hills, and pondered over her mad escapade.The whole thing seemed a weird, unreal dream, and, closing her eyes, she fancied she could hear the Angelus ringing, and see the nuns tiling chapel ward through the dim corridors of the peaceful old convent.Ah, if she were only back again, safe and secure in her solitary cell, being a good girl, and keeping her promise to Uncle Jack!She had hated it all once; the stone walls shut her in like a prison; the incessant routine of duties was tiresome; and !she had longed for freedom; but now like the unfledged bird that leaves the warm home nest too soon, she longed to be back in the sweet, safe shelter of her little room.Why not go back?The good nuns would receive her, and kind-hearted Sister Dorothea would plead her cause, and make it all right with the mother superior.Why not go back?"Trix, the very best thing we can do," she began, half rising to her feet.And then, with a thrill of indescribable horror and remorse, she remembered what had happened.She was married only that morning she was Dick Throckmorton's lawfully wedded wife!"Oh, Trix," she cried out, in her bitter anguish. "what made me do it? Why didn't you stop me? I was mad, mad! I'd give my life now to recall what I've done. I hate him, I hate him! If I were to see him coming now I'd jump in the river and drown myself rather than see his face or hear his voice. Oh, Trix, what a fool I've been!"The sudden sound of rapid hoofbeats broke in upon these remorseful ravings, and, looking eastward, Cap'n Frank saw a narrow trail or bridle path, and in the distance a solitary horseman.He was riding at a, furious rate, and soon came in sight, his horse all flecked with foam. Trix uttered a guttural cry, pointing with one finger."Oh. Lordy, lookee yonder. Dat's Mister Throckmorton now."Cap'n Frank gave a fleeting glance, and then lowered her head quickly, as one does to escape the glare of a lightning flash.The horseman, taking no heed of the two figures crouching in the shadow of the pines, went sweeping by, and in a few minutes the sound of the rapid hoofbeats died away in the distance.The madcap clasped her hands with a cry of intense gratitude."Oh, Trix, Trix, how glad, I am we got away when we did," she said; "but we mustn't sit here. When he gets to the cottage and finds that we're gone, he'll be sure to start out in search of us. We must hide ourselves somewhere."The horseman who had just gone by at such a breakneck speed was Dick Throckmorton, going back in hot haste to his bride.CHAPTER XXII. THE WICKED FLEE.Houses are like faces, they have a silent language of their own, and in nine cases out of ten, one can tell at a glance whether joy or sorrow abides within.The sun was quite down, and the stars were coming out in the sky, when, with the reins hanging loose over the neck of his jaded horse, Dick Throckmorton rode up to the little cottage by the riverside.The door stood open, and a bright light streamed out, but the upper part of the house was dark and silent, and with his first glance at the window of the room in which he had left his unconscious bride that morning, the young man felt sure that something had happened.What was it? he asked himself, his heart sinking within him.Was she dead? his pretty madcap, his darling, in the very hour when he thought to make her all his own?He set his teeth hard together, as he threw himself from the saddle, and cursed the fate that had upset all his well-laid plans, and obliged him to desert his bride at the very altar.The telegram, which had called Throckmorton away, so suddenly that morning, ran as follows:"DEAR DICK: Your secret is out, and the deuce is to pay. Meet me at the Boscobel this morning, at eleven o'clock, sharp. Don't fail.ST. DENYS."The guilty man's heart stood still, and the color left his dark face, as he took in the meaning of this message, sent by his friend and confidant; the only living creature who had any knowledge of his plans and purposes."I won't go," was his first thought, "I'll take the girl and fly to the ends of the earth."But a moment's consideration convinced him that this would not do. The guilty flee when no man pursueth. It did not occur to this man, who for weeks had been living in a sort of nightmare, his hands stained with blood, and, as he supposed, the sin of murder on his soul, it did not once occur to him that this secret, referred to in the telegram, could possibly be anything else than the awful secret of poor Tom Lynwold's untimely fate; the secret forever hidden from human eyes, as Throckmorton supposed, beneath the restless waves that beat and moaned about the Witch's Rock.But how had this terrible secret got out ? Surely no human eye could have witnessed the cruel, cowardly act.No wonder Throckmorton paled and trembled, as he stood before the minister, with the girl he was so basely deceiving by his side; no wonder the marriage vows died upon his lips!His secret was out, his hidden sin had come to light. Yes, he must go and find out what St. Denys had to say about it.So white and trembling, but dangerously desperate withal, he galloped away, leaving the bride he had just wedded lying speechless and unconscious.The Boscobel was a clubhouse, in a small country town some ten or twelve miles distant, and Throckmorton had to ride hard in order to get there in time.It lacked just ten minutes of eleven when he dashed up the main street, his horse jaded and flecked with foam, his own face white and desperate, a brace of loaded revolvers in his pockets. He was prepared for any emergency.St. Denys, sitting on the portico of the clubhouse, with his feet on the railing and a cigar in his mouth, jumped up, with an exclamation of surprise."Why, my dear fellow, you come like a second John Gilpin; by Jove! how ghastly you look. Anything wrong?"Throckmorton threw the reins to the hostler, and cleared the steps, two at a jump."I got your telegram," he said, his voice repressed, his dark eyes blazing, "and here I am. Come in now, and let's hear what it all means."He strode into the house, and St. Denys followed, a look of wonder on his handsome, indolent face."You take a fellow's breath away, Throckmorton," he said, when they were seated. "What the deuce is out? Has the girl gone back oh you!"In spite of all his savage efforts at self-control, Throckmorton began to tremble."Wait a minute," he said; and seizing the bell rope, he rang for brandy, poured out a glass, gulped it down, and then turned to his friend."Don't ask questions," he said, "it remains for me to do that. You said my secret was out?""So it is. Great heavens, Throckmorton, you're going to faint!""No, I'm not; no, by Jove! go on, St. Denys. Let's hear what there is about it?""Why, your secret's out, I tell you. They've found out you've run off with the girl, and they're after you in hot haste."Throckmorton dropped back in his seat, gasping for breath. For an instant the reaction was too much for him."Is that all?" he gasped at last."All?" echoed his friend, eying him curiously; "what more would you have? Your secret's out, I tell you. The people at Beechcroft are up in arms, and your mother's got hold of the story, too, and has set old Hartraft to hunt you clown. And there's a fellow--I didn't hear his name--who's under oath to shoot you at sight."Throckmorton was thoroughly himself by this time. He understood enough to feel sure that the one awful secret of his life was safe--that he had made an absurd mistake."I'll try not to give him a chance," he said, with a laugh. "But tell me about pretty Rose. How does she take it?"St. Denys shrugged his shapely shoulders."That's hard to tell," he replied. "Sometimes I think she doesn't care a snap, and then again I'm afraid she does. She isn't the sort of woman to betray herself, you know.""No, by Jove ! but you must try to console her, St. Denys ! That's why I summoned you to Beechcroft, you know, that you might win pretty Rose off my hands, and she worth a cool ten thousand a year in her own right. I dare say I'm an enormous fool!""I've never doubted it, my dear fellow; but what about the girl--your present inamorata, I mean?""She is my wife now; I married her two minutes after I received your telegram.""By the Lord Harry! But you didn't, Throckmorton?""I did, on my soul. What do you suppose I sent for you to take Rose off my hands for, if I didn't purpose marrying this girl?""Oh, the deuce, I didn't suppose volt were in earnest.""Well, you know better now, but what in thunder did you send me that telegram for?""That I might put you on your guard. They're after you, as I said, and may pounce down on you without a moment's warning. So the best thing you can do is to cut and run.""That's what I intend to do--what I should have done by this time, but for that confounded message of yours.""Well, you're the most thankless dog alive, Throckmorton. Didn't you make me promise to keep you posted ?""Oh, to--be--sure! I'm not saying a word--only it goes hard with a fellow to be torn from his bride's arms at the altar. But it is all right. I shall go to New York to-night, and sail for the Continent in the first steamer. Try to make it all right with my mother, St. Denys, and do what you can to console poor Rose.""Oh, she won't be likely to break her heart, you conceited puppy!""So much the better. You shall hear from me from Liverpool, old fellow--and be sure you keep me posted about everything. By the way," averting his face, "what's become of that fellow, Lynwold ? He was an old admirer of Cap'n Frank's, you know. There was some talk about him leaving the country, I believe.""Lynwold?" said St. Denys reflectively, "seems me that was the name of the fellow who came to Beechcroft in search of you the other day, and has threatened to shoot you at sight.""Throckmorton's heart leaped in his breast, but he answered carelessly:"Oh, I dare say you're mistaken.""Well, perhaps I am--I've got a wretched memory for names. However, it doesn't signify one way or t'other."Not in the least. Well, old fellow, it is high time I was on the road again--there's no time to lose. Good-by."Good-by, Dick, and good luck to you--but it goes hard with me to see you go--it does, by Jove!""Oh, well, my going will secure pretty Rose and her fortune for you--don't forget that; and, besides, I'm not shaking the dust of my native land off my feet. I expect to come back again as soon as all this trouble blows over. A fellow can't afford to give up his birthright, you know--not even for the girl he adores. Take care of yourself, old fellow."The two friends shook hands, and Throckmorton was turning away when St. Denys recalled hint."Oh, by Jove! Wait a minute, will you? My memory isn't an inch long. Here's a letter for you, and I'm letting you go off without it.""Who sent it?" demanded Throckmorton, as he looked at the address."That I can't tell you. It came with the Beechcroft mail yesterday, so I brought it along. A woman's writing; one of your many victims, I dare say.""Like as not." assented Throckmorton, with a grim smile, as he thrust the letter in his pocket and strode away.CHAPTER XXIII. A WOMAN'S REVENGE.In the saddle, and cantering slowly out of town, Throckmorton took out the letter, broke the fancy seal, and drew forth the exquisitely perfumed sheet.It contained a few prettily penned lines, which ran as follows"Cleo De Lansac will be staying at the Howard House in Rectortown this week, and will be very glad to see Mr. Throckmorton on a matter of importance, at any hour on Wednesday, the 15th inst., that he can make it convenient to call. Mr. Throckmorton's safety may depend on his compliance with this polite request.""The deuce!" he ejaculated. "What does she mean? safety will depend on my compliance with her request. Breach of promise, I dare say. Well, she can do her worst. I'm not going."And putting spurs to his horse, he galloped off.But he had not gone half a mile when a sudden thought, flashing like lightning through his mind, brought him to a standstill.What if it were that secret ? Could it be possible she had got wind of it in any way? It would be better, perhaps, to know.Rectortown lay to the left some eight or ten miles.By hard riding he could take it in, and get back to his bride by night.He reflected a minute or two, the reins hanging loose on his horse's neck, his dark brows knit in anxious thought."Yes, by Jove. I'll do it!" he decided at last. "I'd like to know what she's got to say. I can send a telegram to Cap'n Frank, telling her not to expect me until night. I dare say she thinks I'm treating her shamefully, dear little soul, and so I am. But after to-day she shall have no cause to complain. I never knew what being in love with a woman meant until I met her."He sat silent a moment, a flush of passion warming his dark face and lighting his eyes; then, all at once, he turned his horse's head, and, driving the spurs into the creature's flanks, went skimming away."Miss De Lansac will be delighted to receive Mr. Throckmorton in her private sitting room upstairs."These are the words that came back to Throckmorton, exquisitely penciled on the card he had, a few minutes before, sent up.So he gathered himself together and followed the servant up to the young lady's room.She received him at the door, smiling and stately, and full of gracious sweetness, as in the old Leipsic days."It is very kind of you to come, Mr. Throckmorton." she said, giving him her fair hand; "I am so delighted to see you! Take this armchair in the bay window, and I'll ring for a glass of wine. You look as if you'd been having a long ride.""I've been in the saddle the entire forenoon," the young man replied, wondering while he answered, and the young lady listened, whether she recognized him as her faithless lover or not.There was nothing in her manner, not the most trivial sign, by which he could tell. She was sweet and gracious, and that was all.The wine was brought, and Throckmorton drank it, with many expressions of gratitude, and then waited, with what patience he could command, for the business in hand to begin.But Miss De Lansac seemed in no haste. She turned from one trivial subject to another, conversing with a facile, bewitching fluency that carried her listener back to long afternoons of delicious intercourse in the quaint old house in Germany.At last, driven to desperation as the precious moments went by, Throckmorton ventured to say:"You hinted at something of importance you had to tell me, Miss De Lansac, in your note. Will you a11ow me to ask you to explain the matter? I am somewhat pressed for time this afternoon," he added, "and it is getting late."Miss De Lansac looked at her watch."So it is," she assented with a smiling glance, "when one meets an old friend like yourself, Mr. Throckmorton, time passes almost imperceptibly. But I must not detain you. Will you allow me to open the subject by asking you a question?""Certainly, Miss De Lansac.""Well, Mr. Throckmorton," her voice was deliberately calm, and she looked the young man straight in the eye, with an expression on her fair, smiling face, that made him shiver from head to foot, "well, Mr. Throckmorton, can you call to mind where and how you spent the morning of Thursday, the twenty-third of May--say from six until eleven o'clock?"Throckmorton looked bewildered for a moment; then he gave a sudden start, and the color died out of his face, leaving it a sickly white."Why do you ask me this question?" he managed tea say at last, his voice trembling perceptibly.Her smiling, mocking eyes did not once turn from his face."For the simplest reason in the world," she replied, "because I want an answer. Can you tell me where and how you spent the morning I have mentioned, Mr. Throckmorton?""Yes, I can tell you.""Ah, I rejoice to hear you say that. If you can prove an alibi, Mr. Throckmorton, you will have no further trouble, don't you see?""No, I don't see, or understand, either, for that matter. I wonder if you understand what you're talking about, Miss De Lansac?"Throckmorton put on a bold front, determined to hold his own to the bitter end. But he was no match for the fair woman before him."Yes, Mr. Throckmorton, I know what I'm talking about," she answered serenely, "and if I'm not greatly mistaken, you know, too. Don't you, now? Honor bright, as the children say, don't you know what I'm talking about, Mr. Throckmorton?""No, I don't," he answered gruffly."Then allow me to explain myself at once. I'm talking about what happened on the morning of Thursday, the twenty-third of May, Mr. Throckmorton. Surely you recall the day? Ah, I see you do. It is a red-letter day on your calendar, with a double meaning, isn't it?"Throckmorton leaped to his feet, his face livid, his dark eyes blazing."Curse you!" he said, hissing the words out through his shut teeth. "You've found out my secret. What are you going to do about it?""What are you going to do about it, Mr. Throckmorton? That question applies not to me, but to yourself," said Miss De Lansac serenely.The young man came nearer, his hands clenched, and murder looking out of his somber eyes."I shall do nothing." he replied. "The secret is at rest. But, mark me," his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "if you lift a finger to stir it up--to bring it to light. I'll murder you!"His dark face, as he bent toward the girl, was like the face of a fiend; but she showed no signs of terror."Dear me, how tragic you are, Mr. Throckmorton," she said, with a ripple of amused laughter. "You would make yourself a name before the footlights. But I know just how much your threats are worth. Don't think to intimidate me, that can't be done."He stood and looked at her a moment in silence--this fair, proud woman, whose head had drooped upon his breast in blushing joy, whose red lips had met his own in love's shy kisses, in the days that were gone. And now, by some chance, she held his life in her hands."What will you move, then?" he said at last, in a repressed voice. "Pity, love, persuasion? Answer me."Miss De Lansac turned her calm gaze upon him for a moment, and then broke out into a laugh that was half a sob."You know me," she said, "as I know you. We have known each other from the first. The time was when I would have torn out my living heart and laid it at your feet to have served you. But now," and she laughed a cruel, pitiless laugh, "now, if by lifting my hand thus, I could save you from the shameful punishment that will in due time be meted out to you--if, by lifting my hand, I could save you, I wouldn't do it. Mr. Throckmorton, you are answered, and our interview is at an end. I bid you good evening." With a mocking bow and a malicious smile, she disappeared.Throckmorton stood like one stunned for a moment, then he called and rapped on the door. A servant came to know what was wanted."I want to see Miss De Lansac a moment. Where is she?"Gone out driving, sir, with a gentleman. "Throckmorton ground out a terrible oath between his shut teeth.Gone, and his secret in her keeping; and she as cruel, and relentless as the grave. What should he do?For a moment or two he stood irresolute, torn by conflicting emotions, then he left the house, and throwing himself into the saddle, went galloping across the country like a madman.He would get back to his bride by nightfall, and, taking her with him, fly to the uttermost ends of the earth.That was the only course left to him. Home,friends, prosperity--all must go; and he must save himself by flight. But she would be with him, his dar- ling little bride, and the world and all its wealth would be well lost for her sake.But now, standing there, worn out and famished, with the windows of the room in which he had left her lying, suffering and unconscious, all dark and silent before his eyes, Throckmorton's heart sank within him, and an awful presentiment of evil settled down upon him like a pall. He felt convinced that something had happened.Having fastened his horse to the rack, he threw open the gate and strode up to the door. There were lights within, but dead silence reigned. He called, but no one answered. Then growing desperate, he mounted the stairs and made his way into the room where he had left her.There was the bed where she had lain, the pillows still bearing the impress of her golden head; a garment here, and some trifling object in another place spoke of her presence, but his bride was not there.Half wild with pain and passion, the desperate, disappointed man left the silent room, slamming the door after him, and, descending the stairs again, met Mrs. Fenwick in the hall. She looked white and frightened, and had a shawl over her head."What have you done with my wife?" Throckmorton demanded.The woman cowered and trembled before the fury in his eyes."Answer me," he thundered, seizing her by the shoulder. "Speak, quick, or I'll strangle you where you stand.""She went out for a walk on the river bank with her little maid, and they haven't come back."Throckmorton stood silent a moment, then he went leaping away through the darkness with the speed of a deer.At dawn of day he returned and dropped down on the threshold, breathless and fainting from sheer exhaustion, but Cap'n Frank had not been found.CHAPTER XXIV. A PAIR OF RUNAWAYS."Trix, what do you suppose we had better do?""I don't s'pose nuffin' 'tall 'bout it, Cap'n Frank. I's too tired an' hungry."The night was well advanced by this time, the stars were out by thousands, and a young moon hung like a silver sickle in the west.Cap'n Frank and her faithful little companion had walked quite a long distance that summer afternoon--a good many weary miles lay between them and the little cottage by the riverside.And now, quite worn out, and faint with hunger, they were sitting side by side on the trunk of a fallen tree, in a strange country, with a black sweep of pine woods on one hand, the restless river on the other, and before them the great. strange world where, friendless and alone, they were going out to seek their fortune.Looking back, as she sat there, with the darkness all about her, and the stars keeping watch overhead, it seemed to the unhappy girl that half a lifetime already intervened between her and the rash, reasonless act of the morning.The whole affair--her escape from the safe shelter of the old convent, and subsequent marriage to Dick Throckmorton--seemed like a wild, weird dream.She could not realize that it was true, irrevocable--beyond recall--that she was bound to this man for better or worse, by a bond that only death had power to break.She felt like one under the pressure of a terrible nightmare, from which there would presently be a glad awakening."What made me do it?" she had asked herself a score of times, and the thought of her husband--aye, the very word used in connection with his name filled her with horror.There was but one alternative--one resource--to run away from the awful mistake she had made.So, through all the sunny length of the bright June afternoon, she and Trix had been running away as fast as their feet could carry them; and now, worn out and half famished, they sat side by side on the trunk of the fallen tree."Cap'n Frank's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the forlorn little creature at her side."Poor Trix," she said, "it seems too bad to keep you here in these dark woods all night without anything to eat. I'm sure you're dreadful hungry.""Cou'se I is, Cap'n Frank; but ain't yoh hungry, too? I jes' reckin I kin stan' it ef yoh kin.""Yes, but it seems a sin for you to have to stand it, Trix, because, don't you see, I am to blame, and deserve to be punished, but you don't.""I don't see no diffunce," said the little negress, doggedly; "we bofe runned away, an' one jes' as much ter blame as t'other.""It is very nice of you to say so, Trix, she said, laying her hand on the child's shoulder as she spoke. "Very nice indeed, but that doesn't alter the case. You're not in fault at all, while I-- Well, I don't think I could possibly feel much wickeder than I do. However," she added philosophically, "what's done can't be undone, and all we can do is to make the best of it. The question now is, whether we shall remain where we are for the night, or proceed farther?""Stay whar we is, dat's what I says," groaned Trix; we jes' git los' an' t'ar our eyes out in de bresh ef we try ter go farder. I kin lay right down 'side dis log an' sleep like a top.""So can I." said Cap'n Frank promptly. "S'pose we say our prayers, "Trix, and turn in? I'm awfully tired, now I come to think of it.""I certainly does feel bettah," announced Trix, when they were comfortably disposed on the soft pine needles that covered the ground, "and 'pears like I ain't nigh so hungry as I wuz. Is you, Cap'n Frank ?""Well, I'm pretty hungry, "Trix, but I guess I can stand it till morning. We shall forget all about being hungry when we get to sleep.""Dat's so," assented Trix, evidently much consoled; "and 'twon't be de fus' time we ever slep' in de woods all night; will it, Cap'n Frank?""No, indeed; we started to seek our fortunes once before, Trix, and gave it up, but we're not going to do that way this time.""No'n, deed, we's gwine ter keep on dis time sho'. Good night, Cap'n Frank.""Good night, Trix. Shut your eyes now, and go to sleep."The little negress needed no second bidding; in a very few minutes she was sound asleep, but Cap'n Frank lay awake a long time watching the stars glimmering through the tossing branches of the pine trees, and thinking of all that had happened.Never, perhaps, in the course of her bright, butterfly life had the madcap thought so long and seriously before. But all at once she found herself face to face with stern reality, and began to realize how foolish and headstrong she had been.Ah! if she only had power to recall it all! and put herself back in her safe little room in the old convent! But that was impossible. The irrevocable had her in its unyielding grasp, and all she could do was to make the best of the situation in which her folly and disobedience had placed her.But she felt forlorn and friendless. Her sudden aversion to the man she had so foolishly married was growing into a sort of mania. The thought that she belonged to him, that he had a right to claim her, and hold her as his lawfully wedded wife, filled her soul with terror and horror, and she felt willing to abandon all she loved and fly to the ends of the earth if need be, in order to hide herself from him."I'll disguise myself, and change my name, and go where he'll never find me," she thought, as she lay there looking up at the stars. "The only trouble is, where shall we get money to defray our expenses: I might earn enough by playing for people, like the little Italian children do, if I only had my precious old violin. I wonder if I can't manage to get it somehow? I must have it; I will. There's no use in going to seek my fortune unless I've got my old Cremona; for, one of these days, I hope to be a great performer, and have the whole world at my feet. That has been my dream ever since I can remember. I hope it will be something more than a dream by and by. If I were great and admired, like the famous people we read of, I might go back to Beechcroft, and Uncle Jack would forgive me, and Tom--yes, Tom would be sorry enough that he ever turned his back on me for Louise De Lansac."With thoughts like these crowding through her mind, Cap'n Frank lay listening to the noisy babble of the river, until the young moon dropped out of sight behind the hills, and faint and far away came the sound front some distant belfry striking for midnight. But at last her fancies began to lose themselves in fitful dreams, her eyes closed, and the madcap fell asleep.It was broad daylight everywhere, and the son's golden disk was just visible above the dark line of the pine hills, when Cap'n Frank, lying with her head pillowed on her arm, and her bright curls blown all about her flushed face by the fresh breeze, was roused from that pleasant, half-conscious state between sleeping and waking by a touch on her shoulder."Great day in de mawnin' ! I's bin hearin' 'bout de babes in de woods eber sence I's bin bawn, and now I's done foun' 'em--an' 'fo de Lawd, one ob 'em's brack!"The fair sleeper roused up, and, raising herself to her elbow, stared at the speaker with a pair of wondering blue eyes.She was an old colored woman, of immense size, with a basket of water cresses on one arm, a bundle of pine fagots on the other, and a flaming bandanna turban perched high on her head."Hi, little missis," she said, after a moment, "what yo' doin' sleepin' onder de trees dis way, like a wild critter?--dat's what I want ter know!"Cap'n Frank was fairly awake by this time, and comprehended the situation."We're runaways, auntie," she replied, getting on her feet, and giving her crumpled garments a little shake, "and we hadn't any house to sleep in.""Runaways!" echoed the old woman. "What yo' talkin' 'bout, chile? Yo' ain't no nigger--an' niggers don't hab no need ter run away now, like dey used ter 'fo' de wah. What yo' runnin' 'way from, I'd like ter know?""Well, never mind about that now, auntie--we'll tell you all about it later," said the madcap. "You've got a home of your own, haven't you?""Sho', I is--yo' don't think I libs in de woods, does ye, missis ?""Oh, no, indeed, I don't think that. But won't you be good enough to take us home with you, auntie, and give us something to eat? We haven't had a morsel since early yesterday morning. Have we, Trix?""'Deed we ain't," answered Trix promptly, scrambling to her feet, "an' we's jes' 'bout starved ter deaf--'deed we is."The old auntie made an emphatic gesture."Great day in de mawnin'. Whoever heah de beat ob dat? Hi, you nigger"--turning fiercely upon poor Trix--"what yo' lay'n 'sleep like a lazybones fur, an' yo' missis starvin'? Why'n yo' skirmush roun' an' fin' somebuddy's house? Yo' moight a foun' my cab'n ef yo'd tried.""It wuz dark an' I's feered I'd scratch my eyes out in de bresh," whispered poor Trix."Don't scold her, auntie," said Cap'n Frank, "she's a good girl. I should have been afraid if she had left me, you know.""Well, I s'pose yo' would. Come 'long, chil'en, come right 'long; my cab'n ain't no ways beyant de hill yander. Yes'n 'deed, I kin gib yo' yer brekfus, an' a good one at dat. I done put de co'n pone on ter bake, an' lef' my ole man ter watch it, fo' I went out to cut de crosses, an' 'twon't tuk long ter fry de bacon an' aigs. Come 'long, chil'en.""Oh, Lawdy, but ain't I glad?" squeaked Trix, bounding in the air like a rubber ball, and then executing the first steps of a breakdown."What de matter wid yo', gal?" demanded the old woman, "lost yo' senses, ain't yo'?" "Neber had none ter lose," answered Trix promptly, "I's glad kase we gwine git somefin ter eat, dat's all.""Come 'long den," said the old negress, her ample form shaking with silent laughter, "de sooner we starts de sooner we git dar. Come long, little missis."They followed her through the pine forest and over the hill, and in a sunny valley, where the yellow broom sedge grew luxuriantly, and the mountain winds were unknown, stood a solitary cabin, with a low log chimney from which the smoke of blazing pine floated up in dense black wreaths.Cap'n Frank followed the old negress along the footpath that led to the cabin door, rejoicing, like little black Trix, at the prospect of getting a good breakfast.CHAPTER XXV. A SUDDEN FRIENDSHIP.The sound of a violin was borne to them on the breeze as they neared the cabin.'"Hi!" ejaculated the old woman, stopping short, and turning her bead in an attitude of listening; "I heah de fiddle a-gwine, so de gemman done copied. Fo' de Lawd," she added, with a good-natured laugh, "he beats all a-fiddlin' I ever see in my baun days. 'Pears ter me, he carn't tuk time ter eat."Cap'n Frank gave no heed to what the old woman was saying; she stood listening to the sound of the violin in a sort of rapt unconsciousness--the color fluttering in her cheeks, her blue eyes all alight, her breath coming in short, palpitating gasps."Trix," she whispered at last, "do you hear? That must be my old Cremona! Don't you think it is?"Then, "without waiting for an answer, she darted away like a bird on the wing.There was an immense wide-spreading apple tree in front of the cabin door, and on a rude bench under this tree the musician sat.A tall, shapely man, wearing a traveling suit of gray tweed and a slouch hat pulled low over his Saxon curls. His hands were shapely and supple; on the third finger of the left flashed an immense solitaire diamond; and the violin on which he played, with great ease and skill, was a genuine Stradivarius.He had been playing some difficult passages from Wagner, and all unconscious that he had a listener, drifted suddenly into the tripping measure of a Slavonic dance. A merry, breathless thing, that seemed to set the very trees to nodding in sympathy, and brought the old man from the cabin fire, where the corn pone was baking, to stand in the door and wag his grizzled head from side to side in silent enjoyment; while Trix, made blissfully oblivious of the pangs of hunger, went spinning and whirling through the yellow broom sedge like the craziest kind of a dervish.Cap'n Frank stood motionless, but for the excited throbbings of her bosom, until the performer drew his bow across the strings with a final crash, then she sprang forward and confronted him."Don't stop," she cried, "please don't. Oh, I haven't heard anything like that for so long. Play me one piece more--just one."The gentleman got on his feet and made a few steps backward, as he exclaimed:"Well, by Jove!"For a minute or two he was quite unable to make up his mind whether the dazzling young creature before him was human or not.But the madcap did not fancy being stared at The color deepened in her cheeks, and her blue eyes began to blare."Don't stare at me in that way, sir," she said; "I'm not dangerous, though I've Just come out of the woods. Are you going to play another piece, or not?" The gentlemen had quite recovered his self-control by this time.Certainly, if you wish it," he replied. "What shall I play?""Anything you like."He struck up again, wondering, as he launched into the intricacies of a brilliant sonata, where he had seen that sparkling face and those starry eyes before.The girl listened rapturously until he had finished, then she came nearer, and held out her hands for the violin."It is a fine instrument," she said; "but mine is better!""You have one, then?""Yes, a genuine old Cremona.""You seem to be a judge of violins," said the gentleman curiously."I know a good one when hear it.""You play, of course?""Yes, a little.""Will it be too great a liberty to ask yon to let me hear you?"The madcap shrugged her shoulders."Nonsense!" she replied, with a gay little laugh. "I was just going to ask you to let me play."She took the instrument, and raising it to her shoulder, turned her fair face away from the rising sun, and played as only those can whose souls are filled with inspiration.Arthur Dillwyn was intensely interested."What a strange, dazzling creature," he said to himself. "Where under the sun did she drop from? I must find out something more about her."And when the old negress took the girl into the cabin to give her the breakfast she had prepared, instead of going his way he sat down under the old apple tree, and waited patiently for them to reappear.Mr. Dillwyn was an Englishman, and heir prospective to a baronetcy.He had come over to America to look after a certain interest of his own, and owing to a combination of circumstances, for the past week or two he had made the Harvard House, in Rectortown, a little riverside village just below, his headquarters; and it happened that Aunt Delph, as she was called, who supplied the hotel table with wild fruits and fresh cresses, was his laundress, which fact accounts for his presence at her cabin home on the morning in question."Aunt Delph," he called softly, when the old woman's flaming turban appeared in the doorway, "come here for one moment, please. Do tell me who that pretty child is and where she comes from."The old negress shook her head."Carn't tell yo, mas'r, not ter save my life. I foun' her lyin' asleep onder de pine trees, ober de hill yonder, when I'd bin ter cut de cresses, an' fotch her an' de little black gal home wid me, an' dat's all I kin tell.""Asleep under the pine trees?" echoed the Englishman, "this grows interesting, by Jove! I must find out what it means." And he settled himself under the apple tree, determined if possible to see the girl again.He was not disappointed. She emerged from the cabin, in a very short time, looking wonderfully brightened up.Mr. Dillwyn looked at her a moment, and then leaped to his feet."I've got it, by Jove," he cried, quite forgetting himself in his excitement. "You might be Lady Sophronia's twin sister. I never saw such a likeness in my life.""Oh, well, never mind," said the madcap, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Only Lady Sophronia ought to feel complimented, I think. But I want to ask a favor of you, sir, if you'll allow me.""I am quite at your service, miss--I beg your pardon--my name is Dillwyn--Arthur Dillwyn, of Hampton Oaks, Shropshire, England.""I'm sorry I can't return the compliment, and di- vulge my own name," said the madcap promptly. "But that is out of the question at present. Call me--let's see--you may call me Miss Cremona, after my old fiddle. And now for the favor I'm going to ask. You look like a gentleman, sir; and auntie has been telling me that you come from abroad. I've been seized with a strong conviction that you can help me.""I shall be delighted to do so, I assure you.""Thanks! I hope you mean what you say. Now listen, We are runaways, little black Trix and I. We slept in the woods last night, as you've already been told. If we ever had a home and friends, we've left them forever. No, you needn't ask me why, I don't intend to tell you."She paused a moment, her eyes shining, the color of a wild rose in her cheeks, her golden hair curling in silken rings about her white brow.A lovelier, more bewitching creature the world did not hold.If Arthur Dillwyn had not been thoroughly and honestly in love with another woman, his heart would have been in danger.Even as it was, his pulses quickened, but he said very quietly:"Very well, Miss Cremona; go on!""That's sensible," she said, with a wise nod of her curly head. "The first moment I saw you, sir, I felt that you would be my friend, and I don't think I'm go- ing to be mistaken. Now, it is just this: I want to go abroad, and become a great performer on my old violin. That has been the dream of my life. Besides, there's a reason why I should go. To tell you the truth, sir, I've got a secret, and I'm running away from it. But I shall never succeed unless somebody will help me, and I've an impression that you are the right person.""So have I," said Dillwyn. "But see here, my child, we must get things right at the outset, or we shall both find ourselves in trouble before long. It would be a risky business, don't you see, for me to smuggle you out of the country? Your people would put the law on me.""But I've got no people.""No father or mother?""None! I belong to myself.""And your secret?""Never mind about that. I want to run away from it, that's all. Now, will you help me or not? I've money enough to pay my way over, and once in the old country, I shall manage to get along. I have made several voyages across the sea.""You?" cried Dillwyn incredulously."Yes. My father was a sea captain; but he's dead now."The Englishman was silent a moment, looking out across the surging waves of yellow broom sedge."I might manage it," he thought. "Georgiana would take charge of the girl if I asked her. But really, I don't know what to do.""Don't he afraid to refuse me if you wish to do so, sir," cried the madcap, her eyes flashing. "I'm no beggar, I want you to understand, and I shall manage somehow. On the whole, I'm sorry now I asked you. I dare say my impressions have led me astray. Pray excuse me for troubling you, and allow me to bid you good morning!""Good heavens! what a likeness," said the Englishman, as the girl turned away. "She is Lady Sophronia over again. I wish Georgiana could see her. By Jove! it is a queer affair; but I've half a mind to risk it. Where's the harm? If I don't take charge of the odd little thing, she may come to grief. By Jove, I'll do it anyhow. See here, Miss Cremona !"The madcap turned round."I've reconsidered the matter, and made up my mind to take charge of you.""I didn't think you could," she replied, looking at him with mischievous eyes. "People never refuse me what I ask them.""I don't wonder at that," said Dillwyn. "I shall send you to my sister; she's in New York. When can you be ready to go?"She reflected a moment, her pretty head set on one side."I must get my precious fiddle first; I can't go without that. This is Thursday; let's see, suppose we say Saturday? Yes, I can meet you in Rectortown on Saturday. Will that do?""Yes, that will do. I'll let my sister know, and you can go to her at once.""Trix, my black maid, goes with me, of course. We are inseparable.""Very well. By Jove! it is an odd affair, but I'll not fail you, Miss Cremona. Is there anything I can do for you at present?""Nothing whatever, thank you, sir.""Then allow me to bid you good morning.""Good morning, sir. I scarcely know how to thank you," she said, offering him her hand. "But I'll try to make it all up to you one of these days.""The pleasure of serving you will more than repay me," said Dillwyn gallantly, as he took the childish hand and raised it to his lips.Then the turned with his Stradivarius under his arm, and crossed the field to the open highway, crushing the yellow broom sedge beneath his rapid tread."I wonder if he'll keep his word?" thought Cap'n Frank, as she watched him out of sight.CHAPTER XXVI. AT THE MIDNIGHT HOUR.Three days of unavailing anguish and fruitless effort had gone by, and Tom Lynwold was again at Meadowside."I'll find her and tear her from that villain's arms if it costs me my life!" he had sworn in the first moments of his bitter pain.He had searched and traveled and scattered his money like sand, but all to no purpose. Cap'n Frank could not be found.The good sisters at the convent were quite distracted, but they were unable to throw any light on the mystery.The girl had left the schoolroom on Tuesday afternoon, just before the storm came on, and that was the last that had been seen or heard of her.How she had escaped from the grounds, or what had become of her, they were unable to tell.It was all plain enough to Tom.A remnant of the rope ladder dangling from the convent wall, and the marks of carriage wheels beyond, revealed the terrible story.Throckmorton had stolen the girl and carried her off."The murderous villain!" said Tom, his face white and his lips set. "Let him harm a hair of her head, and I'll have his life for it!"Then, notwithstanding his pain and despair, he went bravely to work. If it were possible to rescue the poor child, to save her from becoming Throckmorton's wife, it must be done.So he sent telegrams flying in all directions, and warned the police to be on the lookout, but all to no purpose.The first miserable day went by, and the shadows of evening fell, and no tidings of the fugitives had been heard."It is too late to save her now," said Tom. "He has made her his wife before this time, of course. Poor child, poor little madcap!"And then and there the loyal-hearted fellow gave up all thought and intention of preferring any charge or accusation against the man who had made such a brutal attempt to take his life.The secret of that morning on the river--that murderous attempt--must never be revealed.So Tom went his way in silence, for the sake of the girl he loved."I can bear it all," he said--"indeed, I can almost bring myself to forgive him, if he loves her as she deserves to be loved, and makes her happy. But let him cause her an hour's anguish--let him harm a hair of her head--and his worthless life shall pay the forfeit!"In the meantime, there was no end of excitement and perplexity at Throckmorton Hall. The master of the mansion was still absent, and every hour in the day brought new and exaggerated rumors concerning him.Captain St. Denys could have settled the whole business with a word. But, having had no orders from Throckmorton about divulging the secret of the latter's marriage, he very discreetly held his tongue."Let Throckmorton write and tell them himself, if he wants them to know," he said, "or Hartraft can find out. I don't feel called upon to explain matters myself. Besides, I'm not morally certain that Dick wasn't fibbing when he told me he'd married the girl." So he held his peace.Mrs. Throckmorton, cut to the heart at such conduct on the part of her only son, fell ill and took to her bed; and, as Gwendoline, just at that time, was intensely interested in an affair of her own, poor, pretty Rose was, obliged to look to Captain St. Denys for support and consolation, and the young man seemed quite willing to be wholly at her service.Matters were at this pass when, on a certain summer night, Tom, heartsick and quite worn out with fruitless effort, got back to Beechcroft.The major had been very ill, but his iron constitution would not yield, and he was slowly convalescing. He was aged, however, by this sudden and bitter blow."Tom, my poor fellow!" he said, as the young man entered the room where he sat, from day to day, in his armchair, "you've had no news, of course. I didn't suppose you would. I've given up all hope. I never took much stock, you know, in that story about Throckmorton. I don't believe Cap'n Frank cared for the fellow. I am sure now of what I feared at first. Tom, she's down there."And he nodded toward the window, through which the restless river was visible. Tom's lips grew a shade whiter, and he pressed his hand against his heart as if he found the pain there intolerable.Still the old man's words brought a faint ray of comfort to his despairing soul.It seemed less horrible by far to think of his little madcap sweetheart in the river, dead, with the seaweed in her golden hair, than as Dick Throckmorton's wife."I don't see how that could be," he replied, in the listless voice of utter despair."It is plain enough to me," insisted the major. "She escaped from the convent, and in trying to cross the river was drowned. You know there was a stray boat found."Tom had nothing to say--one way or the other there was no hope. So, after a little while, he got up restlessly and went downstairs.Mrs. Crawford came to him, as he lingered for a moment on the moonlit portico, and laid her white hand on his arm.The young man had never liked the major's second wife, and he found her presence almost intolerable."I have been waiting for you to come down," she said, speaking in a cautious voice. "There is something I feel it my duty to tell you, Mr. Lynwold. I dare not tell the major, but it is only just that you should know."She paused a moment, but Tom stood gloomy and silent, and she went on, her hand still on his arm:"It grieves me to see you wearing your life out for one who doesn't even deserve your pity," she said. "You take no rest day or night--you are killing yourself--and for what? Let me tell you what I know to be true. I have had letters, and they bring me news of the miserable girl who is the cause of all our trouble. She has gone with Throckmorton, but not as his wife!""You lie!" thundered Tom, turning on her furiously, his pale face quivering, his eyes blazing. "What you say is a base falsehood, and if you were a man, I'd lay you dead at my feet for having uttered it."Then, turning from her, he went out into the silent night.The stars were out, and there was a young moon in the west; but the poor fellow groped his way to the foot of a great beech tree, and sat down beneath it in the darkness.The poisoned arrow had entered his heart."Merciful Heaven!" he said, his lips white, and his voice husky; "haven't I suffered enough without that? But it is a lie--a false, slanderous lie! I'll never believe it."Then he sat silent, his head bowed down upon his hands, and his mind a blank.It seemed that his anguish had reached that point when apathy and semiunconsciousness come in to prevent madness.He lost sight of everything; the flow of the river did not reach his ears, or the cry of the whippoorwills in the thicket; the universe might have come to a sudden standstill for all he knew or cared.Thick darkness seemed to envelop him, and blazoned on that darkness in letters of fire those terrible words:"She has gone with Throckmorton, but not as his wife."All at once, in the midst of his stunned anguish, a sudden thrill shot through his veins like fire. He was conscious of something; he could not determine what. He had heard no sound, but he leaped to his feet and looked cautiously about him. The shadows were thick and black under the great beech tree; but out on the rear lawn the setting moon shed a faint, silvery reflection; and in it, clearly defined, like a pair of black silhouettes, Torn saw two moving figures.One was taller than the other, and both were draped in black, and they moved on cautiously but swiftly toward the rear porch.The young man stood and watched them with a strange feeling at his heart. The dogs were in their kennels; but one old stag hound came flying out with a hoarse salute, but a touch from the taller figure silenced him instantly, and he crouched, whining, and lashing his tail on the grass.Tom watched intently, wondering what it meant. The black figures moved on in silence until they reached the steps; then one stood still, while the other began to climb a huge grapevine that ran up to the roof, with the agility of a monkey.Tom stood, breathless and wondering, a moment, and then making up his mind that it was time to interfere, he went cautiously forward, and by keeping well in the shadow of the house, he succeeded in reaching the opposite end of the portico without being seen.The climber had reached an upper window by this time, and clinging to the strong vine, was in the act off raising the sash."Don't move!" cried Tom, in a ringing voice; "I'll fire on you if you do."There was a startled cry, a sudden pattering of light feet, and then a pair of frantic hands clutched his arm."Oh, Tom, Tom, for the love of Heaven, don't shoot! It is Trix. It is Trix!"Tom turned like a flash, caught the black-robed figure by the arm, and looked down at the white, terrified face, half hidden under a black hood. It was Cap'n Frank who stood beside him.CHAPTER XXVII. A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE."Cap'n Frank!" exclaimed Tom, after a moment of breathless amazement."Yes, yes," the girl replied impatiently; "but don't make a fuss over me, please, and rouse the house. I thought you were going to shoot. I want my old violin; Trix is going up to my room to get it. You won't prevent her, will you?"Tom caught his breath; the pain at his honest, loyal heart was almost more than he could hear."I don't know that I have any right to prevent her," he said, when he could command his voice. "But I can't understand why you are acting in this stealthy manner, Cap'n Frank.""Don't try to understand," she answered promptly. "There's no need that you should. My actions don't concern you. Go on, Trix. He's not going to shoot you. The little negress began to climb up the vine again, while Tom stood motionless and silent, too deeply wounded to utter a word.If the girl had thrust a keen dagger through his heart she could not have hurt him more. He did not dream that bitter, passionate jealousy was at the bottom of her apparent cruelty; that, even while she uttered the heartless words, it was all the poor girl--standing there in the shadow of her happy, old home, like a criminal and an outcast--could do to refrain from throwing herself into his sheltering arms, and begging him to help her, as in days gone by.Poor Tom, divining nothing of this, was cut to the heart; but in a little while he controlled himself."I don't think you mean that, Cap'n Frank," he said, laying his hand gently on her shoulder."Yes, I do!" she cried, shaking off his hand, as if its touch burned her. "I more than mean it. I don't wish you to concern yourself in the least about my affairs, so stand out of my way, please, and let me alone.""No, I can't do that. I am your friend, Cap'n Frank, and I can't forsake you, not even when you command me, now that you are in trouble," said Tom quietly."Who says I'm in trouble?" blazed the madcap."You can't be very happy, Cap'n Frank, when you come back to your old home like this. Oh, my dear child," he added, his voice thrilling with tenderness, "in days gone by whenever you got into trouble you came to me for help. Why can't you trust me now? I haven't changed, if you have."The girl shut her teeth hard together, and clenched her hands in her determination not to give way to her feelings."Oh yes, I know," she answered, with a mocking laugh. "We used to do a great many silly things in days gone by, but I am learning wisdom now. Besides, I don't happen to be in any trouble that I care to get out of just at present. And even if it were otherwise," she added, with cutting emphasis, "I really don't think you're equal to the task of looking after the interests of more than one young lady at the same time, so the better way will be to devote yourself exclusively to Louise De Lansac. I'm quite sure that you'll, find her more appreciative than I am."Tom looked intensely bewildered."I don't understand you," he said. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about.""Haven't you, really?" laughed the madcap, shrugging her shoulders. "That seems strange. But never mind, it doesn't signify in the least one way or the other. Trix, what on earth are you coming down for? You haven't got the violin.""Carn't git in," replied the little negress, as she scrambled to the ground ; "de winder done nailed down and won't rize up. I mos' bruk my fingers tryin' ter move it, but 'twa'n't no use."There were lights moving about in the room above, and Cap'n Frank's heart began to beat with terror."It is too bad," she said, "but it can't be helped. We must try some other plan, I suppose. Come, Trix, let's go now."She turned toward the woods with the startled mo- tion of sonic hunted wild creature, but Tom had his hand on her shoulder before she could escape. "Stop, Cap'n Frank," he said, "I can't let you go.""Can't let me go!" she repeated, turning on him with blazing eyes, "What have you got to do with it, I'd like to know ?""A great deal," answered Tom promptly. "I am your uncle's friend, as well as yours. He is terribly distressed about you. He has been very ill since you left, and is still confined in his room. In compliance with his wishes, I have been searching for you everywhere for the last week, and having found you at last, I can't let you go. If you are not wholly heartless, Cap'n Frank, you'll come with me to the house, and let your uncle see for himself that you are alive."In all his life Tom had never spoken with such stern frankness to the girl he loved, and his words struck home.The madcap dropped down at the foot of the tree beneath which they were standing, and covered her face with her hands."Poor Uncle Jack, she sobbed, "I've been nothing but a trouble to him from first to last. Oh, I wish I were dead. But I can't go back, Tom. No, no, I can't go back--never as long as I live. I've been too wicked. Uncle jack would never forgive me."A mad, frenzied, foolish thought flashed through Tom's overstrained brain, as he looked down at the girl, crouching and shuddering at his feet."Forgive you for what?" he demanded, his lips white, his eyes flaming, his breathing coming in gasps. "What have you done? Answer me."Cap'n Frank did not speak, and catching hold of her arm, he lifted her almost roughly to her feet."What have you done?" he repeated, in a terrible voice. "Look at me--let me see your face! I was told a few minutes ago that you had gone away with Throckmorton, but not as his wife! Tell me the story is false?"There was dead silence for a moment. Even little black Trix, standing in the rear, held her breath. And Tom listened to the sound of his own heartbeats.Then the madcap leaped to her feet. Her face shone ghastly white as she confronted her lover--her blue eyes flashed like steel."How dare you?" she panted, wrenching her arm free of his grasp. "How dare you, I say, ask me a question like that? Oh, you coward, if I only had a weapon I'd strike you dead at my feet. Don't touch me--don't speak to me--I'm done with you forever and ever. I hope never to see your face again. Follow me, Trix." And, with a sudden movement, she sprang away, and went flying down the hill with the speed of a lapwing, the little negress scudding after her."What have I done?" ejaculated Tom, standing stunned and trembling.If a cyclone had swept over him, or a thunderbolt exploded at his feet, the shock could not have been more painful.After one dazed, bewildered moment, he started in pursuit, calling as he ran "Cap'n Frank, forgive me, forgive me!"But there was no answer, and, although the poor fellow followed with mad haste, the madcap and her little companion had made their escape. There was no trace or sound of them in the open field or the dark wood beyond.What should he do? Call the dogs and hunt them down like a pair of fugitives, or keep watch until morning?The poor fellow wrung his hands in impotent pain and regret."Ali, what an imbecile I am! Why couldn't I have held my tongue? What possessed me to say such a horrible thing? I knew it was false--I'd swear it--but the girl drove me out of my senses. She'll never forgive me--never while the world stands! What am I going to do? To think," he added miserably, "that after all our worry and effort, she was here, at the very door, and I've driven her off again. I must find her, or I shall go mad!"So down the hill he went, crashing through the underbrush and tearing aside the bushes in his mad haste."Cap'n Frank! Cap'n Frank! for the love of Heaven, answer me."But there was no sound, and look where he would he could see no trace of the fugitive.As he neared the river, however, a ringing shout broke the silence:"Stop, I say; stop, and come back to shore; if you don't, I'll shoot.""Blaze away; nobody cares," answered a voice that Tom instantly recognized, and then followed the report of a pistol.He stood stock-still for a moment, almost paralyzed with terror, and then, recovering himself, went down the hill at a headlong rate.Another shout, followed by a second shot, rang out just as Tom reached the sands; and by the light of the western moon he saw a man standing at the water's edge, with a smoking revolver in his hand, and out upon the river a little boat, heading for the base of Mount Storm.He comprehended the situation at a glance; Cap'n Frank was in the boat, and the man was Throckmorton.Why the villain was firing on an unprotected girl in that way, Tom did not even stop to inquire. He had cleared the intervening space, and threw himself upon Throckmorton before the latter was even aware of his presence."You cowardly villain," he cried, seizing his enemy by the throat with one hand, while he wrenched the pistol from his grasp with the other. "What are you doing? Do you want to murder the poor girl?"When he recognized his assailant, Throckmorton's amazement was so great that for a moment or two his presence of mind quite deserted him, and that moment gave to Tom all he advantage he needed.Still keeping his deadly clutch on Throckmorton's throat, he jerked him backward with a sudden pull that almost deprived him of breath, and then threw him to the ground with stunning force."Now, you villain," he said, planting one knee firmly on the prostrate man's chest, and putting the revolver to his temple, "prepare to die. You fancied you had put me out of your way, but you failed to make a good job of it, you see.""I won't fail this time," gasped Throckmorton, struggling desperately to regain his feet.But Tom held him down with superhuman strength."Be quiet," he said, "or I'll put a bullet through your cowardly heart. Do you hear what I say? If you move again, you are a dead man."Throckmorton was no coward, but he did not care to throw away his life. Tom's knee was on his chest, and the cold steel of the revolver pressed hard against his right temple, and saw, by the white, set face and determined eye of the man who held his life in his hands, that he would show him no mercy. So he ceased to struggle, and lay sullenly quiet."Were you trying to murder Major Crawford's niece when you fired on her just now?" demanded Tom."She's my wife," replied Throckmorton, with a laugh. "I've a right to shoot at her if I like, haven't I?"Tom took no heed of the latter part of the sentence, he only heard those words--"she's my wife." For a moment his nerves relaxed and a sudden weakness came over him; but, controlling himself by a superhuman effort, he said:"Your wife? Don't lie to me, you scoundrel, as you value your life. Tell me the truth, or I'll put a bullet through your head.""She's my lawfully wedded wife," answered Throckmorton, his dark eyes gleaming with evil triumph. "I have the certificate to prove it here in my pocket. If you murder me, you'll murder Cap'n Frank's husband.""I should be doing her a good turn to rid her of such a husband," said Tom, struggling desperately for self-command. "But why did you shoot at her just now, you villain? Answer me! Ah, don't dare to move!"Throckmorton heard the quick click of the revolver, but his rage and humiliation had got beyond all bounds, so, heedless of the danger that menaced him, he made a desperate effort to gain his feet.Tom had the pistol leveled, and his finger on the trigger, but he could not fire."She's his wife," he said to himself, "and for her sake I must spare his life."So, after a moment's hesitation, he turned swiftly, and threw the revolver far out into the river. Then the two men closed in deadly conflict."I failed to make an end of you on the river that morning, but I'll do it this time," said Throckmorton, with a fiendish laugh.Tom made no reply, but, calling all the old athletic skill of his college days to his aid, he struggled desperately for his life.The conflict was terrible for a time; in dead silence the two men fought until their strength was quite exhausted, but neither the one nor the other would give up.Now Tom had the best of it, and again it was Throckmorton; but at last the latter's self-control gave way.Panting and furious, he rushed upon Tom, striking out blindly with both hands.Tom was not unprepared for the wild onslaught.He parried the frantic blows, and, in the same breath, with one well-aimed movement of his right hand, brought his antagonist down.The victory was complete. As he fell, Throckmorton's head came in contact with the root of a tree, and he rolled over on the sand like a log."I've settled him at last," said Tom, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, and making a mechanical attempt to put his torn garments in order. "I must go down the shore now after a boat, and hasten across the river in search of Cap'n Frank. I wonder when and how all this wretchedness will end?"CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MADCAP'S OATH.The little boat in which Cap'n Frank and her sable attendant had succeeded, in spite of Throckmorton's revolver, in slaking their escape, was rapidly nearing the western shore.The madcap handled the oars with great skill, and Trix was an adept in her way, also, so, between the two, there was no time lost."Ah," sighed the former, as they drew nearer to the shadow of the mountain, "what an escape we've had. Who had any dream of encountering Throckmorton, and armed with a revolver, too! Oh, what a wretch he is, and what a fool I've been! What made me marry him? Oh, Trix, Trix, what made me do such a wicked thing?""Bettah not stop ter talk 'bout dat now, Cap'n Frank," suggested Trix, "kase dar ain't no time ter lose. Fus' thing we knows dey'll be overtakin' us ef we don't make haste.""True enough," assented her mistress; "but it won't be long now before we make the shore, and when once our feet touch land, even if they do pursue us, we shall be able to give them the slip. I'll tell you what we'll do, Trix. We'll take the hut on the mountain on our way, and maybe that cross old woman can be induced to give us some breakfast, and tell us the nearest way to Rectortown. Don't you think it will be a good plan?"Trix gave the suggestion her approval, so the moment the boat touched the shore, the two jumped out and made their way up the mountain."What a tramp we've had," said the madcap, panting for breath, as the ascent became steeper and more rugged, "and all to no purpose. Oh, Trix, if we only could have got my precious old violin, I shouldn't have cared for anything else.""But how could we an' de winder nailed down? Didn't I silos' bruk my fingers tryin' ter make it riz, an' it wouldn't budge?""Yes, yes, I'm not blaming you, Trix, but it breaks my heart to leave it behind. I don't see how I shall ever live without it.""Mebbe de major or Mas'r Tom mought send it ter ye, if ye'd writ an' ax 'em," suggested Trix.The madcap's cheeks flushed, and her eyes shot lightning, as she recalled the circumstances under which she and Tom had parted."I shall never ask him," she said to herself. "I'm done with him forever." The way was steep and rugged, and our two fugitives were too thoroughly worn out to walk fast, so the dawn was breaking, and the stars were fading from the sky, when they came, at last, in sight of the mountain hut."There's a light within," said Cap'n Frank. "The witch must be an early riser. I hope she'll let us have something to eat; I'm dreadfully hungry.""So's me, Cap'n Frank, drefful' hungry, an' jes' tired 'nuff ter nap. Is ye gwine ter knock at de do'?"They rapped twice, and a feeble voice called faintly: "Come in!"So they pulled the string that lifted the latch, pushed open the door, and entered.It was a forlorn-looking place. The floor was strewn with all sorts of litter, the white ashes of a fire, long since extinct, covered the hearth, and in one corner crouched a gaunt, half-famished cat.At first both Trix and her mistress thought there was no one in the comfortless room; but glancing sharply about, they caught sight of a door leading into a small shed, in which stood a low bed, and on it, covered from sight by a tattered quilt, was the figure of a woman."Thar she is," whispered Trix, pointing with her finger, her eyes dilating and her face paling to a grayish white; "and, oh, she's dead!"Cap'n Frank retreated with a startled cry, which caused the woman to open her eyes and lift one skinny hand."Come here, she whispered, in a husky voice; and then, as she caught sight of Cap'n Frank's face by the dim light of the waning lamp, she uttered a wild, screeching cry; and raising herself on her elbow, glared at the terrified girl with wide, amazed eyes."There she is," she cried out. "That's her. And I that minnit a-thinkin' about her. Come here, gal, come here!"Cap'n Frank was awfully frightened, but she advanced slowly toward the bed."Come closer," said the woman, beckoning with her skinny hand. "I've been a-wishin' fur ye all night long, an' you've come. Why don't you come nearer? I ain't goin' to hurt ye."Cap'n Frank drew nearer with trembling steps. "What do you want?" she asked."Set down thar, and ye shall hear."The madcap dropped down into an old split-bottomed chair, and waited for what was coming."You remember that mornin' when you an' the little black gal run away and came here, don't you? Well, you made me mad, and I told ye I'd hold my tongue, and never tell ye the secret I've known for so many years. Don't ye remember?""Oh, yes, I remember.""How scart ye are!" the old woman cried. "We're all of a tremble from head to foot. Don't be a fool--I ain't goin' ter harm ye.""I'm not afraid, said Cap'n Frank. "Let me hear what it is you've got to tell me.""Show me the old locket first, the one you had that day."After a moment's hesitation, the girl drew the old trinket from her bosom and held it up before the dying woman's eyes."That's it! that's it!" she cried. "I knowed it the minnit I put my eyes on it. Let me stake it in my hand. Don't be afeard. I ain't goin' ter hurt it."The madcap went close to the bedside, and bending over the old woman, suffered her to take the locket in her hand."Yes, yes; I see, I see! 'Tis the same old trinket. Child, I've seen it many a time, long before you was ever born. It belonged to your mother, you say?""Yes, it belonged to my mother.""Well, take keer of it--mind what I say--take keer o' the old trinket. It'll tell you a secret one o' these days.""Can't you tell me the secret now?" demanded Cap'n Frank.The old hag broke out into screeching laughter."Tell ye now? No, indeed; ye must wait till the time comes--ye'll know all about it then. D'ye see that little brown box in the corner yonder? Well, fetch it here, and look on the shelf yonder, in that yaller mug, and you'll find the key. Ah, that's it. Now unlock the box, and see what you'll find. Don't be afeard."Cap'n Frank unlocked the box, and, after rummaging amid some odds and ends, found a package sealed with blotches of red wax."That's it!" screeched the old woman--"that's it! Look on the back now, and see what it says."The girl held the package up to the light, and beheld, written in faded characters, the following words:"To be given to Tom Crawford's daughter on her twenty-first birthday.""Tom Crawford's daughter," she repeated. "Why, that must mean me.""That's jest who it means. You are Tom Crawford's daughter, and I've been keepin' that package for, ye ever sence the day and hour your mother died."The madcap found no words with which to answer. She stood stunned and silent a moment or two, and then her nervous fingers wandered to the heavy red seals."I must see what it contains," she said. But the old woman gave utterance to a warning screech."No, no, don't touch the seals--don't tech the seals; they're not to be broken till ye're one and twenty; that's the understanding.""It is a very silly understanding, then. Why should we pay any attention to it?""Because it was your dead mother's wish. She told me on her dying bed that you weren't to break the seals until you're one and twenty. Promise me you won't. Hand me that Bible from the mantel yonder. Now, put your hand on it--your right hand--that's it! Now swear!" Repeat the oath after me. Do you hear?""I am ready," answered the girl, impelled by some mysterious influence, over which she had no control. So the Witch of the Mountain, as she was called, repeated the oath, and she repeated it after her."I promise and take oath not to break the seal of this package until I am twenty-one years old."CHAPTER XXIX. MEETING AN OLD ENEMY.The dawn was merging into broad daylight by this time, and the first golden rays streaming through the chinks between the logs, revealed the ghastly pallor of the woman's face.Cap'n Frank started back with a cry of horror. "You are ill, dying," she said. "What can I do for you? "The old creature shook her gray head."Nothing my race is run--and now I've seen you, and giv' ye the package, my work's done. Ye'll not open it--ye'll keep your oath?""Yes, I shall keep it," answered the girl solemnly."Well, there's one thing more I want to tell ye, and then I'm done. It is to warn ye agin' the master o' Throckmorton Hall. I know him, an' when I went down to sell my berries, I've heerd his name coupled wi' yourn. But have naught to do with him. You're a purty lass, an' kin have your pick o' a husband from the best, but take my advice, and have naught to do wi' the master o' Throckmorton Hall.""Why, what do you know of him? What has he done?" questioned Cap'n Frank curiously."He's a murderer--his hands are red wi' blood, to begin with.""A murderer! Merciful Heaven!""Yes, a murderer! I saw him strike Tom Lynwold down wi' my own eyes; they were on the river together, an' me an' my son Jake was a-lyin' in the shadder o' the mountain, an' we both witnessed the murder, for murder Throckmorton intended it should be. We saw him take the boat hook an' strike Torn Lynwold on the head, and then tumble the poor feller over in the water; an' that would ha' been the end o' it, if it hadn't been for Jake. He could swim like a fish, wi' all but his eyes under water, so out he goes, and in less'n no time he'd saved Lynwold's life. We got the poor fetter in the boat, and fetched him here; an' after so long a time he got on his feet ag'in, but to this day he don't know how it all happened, or who saved his life. I wouldn't tell him, ye see, because I feared it might git Jake in trouble wi' Throckmorton. But Jake's dead now, an' in his grave, and so I'm glad to have a chance to warn ye agin' Throckmorton. He's a bad man, and you're a purty lass, as kin git your pick o' the best for a husband, so take my advice, and have naught to do wi' Throckmorton.""Are you telling me the truth?" asked Cap'n Frank, her lips quivering, and her eyes wide with horror."'Tain't likely as I'd tell ye a lie wi' my dying breath," said the old woman.Her voice failed then, and she fell back, panting for breath.Cap'n Frank moistened her lips with water, and raised her head; but the old creature's strength was quite spent, and in a little while she was dead.Neither Trix nor her mistress had ever before been in the awful presence of death, and they looked at each other in silent consternation."What shall we do?" they said to each other. "Somebody must be told."Then, moved by one impulse, they opened the door, and looked out into the misty splendor of the mountain dawn.The winding trail, leading up front the shore, was clearly visible in the morning light, and pounding along at a telling pace came a solitary horseman, scarcely a quarter of a mile away.Cap'n Frank caught sight of him, and her blue eyes dilated with terror. "Look, look, Trix !" she cried. "It is Throckmorton in pursuit of us. If he captures me I shall die--I shall die. Oh, for the love of Heaven, let's go!" In another breath of time they had taken their last look at the silent figure on the low bed, and closing the door softly, they hurried away.The suit was an hour high, perhaps, when they struck the mountain road a mile or so below. A countryman was sitting by the wayside, enjoying his morning meal, while his horses munched their feed of oats beneath the shade of a neighboring tree.Cap'n Frank took courage and approached him."We are anxious to get to Rectortown," she said. "Will you be kind enough to tell us the shortest way?""Rectortown?" cried the man. "Oh, good gracious, it's a good six or eight mile by the mountain road. I'm bound for the same place myself. If you don't mind tumblin' in atop of the grass," he added, "I'll give you a lift."They were glad enough to accept this friendly offer, so they tumbled in and, after a tedious and somewhat tiresome drive, they reached their destination.The sun was high in the sky, and the streets were dusty and hot, and when the obliging countryman had put her out, Cap'n Frank, with little Trix trotting on behind her, walked up and down and this way and that, hoping to catch sight of Arthur Dillwyn, her newfound friend.But he was nowhere to be seen, and feeling somewhat downhearted and exceedingly hungry, the two fugitives made up their minds that it would be necessary to invest a part, at least, of their scant funds in a good, square meal."We shall feel more like ourselves, Trix," said the madcap, "when we've had something to eat. For my own part, I'm almost famished. So, first of all, we'll go to the Howard House and get our breakfasts. After that, perhaps, we may succeed in finding 'Mr. Dillwyn."Accordingly, toward the Howard House they bent their steps, and a young lady, prettily attired in a becoming mourning robe, stood on the front portico, and watched their approach.They presented a rather pitiful appearance, their garments being somewhat the worse for wear, and their general appearance travel worn; but the young lady's face flashed with surprised recognition, and she ran down to meet and welcome them as they drew near the steps."Why, my dear child," she cried. "Can it be possible, or do my eyes deceive me? I'm not mistaken it must be Cap'n Frank!"The startled girl looked up, with a thrill of amazement, which deepened into positive terror when she saw and recognized the young lady's face. She was Cleo De Lansac.For a minute, perhaps, the two confronted each other, and by that time the madcap had made up her mind to face the music."Yes, I am Cap'n Frank," she replied, with what self-conmmand she could call up. "How do you do, Miss De Lansac ?""Oh, I'm ever so well! but don't stand there in that broiling sun. Come right in and let's have a comfortable chat. You didn't expect to see me here, did you? But I shall be so delighted to hear from Beechcroft. And, my dear, I'm dying to know what brings you here.""I came here to meet a friend," the madcap replied, as she ascended the steps. "I'm going on a journey.Cleo's radiant face darkened, and her gray eyes began to gleam."A friend?" she repeated. "You refer to Mr. Throckmorton, I suppose?"Cap'n Frank shrugged her shoulders, as she turned away."Oh, it doesn't signify, Miss De Lansac," she said carelessly; "besides, I'm too nearly famished to talk just at present. Come, Trix, let's go and hunt for something to eat."But Cleo had no notion of being put off in this way. She followed the girl, and laid her hand on her arm."Let me order your breakfast for you," she said. "And while they are getting it ready come to my room, and brighten yourself up a little. Trix can go down to the kitchen. You stand sorely in need of a bath, and fresh cuffs and collar. And, besides, I've something of importance to say to you.'Cap'n Frank hesitated a moment, and then followed the young lady upstairs."It seems quite providential that you should have come here," she went on. "I was thinking only last night of writing you a letter, only I couldn't imagine show to address it.""Writing me a letter?" cried Cap'n Frank, in surprise. "Why, what had you to write about?""Listen, and you shall hear. I've been hearing all sorts of rumors--from Beechcroft, of course. They told me you had left the convent, and eloped with Dick Throckmorton. Was there any truth in the story?"A slight flush arose to the madcap's cheeks, but she answered promptly:"If I had eloped with Throckmorton, I shouldn't be here this morning.""True enough," said Cleo. "And you don't know how glad I am to see you here. The fact is, my dear, I happen to know a good deal about Mr. Throckmorton's character, and you don't. I met him when I was abroad quite a number of years ago, and I know that he belongs to another woman."Cap'n Frank's heart gave a mad leap, but she controlled herself with a strong hand."Mr. Throckmorton is nothing to me," she said; "why should we talk of him? I would much prefer to have my breakfast.""That will come in good time. But we might as well get through with Throckmorton while we are about it," Miss De Lansac continued, her gray eyes gleaming with a revengeful light. "I know the man so well, and the stories I've heard troubled me a great deal. They told me you had eloped with Throckmorton, and I knew he would never make you his wife.""I didn't want to be his wife," retorted Cap'n Frank. "So you might have spared yourself all uneasiness.""That's very sensible on your part, my dear," the young lady went on, "and relieves my mind of quite a weight of anxiety. I was so afraid that Throckmorton might lead you astray with false promises. He is an exceedingly charming person, when he cares to be so, and girls of your age are so apt to be susceptible. But as I have said, there is another woman who has claims on him--and besides, he never would have married you, knowing your secret, as I suppose he does."Cap'n Frank's heart gave a mad leap, and she thought of the old package, with its heavy seals, which she had sworn not to break until she was one and twenty years old."What secret?" she demanded."Why, the secret of your birth, of course," answered Cleo promptly. "You don't pretend to tell me you never heard it?""Yes, I pretend to tell you that very thing. I've never heard it."Cap'n Frank spoke with light indifference, but at the same time every nerve in her body was quivering with intense excitement."I can scarcely believe what you say, replied Miss De Lansac coolly. "However, sit down and you shall hear the secret now. You are not Captain Tom Crawford's daughter."And then Cleo told the whole story.CHAPTER XXX. THE SECRET.The revelation struck the girl down like a cruel blow. Not Captain Tom Crawford's daughter? Not Uncle Jack's own little girl? An alien, an outcast, a nameless waif, nobody's child!She couldn't believe it--she wouldn't--it was too cruel."It may be hard to realize, but it is true, nevertheless," said Miss De Lansac, the fire of triumphant revenge in her pitiless eyes. "I have known it ever so long, and so has mamma. Your uncle told her the story very soon after their marriage. Haven't you ever had a hint of the truth yourself?"Cap'n Frank considered, going back over all the bright years of her happy life, and a certain day stood out from all other days, marked by a little episode she had never been able to forget.Uncle Jack had fallen ill, dropped down all in a moment, and for hours his life was despaired of. Tom was at his bedside, of course, and Cap'n Frank hidden behind the drapery of the old-fashioned bed, and crying fit to break her heart, heard the old man say:"Tom, my dear fellow, I shouldn't wonder if I have to hand in my checks this time; and if I do, the little one will have nobody but you. Take care of the poor little madcap, Tom, and keep that confounded secret from her."The old gentleman recovered, however, and some time after Cap'n Frank went to him for an explanation."What is it about a secret, Uncle Jack?" she said. "If there's really one, and it concerns me, I've a right to know what it is.""Tut, tut," said the major, "don't ask foolish questions, my dear. If I said anything about a secret, I was dreaming, that's all."Cap'n Frank knew better; she felt that they were concealing something from her. But her uncle became impatient, and forbade her ever to mention the matter again, so the subject was dropped.She recalled the circumstances now, with a sense of terrible despair.The story Miss De Lansac had just told her was all true--there was no denying it. She was not Tom Crawford's daughter--not Major Crawford's niece--but a miserable waif, to whom, in their generous pity, they had given the shelter of their name and love.This was only surmise on Cap'n Frank's part, but it was all true, nevertheless.There was a secret attached to her birth which had happened after this wise Captain Crawford, or Tom Crawford, as he was known, fell ill in London, when his first-born child, a lovely little girl, was scarcely a month old. His illness turned out to be serious, and for some time his life was despaired of. His young wife, who loved him too idolatry, was quite beside herself, and, in her solicitude for her husband, scarcely had a thought for her balm. The child, in consequence, was cross and fretful, and the nurse, who had charge of it, in order to save herself worry and trouble, gave the little creature a strong opiate, from the effects of which it died.She was terribly frightened, of course, and in order to escape the punishment which she supposed her crime would bring upon her, determined to keep the whole thing a secret, and to replace the child.The idea, in a clever woman's hand, was not hard to carry out.Mrs. Crawford, in her devotion to her husband, failed even to see her infant for days at a time, so it was easy to slip away the dead baby under cover of darkness, and to bring a living child back in its stead.This the nurse did, but where and how she obtained the child no one knew.All babies of a certain age look a good deal alike; nevertheless, there is such a thing as maternal instinct; and when at last, her husband being somewhat better, Mrs. Crawford bethought herself of her infant, and went to the nurse's room to look after its welfare, a startling scene ensued.The babe, lying in the wicker crib, looked about as much like the one that had lain there two days previous as one rosebud looks like another; but the young another declared at once that the child was not her own.The nurse contradicted her, and for a while there was quite an uproar; but in the end the lady carried her point, and the guilty woman, finding herself pushed to the wall, was forced to confess the truth.She made a clean breast of it, so to speak, assuring Mrs. Crawford that she had practiced the deception because she feared, if the truth were known, the shock of the infant's untimely death might prove disastrous to the father.This was wisely chosen logic, and produced the desired effect upon the young wife.After some little hesitation, she determined to submit to the fraud, and, rather than risk her husband's life, or even retard his recovery, to accept and acknowledge the little stranger as her own babe.Who the child's parents were, or how she had got possession of the little thing, the nurse refused to tell, and thus matters rested for about three years.Tom Crawford was a seafaring man, and, as a general thing, his wife and child accompanied him, making a little stay first in one port and then in another; and it happened that, at the expiration of three years, they were in London again, and Mrs. Crawford was on her deathbed.She had kept her secret well--her husband had never had a hint of the truth, and could scarcely have been brought to believe that the little curly-headed girl he fairly idolized was not his own child.His wife had no thought of undeceiving him--she would have died rather than cause him an hour's pain; but the secret had embittered her life, and weighed so heavily on her heart and conscience, that, as the hour of death drew near, she felt that she must make sonic sort of atonement or reparation.So she caused her former nurse to be summoned to her bedside, and by bribes and entreaties induced her to divulge the secret of the child's real parentage. Then, between them, they prepared a statement of all the facts in the case, which was securely sealed, and addressed to Tom Crawford's daughter, but not to be opened until her twenty-first birthday.This package was entrusted to the nurse, who pledged herself to the dying woman in the most solemn manner, that she would see that it was delivered to the child at the specified time, or in case of her own death, to leave it as a sacred trust to somebody else.The old locket and the Cremona violin, which, according to the statement of the nurse, belonged to the child, were left in Major Crawford's hands at her supposed mother's death.Tom Crawford went to his grave in the sea that had been his home, happy in the belief that the gallant girl who had shared the perils and hardships of his wandering life was his own dear child.Later on the major made a confidant of Tom Lynwold, but the young man was inclined to discredit the story.It was a vagary, he thought, of the dying woman's mind.So the matter rested, and everything went well until the old gentleman's second marriage.The wisest men lose their heads now and then, especially when under the influence of an unscrupulous woman.The major's second wife was a sort of vampire in her way, and she had not been the unsuspecting old gentleman's bride a week, when, among other confidences, he intrusted her with Cap'n Frank's secret. He learned wisdom later on, but the mischief was done.From her mother Miss De Lansac had heard the story; and now, with a good deal of added bitterness, it had come to Cap'n Frank's ears.The blow was as sharp as it was unexpected. The girl had been so devoted to her father, so fond of Uncle Jack; and, after all, she had no claim on either. She was simply nobody's child."I thought it was my duty to tell you just how matters stand," said Miss De Lansac sweetly. "It would grieve me, of course, to see you come to any sort of harm, though we've never been very great friends. And I am sure that, under existing circumstances, Mr. Throckmorton hasn't the faintest intention of making his wife."Cap'n Frank winced as if from a dagger thrust, and Cleo went on with kindling eyes.Having no suspicion that Cap'n Frank was already married to Throckmorton, and trying to escape from him, she imagined she was taking a glorious revenge on the unhappy girl."I know Mr. Throckmorton," she repeated, "and you don't. So you'll do well to heed my warning. A girl, situated as you are, can't be too careful." Cap'n Frank arose to her feet."I don't expect ever to see Mr. Throckmorton again," she said, "so why should we waste breath in talking about him?""Oh, well, forewarned is forearmed, you know," smiled Cleo. "You'll know what to do if he ever crosses your path again. And speaking of this," she added, "reminds me of Tom Lynwold. Were you ever engaged to him, Cap'n Frank?""I don't see that it concerns you whether I ever was or not," answered the madcap promptly, her eyes beginning to blaze."But it does concern me, my dear," the young lady insisted, "and I'll tell you why. I had a letter from my sister Louise this morning, and she tells me that Mr. Lynwold has proposed, and she has accepted him, and it is only natural, you see, that I should feel anxious to find out whether or not he's the right sort of fellow."Not even under this final stroke did the madcap's wonderful self-command give way."Oh, if that is the case," she answered, with well-assumed indifference, "I feel bound to speak the truth. No, I've never been engaged to Tom Lynwold. He and I have always been good friends, nothing more."At this moment there came a sharp rap at the door, and the next instant Trix appeared."Ye ain't gwine ter stay heah all day, is ye, Cap'n Frank?" she demanded. "I's done foun' de gem'man as wnz ter meet us, an' he wants ye ter,come 'long right 'way."The madcap turned to Miss De Lansac as she left the room."I'm going to ask a favor of you," she said. "Will you do me the kindness not to mention that you've seen me here? I'd prefer they should be kept in ignorance of my movements at Beechcroft.""Of course, I won't mention it if you say so," answered Cleo readily. "If you are really going, I wish you well."She held out her fair hand as she spoke, but Cap'n Frank put both of hers behind her."No. I'd rather not shake hands with you, Miss De Lansac," she said, and walked out of the room without a backward glance.CHAPTER XXXI. THE ENGLISHMAN'S BRIDE.Cap'n Frank had been with Arthur Dillwyn's sister, in the city of New York, just two weeks, and the lady had got to be very fond of the pretty madcap.She was a haughty woman, the wife of a distinguished English barrister, and a leader of fashion in London, and when her brother wrote to her from some unknown quarter, where certain mysterious interests of his own were detaining him, that it was his intention to send her a protegee by the next day's train, or, in other words, a young girl whom he very much desired she should at once 'take under her protection, the lady was both surprised and shocked.What under the sun was Arthur Dillwyn thinking about, she wondered. An American girl as a protégée, indeed! Some artful creature, no doubt, who had imposed upon her brother's good nature.But Mrs. Georgiana Herbert was not the sort of woman to be taken in by anybody, least of all by an American adventuress, so she made tip her mind at once to send the young person back to her own people without an hour's delay.But alas for the stability of human resolutions! Even Mrs. Georgiana Herbert found herself as un- stable as water, when once she had looked upon the madcap's face. She sent her waiting woman to meet the train, and her brother's charge was duly escorted to the lady's hotel and conducted into her august presence.A little slip of a girl, with a short crop of sunny curls clustering about a broad, white forehead--a pale, tired face, blue eyes that could flash lightning on the slightest provocation, and a rosebud mouth just like a baby's. That was Cap'n Frank."The haughty English matron looked at her and felt her heart melting in her bosom.She wondered no longer at her brother's interest in the pretty child. Dismissing her servant, she began to question the girl."My dear child, have you no home of your own, or friends that care for you?""I had once," Cap'n Frank answered promptly, a quiver of pain in her sweet voice. "But they are mine no longer.""May I ask why?" the lady continued."I've been deceived and kept ill the dark," replied the madcap. "I fancied I had a father and mother like other people, but I was mistaken. I'm nobody's child."The tears rushed to Mrs. Herbert's eyes."Nobody's child? Why, you poor little thing! And how, pray, did my brother find you?"Cap'n Frank considered a moment, and then, with characteristic frankness and honesty, determined to make a clean breast of it."I've got a secret," she replied. "I may as well tell you about it first as last; it is an ugly secret, and I was trying to run away from it when your brother found me.""Did you tell my brother what your secret is ?" the lady inquired."No," the madcap answered, "I shall never tell any one that as long as I live. I told Mr. Dillwyn I had a secret, and wanted to run away. He made up his mind to trust me, and sent me here. He was very kind to me," she added, her eyes filling with tears. "I've got an old violin, a genuine Cremona, but I failed to get possession of it. In order to comfort me, he let me have his Stradivarius, and I've brought it with me, as you see.""That was very kind of Mr. Dillwyn," said the lady; "And I suppose," she added, with a slight laugh, "you are expecting me to be quite as kind to you?"The madcap lifted her eyes, and gave Mrs. Herbert a long look."I don't think you could be very unkind if you tried," she said, with pretty boldness. "But I am neither asking nor expecting anything at your hands. Your brother sent me to you, and here I am. It remains with you, madam, to say whether I am to go or stay.""You're to stay, of course," said the lady. "You're a witch. You've bewitched my brother, and now you're trying your arts on me. Yes, I've made up my mind to take you on trust. And what am I to call you, my pretty child? You haven't told your name yet.""How can nobody's child have a name, madam? You can call me what your brother does, Cremona, after my dear old violin."Mrs. Herbert was both puzzled and fascinated."Well, really?" she said. "So you didn't tell Mr. Dillwyn your real name?""No, that goes with my secret. I shall never divulge either.""Well, you quite take away my breath," said the lady. "But have it your own way. Cremona it shall be--Cremona Herbert, if you like. I'll take you on trust, as I said just now, and if I find that you have not deceived me, you shall be to me as my own child.""Do I look like a girl who would be likely to deceive people and tell falsehoods?" demanded the madcap fearlessly."No, my dear, you don't," answered Mrs. Herbert promptly; and moved by an irresistible impulse, she took the girl in her arms and kissed her.And now, when two weeks had gone by, it seemed to the proud English lady, who had never been blessed with children of her own, that if her little waif were taken from her life would be a blank.Cap'n Frank had made herself irresistible--she was friend, companion, and dainty lady's maid all combined.You must let me make myself useful," she insisted, and Mrs. Herbert, to her intense amazement, found the pretty child quite as much of an adept in preparing a cup of chocolate, mending her ladyship's laces, assisting at her toilet, when she desired to appear unusually well, as she was at chattering in French and German and playing on the old Stradivarius. And then, arrayed in the pretty dresses with which her new friend speedily supplied her, no peri out of paradise could have looked more divine."I don't wonder that Arthur takes an interest in the child," said the stately lady. "There isn't another creature like her in the universe--such beauty--such vivacity--such fearless integrity--and so wondrously gifted-and as much like Lady Saphronia Howard as if she were her own daughter! What a sensation she'll make when I present her to the London world! Why, she'll marry a title before her first season's over--and only to think, I don't know one word about her--not even her name!"One morning, when Cremona, as she was now called, had got through with practicing her new music, of which she had piles, thanks to her new friend's generosity, she went up to Mrs. Herbert's room, and to her amazement found the lady in tears."My dear Cremona," she cried, "I am in such trouble --do come here, and let me tell you all about it! I've just received a message from, my brother--""Is he ill?" put in Cap'n Frank breathlessly."No, my dear, it is worse than that," replied the lady, putting her handkerchief to her eyes again. "He's married--Arthur Dillwyn, heir at law to the Sutgard baronetcy, has eloped with an American girl, and in a little while they'll be here! Oh, it is dreadful!--dreadful!"Cap'n Frank threw back her head and laughed until the room rang."I see nothing dreadful about it," she cried. "Nothing to cry about, Mrs. Herbert. But I thought Mr. Dillwyn was already married.""Oh, you did! I suppose you would have been falling in love with him yourself but for that? Well, he's married now--really married, and on his way here with his wife. Now, what do you suppose we're going to do?""Wish him joy when he gets here, of course--what else is there to do?""How intensely American that is, my dear Cremona," said the lady pettishly."Isn't it philosophical as well?" Cap'n Frank retorted. "What's done can't be undone, no ratter how cross you may be.""True enough. My dear, how did you come by such a sage head on your young shoulders?""Experience teaches knowledge," quoted the madcap promptly.Mrs. Herbert laughed."A deal of experience you've had in your short life," she said. "You can't be a day over seventeen.""I was eighteen my last birthday, madam. I've crossed the ocean a round dozen times, and my experience is something too terrible to speak of. But apropos of poor little me, what's to be done about the married couple?""I suppose I must take your advice, and make the best of it--what else can be done?""Nothing that would not be productive of trouble to all concerned. Do you know the lady Mr. Dillwyn has married, Mrs. Herbert?""I know of her. She was in England a year or so ago, and created quite a sensation in London society. My brother fell in love with her the night she was presented at the queen's drawing-room. I wasn't there myself, but my friends told me she was exceedingly beautiful.""Why do you find fault with your brother for marrying her, then ?""Well, I'll tell you. The girl unluckily has a brother who must be something of a brigand, from what I've heard of him. He made trouble between Arthur and his sister while they were in Paris last winter, and the engagement was broken off. Later on, Arthur found out that the fellow was playing a false game with the daughter of an old nurse of ours--a simple, innocent young thing. He, Arthur, I mean, interfered, and that brought matters to a climax. The ruffian challenged him to fight a duel, and they actually met, and exchanged several shots, without inflicting any injury on each other, however."This affair, as we supposed, put an end to all thoughts of marriage between the two. When Arthur coaxed me to visit America with him some weeks ago, I did not dreeam that he had this same girl in view."But they have been carrying on a secret correspondence all the time, it seems. When Arthur left me here last week, pretending he was going off on a deer hunt, he went after the girl instead. Yesterday she stole away from her people, met him somewhere, and he married her. Now, isn't it shocking?""I think it is just charming," the madcap replied. "And I like Mr. Dillwyn better than ever. I just tell you, Mrs. Herbert, you can do as you please, but for my own part, I intend to give them a rousing welcome."Oh, you untutored little savage!" the lady cried; "how dare you run against me in that way? I shall have to punish you like a naughty child before long."But Mrs. Herbert looked in no wise displeased, and instead of punishment she drew the girl to her side and embraced her tenderly."You're a sad saucebox," she said, "but I seem to grow fonder of you day by day. I don't see how I ever managed to get along without you, Cremona. Dear, dear, how much you do remind me of Lady Sophronia Howard. I never saw such a likeness. If I didn't know that it is impossible, I should think you were her own daughter.""I don't want to be her daughter," said the madcap willfully. "I'm nobody's child, and I'm getting rather to like it.""You are my child," said her benefactress, "and I don't intend to let anybody take you from me."At that moment the bell rang, and the servant appeared with the startling intelligence that Mr. Dillwyn and his bride had arrived.Mrs. Herbert sprang to her feet."Two hours ahead of the specified time!" she cried. "How very much like Arthur that is. Dear, dear, I am all of a tremor. It is cruel of my brother to subject me to such an exciting ordeal. Come, my clear Cremona, we've got to receive them, I suppose, so we might as well do it at once."They went down together to Mr. Dillwyn's private sitting room, where he was awaiting them with his bride.He came forward at their entrance with the lady on his arm, a fair young girl with roguish eyes and a sunny smile.Cap'n Frank caught sight of her face, stood like one thunderstruck for a moment, and then drew back with a sharp cry of surprise.Arthur Dillwyn's bride was Gwendoline Throckmorton, Dick Throckmorton's only sister.CHAPTER XXXII. HER TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY.The autumn time that was rapidly merging into winter had brought many changes and surprises to the neighborhood of Beechcroft.Dick Throckmorton, after hanging about the mountains like an outlaw for weeks, and making some two or three ineffectual attempts on Tom Lynwold's life, having at last made up his mind to abandon his fruitless search for Cap'n Frank, or coming to the conclusion that the unfortunate girl was dead, had disappeared.Whither he was gone, no one, not even his mother, knew.Back to his former haunts of vice and dissipation in the Old World, no doubt, leaving the home he might have gladdened and honored by his presence dark and desolate.Mrs. Throckmorton, prematurely aged in consequence of the terrible experience she had undergone, was making preparations to visit her daughter Gwendoline, who not long before had eloped with Arthur Dillwyn, or Sir Arthur, as he was now called, since, by the death of his uncle, he had come into possession of the Sutgard baronetcy. And pretty Rose, finding herself quite deserted, had made up her mind to bestow her hand and fortune on Captain St. Denys.As for Cleo De Lansac, having had her revenge, after a fashion, she was biding her time--for what, she could scarcely have told, unless she looked forward to some distant day when the man whose perfidy had wrecked and ruined her life should tire of his life of selfish dissipation, and come back and make good his promise to make her his wife.Major Crawford's home was a gloomy one.With Cap'n Frank the sunshine seemed to have departed from his threshold, and the poor old gentleman was fast growing aged and hopeless."We shall never see our little madcap again, Tom," he said, when the two sat together in the October sunshine, talking their sorrow over. "What I said first, I say last--she's dead."Poor Tom had nothing to say. He could not contradict the sad assertion, for while he knew that Cap'n Frank and little black Trix had come back to their old home that summer night, his conviction was that they had both lost their lives in trying to escape from Throckmorton across the river.The boat they had used had been found adrift, and a scarf bearing the hapless girl's initials was found entangled among some debris thrown up by the tide.All this, and what he had witnessed with his own eyes, satisfied poor Tom that his little madcap sweet- heart had perished in the restless river, and he blamed himself constantly for the part he had acted in the affair.If he had been less stern in his judgment--if he had held his tongue, and let the two alone when they came back for the madcap's old violin, their lives might have been spared.So the poor fellow blamed himself for all that had happened, living over and over again that last terrible parting with the girl he loved so adoringly."I am done with you forever," she had said, "I never want to see your face again."Her words were prophetic. She would never see his, face again; her eyes were closed forever under the chill waters of the restless river.No one ever guessed how poor Tom suffered, for he kept his anguish to himself, making no complaint, but devoting all his energies to the poor old major."Let me try to make up to you," he said. "Let me be to you as a son.So, relinquishing all the dreams and an ambitions of his dawning manhood, Tom remained at Beechcroft, doing what he could to comfort Uncle Jack for the sake of the girl he had loved."I think Cap'n Frank would like me to do it," he said to himself, "and, I will. It is all the same to me now what I accomplish, or what I leave undone."The years came and went--slow, sad, uneventful years, bringing no tidings of the lost one, no comfort to the hearts of those who mourned so deeply over her sad fate.Cleo De Lansac began to grow sick from hope deferred. As for Louise, she had long before given up all thought of winning Tom Lynwold's love."I thought I could do it," she said, "but I see my mistake. If I could take my heart out and lay it at the fellow's feet, the chances are that he'd step on it. He has never cared for but one woman, and he never will, and I'm sorry now I ever made trouble for him and Cap'n Frank."Somewhat later, when this same volatile young woman had succeeded in captivating the minister of the parish--a young man who possessed quite a large fortune in his own right--on the eve of her marriage, she became truly penitent, and made a solemn vow that if Cap'n Frank were alive--and somehow she had a conviction that she was--that she would make it a point to hunt her up, and undo the wrong she had done.Meantime, across the sea, in the magnificent home of the Honorable Mrs. Georgiana Herbert, some very strange events were being foreshadowed.Cap'n Frank, or Cremona, as she was now called, had won her way into all hearts--even Arthur Dillwyn's bride, notwithstanding the unpleasant rumors that had been afloat in days gone by, concerning the madcap and her brother Dick, had quite fallen in love with her.Their first meeting had, of course, been a great surprise."Why, Cinderella," the bride cried out, after one swift glance of recognition, "what are you doing here?""I might ask you that same question," retorted Cap'n Frank; then, going close to Gwendoline's side, she laid her hand on her arm, and lifted her blue eyes to her face."I am Cinderella to you," she said, in a low voice," and Cremona to my friends here. So let it be. Don't unearth my past.""I won't," answered the bride promptly, and she kept her promise to the letter.And now three years had gone by, three years of arduous toil and study, under the supervision of the best masters that Europe could afford, and on her twenty-first birthday the grandest ball of the season was to be given at Hampton Oaks, and Cap'n Frank, as Mrs. Herbert's protégée and adopted daughter, was to be presented to the London world.CHAPTER XXXIII. THE RED SEALS BROKEN.Pretty Lady Evelyn, the Lady Sophronia Charnleigh's oldest daughter, was spending the night with Cap'n Frank, or Miss Cremona, as she was now called, and the two, who were great friends in a fond, girlish fashion, were sitting before the hearth in an upper chamber at Hampton Oaks, beguiling the "wee sma' hours" in talking over the ball."It was over, Mrs. Herbert's grand ball, and Cremona, her beautiful protégée, had been duly presented to the London world with a marked promise of future success and queenship which far exceeded the haughty lady's most sanguine expectations."I felt sure that the dear child would make a sensation," she said, when the guests had departed; "but I didn't dream of anything like this. Why, she carried everything by storm. Cremona, my love, let me congratulate you. The Duchess of Leicester said to me a minute ago that your success at a first ball eclipsed anything she had ever witnessed in the run of her life. And think of the debutantes she has introduced! My love, she paid you a great compliment.""Did she ?" replied the madcap, shrugging her graceful shoulders. "Well, I'm ever so much obliged to her grace. I'd like to return the compliment, but I think she's an exceedingly stupid old woman.""My dear child!" cried Mrs. Herbert, throwing up her jeweled hands. "Why, you shouldn't speak in that way of the duchess. She's a charming woman, and besides, she wants to present you to the queen at her majesty's next drawing-room.""Mercy, Lady Evelyn," cried ,the madcap, when the two were alone together, "is this the way you live? Don't you find it all a dreadful bore?""No, indeed, you untutored little savage, we just dote upon it!" cried the English girl, with a merry laugh. "Balls, parties, admiration, and a good match in the end. Why, they are the things we live for.""I pity you, then," said Cap'n Frank gravely, "from the bottom of my heart.""Well, you needn't," her friend retorted; "we're content with our lot, and so will you be when you get initiated. Come, now, honor bright, as Dick, the coachman,says, weren't you pleased at Lord Desmond's devotion? He fell in love with you at first sight--that was patent to every eye. He's considered the best match of the season. Didn't you find him entertaining, my dearest Cremona?""Lord Desmond ! I think he's a horrid man—""He's my cousin, bear in mind.""Can't help it, my dear; he lisps, parts his hair ~in the middle, and talks nonsense. Why, he didn't say but one pleasant thing to me the whole evening.""What was that, pray?""He told me I looked enough like you to be your sister.""Oh, every one says that; and I feel highly complimented, of course. Mamma says we look alike, she added, putting her arm about Cremona and drawing her forward until they stood in front of the pier mirror, "and it must be so; very plain people resemble very pretty ones sometimes, you know.""Oh, yes, I'm fully aware of that fact," laughed the madcap."Well, it must be the case with you and me, since every one seems to notice the likeness between us. Our hair and eyes are of the same color, and really, when one comes to look closely, we are alike. My dear Cremona, how I wish we were sisters, sure enough, as the children say, don't you?""With all my heart, dear; but I don't think I should love you one bit better than I do.""Don't you, really? That's comforting. Mamma declares you've bewitched her," she added; "she never tires of looking at your face. She wants you to let her have your portrait painted. Cremona, they say a girl always inherits her beauty from her mother, and if it is true, your mother must have been a lovely woman.""I don't remember my mother," said the madcap, turning from the mirror. "Indeed, I am not quite sure I ever had one.""Oh, I beg your pardon!" Lady Evelyn cried. "I'm sorry I alluded to the matter. I hope I haven't pained you, dear?""Oh, no, it doesn't signify in the least. I think I have told you I am nobody's child."Lady Evelyn had no time to answer, for at that moment there was a tap at the door, and Trix appeared. The selfsame Trix of days gone by—not a head taller, and apparently scarcely a day older. "Miss Cremoner," she said, advancing toward her mistress, with a worn-looking package in her hands, "yo' done forgot all 'bout dis heah, ain't yo'? I wus puttin' dat ole trunk ob yourn ter rights, an' what should I come 'cross but dis heah; and den it jes' pops right in my head as dis yo' birfday, and yo'ss twenty-one. Don't yo' remember?"Catching sight of Lady Evelyn at that moment, she would have retreated, but Cap'n Frank detained her."No, Trix, no; don't go. Never mind about Lady Evelyn. What is it you've got there ?""Why, de ole package, miss, wid de red seals—what de ole 'oman on de mounting gib ye dat mawnin' f o' she died, an' telled ye ter open it when yo' wuz twenty-one; don't yo' 'member dat, Miss Cremoner?""Yes, Trix, I remember it; give me the package. I had made up my mind to let it go; but it won't do any harm to open it. But I know pretty well what it contains.""What in the world is it?" inquired Lady Evelyn, with girlish curiosity.Then, seeing a look of annoyance on her friend's face, she hastened to add:"Oh, I beg your pardon.; I shouldn't have asked such a question. Pray excuse me, my dearest Cremona, and I'll withdraw while you examine your papers.""No, Evelyn, no," said the madcap promptly; "you'll do nothing of the kind. If we're going to be friends, it won't do to begin by having secrets from each other. I'll tell you all about it. You've heard already that I am nobody's child—a stray thing, without a single claim on any living creature?""My dear Cremona!""Never mind; let me go on, Evelyn. This package is said to contain the secret of my birth. It was given to me, before I came to England, by a queer old woman, who lived in a miserable hut on the mountainside. I'll tell you all about it one of these days.""All right, my dear, go on.""Well, she was on her deathbed—the old woman, I mean—and she gave me this package, and made me swear, with my hand on the Bible, not to break the seals until I was twenty-one years old—and I am that to-night."Lady Evelyn clasped her hands with a little cry."Why, it is just like a story!" she exclaimed. "I never dreamed that such things could happen in real life. How in the world have you been able to wait all these years? I never could have done it?""I haven't been at all impatient," replied the madcap indifferently. "I think I've guessed what the secret is. I've, been informed already that I am nobody's child, and I dare say these musty old papers will only repeat the story. It isn't a very pleasant one to hear, but I'll try to stand it.""Why, good gracious!" cried Lady Evelyn excitedly, "I should think the papers would reveal the secret of your birth—tell you who your parents were."Cap'n Frank looked up suddenly, the color deepening in her cheeks."I've never thought of that," she said. "I—I hope it may not be so"—her voice trembling a little. "I think I prefer being nobody's child. But I'll break the seals, anyhow. No, no, Trix, you're not to go. You've shared all my troubles so far, and you shan't be ruled out now. She's my guardian angel, done in ebony, you see, Lady Evelyn. I can't imagine what would become of me if it weren't for Trix. But now for the secret."She broke the massive red seals as she spoke, and drew forth two closely written sheets of yellow foolscap."Mercy! there's a lot of it," she cried. "I must have a pedigree as long as my arm. Be patient, Evelyn, dear, just for one moment, and you shall hear what it's all about."She smoothed out the yellow sheets, and glanced over the cramped writing with eager eyes.The clock ticked on the mantel, and the fire snapped in the grate, and now and then the yellow sheets rustled tremulously in the madcap's hands. Otherwise dead silence reigned.But presently the girl arose with a startled cry."Merciful heavens!" she gasped out, the papers fluttering from her trembling hands. "It can't be so—there must be some mistake—I can't believe it."Lady Evelyn was at her side in an instant, her arms about the trembling girl's waist."My dearest Cremona, you are pale—you are ill. Oh, what is it now? Tell me what I can do for you!""Nothing, nothing—read that paper, I, can't. Read it and tell me what you think of it, Lady Evelyn. Oh, it can't be so—it can't be so! I never can believe it."Lady Evelyn snatched up the sheets, and ran her eyes over the closely written lines.The story was tediously told, with many words and explanations, but she reached the point at last.For a moment she stood like one petrified, the color fading from her cheeks, her blue eyes dilating; then she threw the documents away and caught the madcap in her arms."It is true," she cried, "every word of it. Oh, it seems to me now I've known it all along! You are my sister—my own dear sister—and mamma is your mamma as well as mine. Cremona, darling, don't you understand?"The poor little madcap struggled desperately for self-control, but the shock produced by the wonderful revelation proved too much for her.The words she tried to speak died on her lips, and with a long, quivering breath, she slipped from her friend's grasp, and sank to the floor in a dead faint.Lady Evelyn was terribly frightened, and began to shriek and wring her hands in a most piteous manner.Her cries brought Mrs. Herbert, and half the people in the house, to the room, and in the confusion and excitement that followed the document might have been trampled underfoot but for the foresight of little black Trix.She gathered the papers up, and when she got a chance, put them in Mrs. Herbert's hands."Read dat," she said, "an' you'll fin' out what de fuss is all about."The lady glanced over the yellow pages, and understood what had happened."I've feared something like this all along," she said bitterly, crushing the yellow sheets in her white hands, "and now it has come. But she's mine—I love her—and I've a right to keep her. I can't give her up. I've half a mind to throw these hateful papers in the fire."But she thought better of the matter a moment later, and began to laugh and cry by turns at the thought of her favorite's good fortune."Lord Charnleigh's oldest daughter, and heir to Lady Gordon's fortune," she said. "Why, my darling will be the richest as well as the most beautiful woman in England.""And she's my own sister—my own darling sister," cried Lady Evelyn. "Oh, what will mamma say? Send for her, Mrs. Herbert, do send for mamma; it would be a sin to wait until morning."Mrs. Herbert raised no objection. So a messenger was dispatched to Charnleigh Castle to let Lady Sophronia know that her presence was needed at Hampton Oaks.She came in trembling haste, but when the strange story was revealed to her, and the proof thereof put in her hands, she evinced but little surprise."I have known it all along," she sobbed, clasping the unconscious girl in her arms. "My heart has told me. There is no need of proofs. She is my little Isabel—my long-lost child."CHAPTER XXXIV. A SOLEMN PARTING."Trix, I'm heartily tired of the sort of life we've been leading for the last year—what do you say to tossing up pennies, and running away again?"The little negress looked up with shining, round eyes."I's willin', Cap'n Frank, de Lawd knows," she answered promptly. "I's bin tired ob all dis fuss an' fedders eber so long. I's jes' sick fur a sight ob de ole cab'n at Beechcroft, I is."The madcap's blue eyes filled with tears."Poor little Trix," she said, "you've been a stranger in a strange land all these years for my sake. Well, never mind, we'll go back, Trix—we'll go back to dear old Beechcroft just as soon as we can make our arrangements."Cap'n Frank meant what she said.The strange story told in the yellow package, with the red seals, was all true. The madcap was no longer a stray and waif, but a lady of high degree—the oldest daughter of Lord and Lady Charnleigh; the long—lost babe, over whose mysterious disappearance the unhappy parents had mourned and wondered for so many years.The confession of the treacherous nurse had made the whole affair as clear as daylight.The babe had been stolen from its wicker carriage, left for a moment in the shrubbery, while the careless attendant, a giddy girl, was in close conversation with her lover a few yards off.Every detail of the affair went to prove that Mrs. Herbert's protégée was the missing child, and when the old Roman locket was produced, the matter was settled.Lord and Lady Charnleigh recognized the old trinket at once, and disclosed, what no one had suspected, that,it opened by a hidden spring; and it was found to contain a likeness of the father and mother, and also a slip of parchment, on which the child's name, Isabel Gordon Charnleigh, and the date of its birth and baptism were recorded.So the matter was settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, and Mrs. Herbert's pretty protégée, the nameless Cremona, was in due time presented to the London world as Lord and Lady Charnleigh's long-lost daughter, and Lady Gordon's expectant heir.But, in spite of her amazing good fortune and the high position to which she was,so suddenly elevated, Cap'n Frank was a madcap still, and, in the midst of her splendid surroundings, she longed, with the weariness of hope deferred, for her native freedom.She tired of her honors even before the novelty of her new position had worn off, and turned away, sick at heart, from all the brilliant promises her future held out to her.The adulation of men and the flattery of women filled her with impatient disgust, and she pined like a caged eagle, with a feeling of terrible homesickness, for the familiar scenes and associations of her early life."I must go back, Trix," she said, at last. "I can't endure —this sort of existence a day longer; besides, Uncle Jack is getting to be an old man now, and I must see him again before he dies; and, besides, Trix, I can't survive much longer without my precious old Cremona —I can't, indeed.""I's ready an' willin' ter go, Cap'n Frank, but s'posin' we comes 'cross Mr. Throckmorton—what den?" suggested wise Trix.The madcap looked thoughtful for a minute, and then her blue eyes flashed with the old, willful light of days gone by."Well, he won't eat us, at any rate, Trix," she answered, with a light laugh. "At all events, I've made up my mind to risk it."So the two were making their secret arrangements to take up their gypsy life again, when an unforeseen circumstance happened which compelled them to change their program in a measure.A letter came to Cap'n Frank, or Lady Isabel Gordon Charnleigh, as she was now called, from Sir Arthur Dillwyn's wife, Gwendoline, which ran as follows:"MY DEAREST FRIEND: I am at a loss how to address you. Whether to say 'my lady' or 'your grace' after all the wonderful things that have happened, but, at any rate, I'll try to make you understand what I want. My husband will be at Charnleigh Castle in the course of a day, and I want you to come right home with him."I have kept your secret, dear, as you requested me that first day when we met so unexpectedly, and I don't intend to allude to your past now."I shall write to your mother, Lady Sophronia, requesting her to let you come to me for a few days, and if you urge the matter, I don't think she'll refuse. But I must tell you my real reason for sending for you."Cap'n Frank, my brother is here, poor Dick, and his physicians say two weeks at most is the limit of his life. He received a gunshot wound accidentally at Arthur's shooting box in the Highlands, and has come home to us to die. Isn't it sad? Poor Dick, he has been a bad fellow in his day, but he seems repentant enough now, and, my dear, he calls for you incessantly."Your name is on his lips day and night, and he begs to be allowed to see you, if only, one moment, so I have ventured to send for you."No matter what you may have against him, I think, dear, you will feel better when all is over if you come, and make the poor fellow's last moments happy."Your affectionate friend, "GWENDOLINE DILLWYN."Lady Sophronia, who could not bear to have her beautiful daughter out of her sight for a moment, flatly refused to grant Lady Dillwyn's request at first."It is quite out of the question," she declared. "Why, we have a dozen engagements on hand for the coming week; there's the Duchess of Leicester's ball, and Lady Gordon's party, at which you are expected to perform on your violin, my dearest Isabel—and I could name—""Don't do it, I beg," 'the madcap cut in. "Spare us the enumeration, and forgive me for saying that I am quite tired of gayety. I wasn't born and bred to it, you must remember, my dear mother, and a surfeit of sweets will produce disgust, while on the other hand, if you allow the to take things quietly, I may learn in time to like this sort of life as much as you do. But in regard to this little visit to Sutgard Manor, I really should enjoy it, and I hope you'll consent to let me go.""The girl uses excellent logic," said his lordship, "and she shall have her way."So Lady Sophronia was compelled to acquiesce, though sorely against her will, and Lady Isabel, accompanied, not only by Trix, but also by an English waiting maid, returned home with Sir Arthur."Ah, I was sure you would come, my dear," said Lady Gwendoline, meeting them in the hall, "and you are not here an hour too soon. Poor Dick has grown much worse since morning, and his physicians say he will not live the night out. As soon as you've rested a little, and had your tea, you shall go in and see the poor fellow."Cap'n Frank's heart beat almost audibly as she entered the hushed chamber, in which the dying man lay.A pair of dim candles burned on each side of the bed, and in front of the sufferer, where his gaze could rest upon it, hung a glittering crucifix.Throckmorton's face was so changed that the girl would never have recognized him.His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken, and that indescribable expression, which is a sure precursor of death, was on his pale face.His thin hands were groping nervously about the bed, and as Cap'n Frank drew near, she caught the sound of her own name."Cap'n Frank! Cap'n Frank! where are you? Won't you come and bid me good-by?"The husky, tremulous whisper stirred the madcap's heart with an infinite pity, and brought a rush of blinding tears to her eyes.She went softly to the bedside, and laid her hand on the dying man's forehead."Here I am," she said. "Don't you know me, Mr. Throckmorton?"The great, hollow eyes opened, and rested, with a sort of wondering incredulity, on her face."Yes, I know you," the poor fellow said. "It was kind of you to come. You'll never know how I've longed to see your face once more."Gwendoline had left the room, and Cap'n Frank stood alone by the bedside."It was cruel of you to hide yourself from me," Throckmorton went on, his solemn gaze never moving from her face. "I have searched for you everywhere. If you could have cared for me, I meant to be a better man for your sake. But you didn't care—you could never have loved me, and it is better for me to die, and set you free."His voice failed for a moment, and his breath seemed to cease, then he rallied a little, and went on:"You are my wife—but I've kept the secret—not even Gwendoline knows. No one need ever know now. My wife"—his voice quivering, and a sudden flash lighting his dying eyes—"my wife, for three long years, and I've never kissed your hand. It has been hard to bear, but I didn't deserve your love. You should have a better man for your husband. Ah, well, you'll soon be free. I've caused you to suffer, my darling, much as I've loved you. Can you forgive me?""Yes, I forgive you with all my heart." said Cap'n Frank, in a trembling voice.The poor fellow reached forth with an effort, and took her hand in a tremulous clasp."Would you mind kissing me once?" he said; "just once before I die?"Touched to the heart by the entreating voice, the girl bent down and kissed him twice."You are kind, he said, with a smile of supreme content; "I have not deserved it."A few minutes later he fell back dead."I am free at last," thought the madcap, standing at the window in the gray of the following morning, and listening to the drip, drip of the autumn rain. "But my freedom brings me no comfort. Poor fellow! how sad it seems for him to have died so young, and his life all wasted, too! I almost wish I could have loved him, and helped him to be a better man."But like the shadows of the early dawn, the girl's somber feelings wore away, and by the time the funeral was over she had quite decided upon her future course of action.The secret of her marriage to Throckmorton she resolved to divulge to no one, not even to the dead man's sister."Let it die with the past, which was so fraught with mistakes and sorrows," she said to herself.A few mornings after the sad event, the madcap went to Gwendoline, who was sitting in her morning parlor."My dear," she said, "I don't think there's anything I can do to comfort you, so I'm going to leave you this morning.""This morning?- cried the baronets wife, in sur- prise. "Why, I thought it was understood that you would remain until the first of next week. I am sure Arthur wrote to Lady Sophronia to that effect.""Perhaps he did; but I have other plans in view," replied the madcap. "My dear Gwendoline, you have kept one secret for me, and I'm going to ask you to keep another. I don't intend to return to Charnleigh Castle; I'm going home to Beechcroft. There, there, I know you're surprised—and shocked, too, no doubt; but hear me out. I wasn't 'to the manor born,' you see, and I'm heartily tired of playing the role of a titled lady; and I'm breaking my heart for a sight of any old home. Uncle Jack is an old man now, and if I waste much more time I shall never see him this side of the grave, and I don't think I could survive that. I've stated all this to my mother, but she doesn't seem to understand the situation. She prefers that I should quite cut my American friends, as she terms them, or, rather, cancel all claims they may have upon me by offering them a round sum of money—or suffering her ladyship to do it in my stead. This done, I am to devote myself to balls and parties, and bend all my energies to the task of securing a titled husband."I may be quite silly, my dear; no doubt you think I am; but I'm sick of balls, and I don't want a husband of any sort at present. So I'm going home to Beech croft and Uncle Jack.""Not alone—not without Lady Sophronia's con- sent?" cried the baronet's wife. "My dear child, she will never forgive you.""Can't help it, my dear; I'm going, all the same; and I'll tell you what I want you to do. Here's a letter for Lady Sophronia, and another for Mrs. Herbert, explaining everything; but neither one is to be delivered until you know, as a fact, that Miss Frank Crawford —that being my name at present—and her maid, Trix, have sailed for the United States. You have been very kind to me in other matters. My dear Gwendoline, will you promise to aid me in this?"Gwendoline was at a loss what answer to make, and went to her husband in great distress."Well, really, my dear," said the baronet, when he had heard the whole story, "I can't take it upon myself to interfere. Upon the whole, the best thing we can do is to let the girl have her way—only be sure she is well supplied with money—and I'll see to the rest."So, to her infinite satisfaction, the madcap was left to follow the bent of her own wild will. The consequence was, that the next outgoing steamer bore her and Trix toward the shores of America.CHAPTER XXXV.A MERRY REUNION.There was not a happier wife and mother in Christendom than Louise Courtney.She had made up her mind to reform when she married the young minister of the parish, and she had lived up to her resolution.A sweeter, truer wife no man ever had; and to the people under her husband's charge she was a ministering angel."I don't deserve to be as happy as I am, George, darling," she said to her husband again and again. "I'm afraid you wouldn't tolerate me at all if you knew what a heartless creature I used to be before I met you. But I'm trying to do better, indeed I am, for your sake and baby's. But there's one wrong I'm afraid I shall never be able to right. You know what that is, dear?""Yes, dearest, I know," replied her husband."But if she's dead, as they say, George—if the poor child's dead, I shall be obliged to go down to my grave with the sin on my soul. Oh, I wish I had my time to go over again. I wish mamma hadn't raised Cleo and one to be such heartless sinners. I might have been a good girl if I'd had some one to teach me. Oh, I'll try to make my baby grow up a good woman, indeed I will.""But you must ask Heaven to help you, dearest," suggested the clergyman.Comforted thus by his loving words and pious teachings, all that was good in the young wife's nature was developed; and with her little child to love, and her husband's people to care for, she would have been perfectly happy but for the remembrance of that wrong.Every time she saw Tom Lynwold's sad, patient face, the unpleasant memory was brought back afresh."They loved each other, and I parted them," she said to herself, "and one day Fate will punish me for my wickedness."But the months came and went, and the babe grew and thrived, and with each day Louise grew happier and more content in her husband's love.At Beechcroft the household was a sad one; the poor old major was fast drifting into his second childhood, and had no one to comfort him but faithful Tom.Mrs. Crawford and her daughter, Cleo, having failed in their intentions with regard to the master of Throckmorton Hall, had gone abroad, and were enjoying themselves after their own fashion in the French capital, when an English paper brought them news of Dick Throckmorton's death.Cleo grew slightly pale as she read the paragraph,, but the elder lady seemed in no wise disturbed."Poor fellow!" she said carelessly, "but he wasn't of much account as it turned out; and I dare say it was a providence, my dearest Cleo, that you had nothing to do with him. Besides, if you succeed in winning that charming French count, who takes us to the ball tonight, your prospects will be much better."It was toward the close of an autumn day, not very long after Throckmorton's death, that Mr. Courtney, the parish minister, sitting on the portico, with his babe in his arms, and his wife beside him, saw a carriage approaching the house."My dear, we're about to have company," he said. "I think it is the carriage from Stonebridge."The Stonebridge ladies stood quite high in Mr. Courtney's church, so it was natural that his wife should stand somewhat in awe of them."You go and meet them, George, dear, while I run and change my dress," she said; and snatching the baby from his arms, she hastened away.The minister went out to meet the carriage, prepared to extend a cordial welcome to his Stonebridge parishioners, but found instead a lovely little lady, in a sealbrown traveling suit, with a black maid sitting beside her.I am Major Crawford's niece," she began, with a pathetic little tremor in her sweet voice, "and, if you please, I'd like to see the minister of the parish.""I am the minister," the young man answered meekly.Cap'n Frank lifted up her delicate brows."The minister was an old man when I left here," she said, "but I suppose there have been changes. Will you tell me about the people at Beechcroft, sir. Is Major Crawford still alive?""Yes, he's alive and well. Won't you come in for a few minutes, Miss Crawford?""No, sir, thank you kindly; I have been away so long that I feel impatient to get home."I suppose so, but you must stop for just a moment; I must call my wife; she wants to see you on a matter of importance.""Your wife, sir? You must be mistaking me for another person.""No, I think not. You are Cap'n Frank, and my wife was Louise De Lansac, and she'll never forgive me if she doesn't see you."He darted away as he uttered the words, leaving the madcap quite stunned with amazement."Louise De Lansac married to the minister of the parish," she thought. "What shall I hear next?"In another moment Louise came flying down the graveled walk, with her black curls blown all about her happy face."You must get out," she cried. "Oh, Cap'n Frank, I'm so glad to see you alive! You must get out; I've something to tell you, and we'll have our tea together, while George goes up to Beechcroft and breaks the news. They believe you are dead, you see, and it won't do for you to appear before them suddenly."So Cap'n Frank got out and went up the walk to the minister's cottage.On the threshold of her own home Louise turned and took the madcap's hands."This is my home," she said, "and I'm trying to be a good woman for my husband's and baby's sake. But there's one wrong I've never been able to right; but George said God would give me a chance if I repented, and he was right. Cap'n Frank, listen to what I have to tell you before you come in and break bread with me. When I told you that Tom Lynwold gave me that locket—you remember it?—I was telling you a deliberate falsehood."I found the locket in the grass, and it was intended for you. I tried to captivate Tom, but he never noticed me, never gave me a sign of encouragement from first to last. He loved only you, and he loves you yet; and lives there at Beechcroft, breaking his heart for your sake. I made the trouble between you, I did it, do you understand? But I've repented. Oh, I would have given anything to have recalled it all, when I married George, and he tried to make me a better woman, and the thought of it has spoiled my happiness, and hung over me like a curse. Now, what do you say? Do you think you can ever forgive me?"The madcap tried to speak, but her voice failed her; and throwing herself into Louise's arms, she burst into a passion of tears.So the two wept together, and thus the wrong was blotted out forever."I'm a happy woman now," cried Louise, catching up her infant, and dancing round and round the room., "I'm a happy woman, though I don't deserve to be. It is all right now, and you'll soon be happy, too, dear, for Tom Lynwold has loved you, and you alone, from first to last."Later on, when the dusk was falling, they went over to Beechcroft together, little black Trix running far ahead, and screeching out like a crazed creature, for very joy.The old major saw them coming, and hastened, down to meet and welcome the returning prodigal, leaning on Tom Lynwold's strong arm."My child was dead, but she lives again," he cried, taking the madcap in his arms.The meeting was an affecting one, and the old man's joy was touching to behold, but Tom Lynwold, after the first few words of welcome, stood aloof, saying but little."Let's go home, George, darling," whispered happy Louise, pinching her husband's arm, "and give them a chance to make it all up."They went accordingly, and when the candles had been lighted, and the major went in to get his tea, Cap'n Frank stole out in the silver twilight, and went to Tom, sitting all by himself in the gathering shadows."Tom, dear," she said softly, laying her hand on his arm, "I've come to tell you my story. Are you willing to hear it?"He signified his willingness to listen, and she told him everything, all her strange adventures, all the romance of her restoration to her parents, ending with Throckmorton's death."And now." she added, her voice broken, and tears trickling down her cheeks, "I've come back to Uncle Jack, and to you, Tom, and there's something I want to tell you, dear. You asked me to love you once, and I refused, but, Tom, dear, I didn't understand my own heart then. I know now that I have loved you always, Tom, from first to last."He arose to his feet, his face white, his eyes shining in the darkness."Tell me the truth," he said, taking her by the shoulder and holding her off at arm's length. "Look at me and tell me the truth. Do you mean what you are saying, Cap'n Frank?""Every word of it, Tom; I've been a foolish girl, but I've loved no man but yourself; and, Tom," dropping her eyes and coming closer to him, "I shall never leave you again unless you send me away.""What?" cried the poor fellow, dazed and aston- ished. "And you a titled lady, as you've just told me? What will your people say?""That doesn't signify in the least. I don't like being a titled lady, and I belong to myself, and to no one else, unless you consent to take me."Tom had but one answer, and that was to fold her to his heart.A little later, when the major had been told the good news, and the madcap sat in her old seat in the bay window, with the old Cremona, which Trix had unearthed and brought down, closely clasped in her arms, the old gentleman said:"That looks like old times, madcap, I can almost fancy that the past is all a dream, and you've never been from your old home."The girl sighed as she looked out into the gathering darkness, and turned to her lover: "Ah, how good it seems to be back again at the old home. Oh, to think of the years I've wasted in learning to know my own mind. Ah, me, I've been a silly, silly girl."You shall be a happy one henceforth, my darling," said Tom softly, "if my love can make you so."THE END.In the NEW EAGLE SERIES will next appear No. 1213, "Without Name or Wealth," by Ida Reade Allen. Back cover of Jones's "A Reckless Promise"