Vixen, giving Arion a light touch of her whip, which sent him flying along the shadowy ride. Blue Peter followed as swiftly. Rorie was by Violet's side again in a minute, with his hand grasping hers.

"You mean that you don't love me?" he exclaimed, angrily. Why could you not have said so at the first? Why have you let me live in a fool's paradise?''

"The paradise was of your own making," she answered. "I love you a little for the past, because my father loved you-because you are all that remains to me of my happy childhood. Yes, if it were not for you, I might look back and think those dear old days were only a dream. But I hear your voice, I look at you and know that you are real, and that I once was very happy. Yes, Rorie, I do love you-love you; yes, with all my heart, dearer, better than I have ever loved any one upon this earth since my father was laid in the ground. Yes, dear." Their horses were walking slowly now, and her hand was locked in his as they rode side by side. "Yes, dear, I love you too well, and you and I must part. I had schooled myself to believe that I loved you only as I might have loved a brother-that you could be Lady Mabel's husband and my true friend. But that was a delusion; that can never be. You and I must part, Rorie. This night-ride in the forest must be our last. Never any more, by sun or moon, must you and I ride together. It is all over, Rorie, the old childish friendship. I mean to do my duty, and you must do yours.'

should. Think, Rorie, what a shameful thing it would be to do to break off an engagement which has been so long publicly known, to wound and grieve your good aunt and uncle."

"They have been very kind to me," sighed Rorie. "It would hurt me to give them pain."

His conscience told him she was right, but he was angry with her for being so much. wiser than himself.

Then, in a moment, love, that had slumbered long, idly happy in the company of the beloved, and had suddenly awakened to know that this summer-day idlesse meant a passion stronger than death-love got the better of conscience, and he cried, vehemently,

"What need I care for the duke and duchess? They can have their choice of husbands for their daughter; an heiress like Mabel has only to smile, and a man is at her feet. Why should I sacrifice myself, love, truth, all that makes life worth having? Do you think I would do it for the sake of Ashbourne and the honor of being being a duke's son-in-law?"

No, Rorie, but for the sake of your promise. And now look: there is Lyndhurst steeple above the woods. I am near home, and must say 'Good-night.''

"You will keep your promise to your mother; you will act as a man of honor

"I shall not let you go so easily," he said,

resolutely. "Vixen, I have loved

you ever

A silvery snake glided across the track; a

wife?" "No."

you say

'Why did love me?" that you Because I cannot tell a lie. Yes, I love you, Rorie, but I love your honor and my own better than the chance of a happiness that might fade and wither before we could grasp it. I know that your mother had a very poor opinion of me while she was alive; I should like her to know-if the dead know anything that she was mistaken, and that I am not quite unworthy of her respect. You will marry Lady Mabel Ashbourne, Rorie, and ten years hence, when we are sober middle-aged people, we shall be firm friends once again, and you will thank and praise me for having counselled you to cleave to the right. Let go the bridle, Rorie; there's no time to lose. There's a glorious gallop from Queen's Bower to the Christchurch road."

It was a long, grassy ride, safe only for those who knew the country well, for it was bordered on each side by treacherous bogs. Violet knew every inch of the way. Arion scented his stable afar off, and went like the wind; Blue Peter stretched his muscular limbs in pursuit. It was a wild ride along the grassy track, beside watery marshes and reedy pools that gleamed in the dim light of a new moon. The distant woods showed black against the sky. There was no light to mark a human habitation within ken. There was nothing but night and loneliness and the solemn beauty of an unpeopled waste. A forest pony stood here and there, pastern-deep in the sedges, and gazed at those two wild riders, grave and gray, like a ghost.

a black pool as the horses galloped by. It was a glorious ride. Miserable as both riders were, they could not but enjoy that wild rush through the sweet, soft air under the silent stars.

Vixen gave a long sigh presently, when they pulled up their horses on the hard road.

"I think I am fey' now," she said. "I wonder what is going to happen to me?"

"Whatever misfortunes come to you henceforth will be your own fault," protested Rorie, savagely. "You won't be happy or make me so.

"Don't be angry with me, Rorie," she answered, quite meekly. "I would rather be miserable in my own way than happy in yours."

Arion, having galloped for his own pleasure, would now have liked to crawl. He was beginning to feel the effects of unusual toil and hung his head despondingly, but Vixen urged him into a sharp trot, feeling that matters were growing desperate.

Ten minutes later they were at the lodge leading to the stables. The gate was locked, the cottage wrapped in darkness.

"I must go in by the carriage-drive," said Vixen. "It's rather a bore, as I am pretty sure to meet Captain Carmichael. But it can't be helped."

"Let me go in with you.'

No, Rorie; that would do no good. If he insulted me before you, his insolence would pain me."

"And I believe I should pain him," said Rorie. "I should give him the sweetest horsewhipping he ever had in his life."

Vixen had ridden past the open gate. The lodge-keeper stood at his door waiting for her. Roderick respected her wishes and stayed outside.

66

Good-night," she cried, again, looking back at him; "Bates shall come to you to-morrow morning."

The hall door was wide open, and Captain Carmichael stood on the threshold waiting for his stepdaughter. One of the underlings from the stable was ready to take her horse. She dismounted unaided, flung the reins to the groom, and walked up to the captain with her firmest step. When she was in the hall, he shut the door and bolted and locked it with a somewhat ostentatious She seemed to breathe less freely when that great door had shut out the cool night. She felt as if she were in jail.

care.

"I should like half a dozen words with you in the drawing-room before you go up stairs," Captain Carmichael said, stiffly.

"A hundred if you choose," answered Vixen, with supreme coolness.

She was utterly fearless. What risks or hazards had life that she need dread? She hoped nothing, feared nothing. She had just made the greatest sacrifice that Fate could require of her she had rejected the man she fondly loved. What were the stings and arrows of her stepfather's petty malice compared with such a wrench as that? She followed Captain Carmichael to the

"Mother has gone to bed, I suppose?'' inquired Vixen.

"She has gone to her room, but I fear she is too much agitated to get any rest. I would not allow her to wait any longer for you."

Is it so very late?" asked Vixen, with the most innocent air.

Her heart was beating violently, and her temper was not at its best. She stood looking at the captain with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes and her whip tightly clinched.

She was thinking of that speech of Rorie's about the "sweetest horsewhipping." She wondered whether Captain Carmichael had ever been horsewhipped-whether that kind of chastisement was numbered in the sum of his experiences. She opined not. The captain was too astute a man to bring himself in the way of such punishment. He would do things that deserved horsewhipping and get off scot-free.

"A very old friend of my father's-Mr. Vawdrey."

66

I thought as much," retorted the captain. "And it is to Mr. Vawdrey you have been late at night unattended?"

"It is your fault that I went unattended. You have taken upon yourself to dismiss my groom-the man who broke my first pony, the man my father gave me for an attendant and protector, just as he gave me my horse. You will take upon yourself to sell my horse next, I suppose."

"I shall take a great deal more upon myself before you and I have done with each other, Miss Tempest," answered the captain, pale with passion.

Never had Vixen seen him so strongly moved. The purple veins stood out darkly upon his pale forehead, his eyes had a haggard look; he was like a man consumed inwardly by some evil passion that was stronger than himself-like a man possessed by devils. Vixen looked at him with wonder. They stood facing each other, with the lamplit table between them, the light shining on both their faces.

Why do you look at me with that provoking smile?" he asked. "Do you want to exasperate me? You must know that I

hate you.

will be lessened."

"That is not the reason; no, I am not so base as that. That is not why I hate you, Violet. If you had been some dumpy, homely country lass with thick features and a clumsy figure, you and I might have got on decently enough. I would have made you obey me, but I would have been kind to you. But you are something very different. You are the girl I would have perilled my soul to win-the girl who rejected me with careless scorn. Have you forgotten that night in the pavilion garden at Brighton? I have not. I never look up at the stars without remembering it, and I can never forgive you while that memory lives in my mind. If you had been my wife, Violet, I would have been your slave. You forced me to make myself your stepfather, and I will be master instead of slave. I will make your life bitter to you if you thwart me. I will put a stop to your running after another woman's sweetheart. I will come between you and your lover, Roderick Vawdrey. Your secret meetings, your clandestine love-making, shall be stopped. Such conduct as you have been carrying on of late is a shame and disgrace to your sex."

66

How dare you say that?" cried Vixen, beside herself with anger.

She grasped the lamp with both her hands,

open

The room reeled before her eyes, the heavy pedestal swayed in her hands, and then she saw the big moon-like globe roll on into the carpet, and after it, and darting beyond it, a stream of liquid fire that ran and ran, quicker than thought, toward the window. Before she could speak or move the flame had run up the lace curtains like a living thing, swift as the flight of a bird or the gliding motion of a lizard. The wide casement was wreathed with light. They two -Vixen and her foe-seemed to be standing in an atmosphere of fire.

Captain Carmichael was confounded by the suddenness of the catastrophe. While he stood dumb, bewildered, Vixen sprang through the narrow space between the flaming curtains as if she had plunged into a gulf of fire. He heard her strong, clear voice calling to the stable-men and gardeners. It rang like a clarion in the still summer night.

There was not a moment lost. The stable-men rushed with pails of water, and directly after them the Scotch gardener with his garden-engine, which held several gallons. His hose did some damage to the drawing-room carpet and upholstery, but the strong jet of water speedily quenched the flames. In ten minutes the window stood blank and black and bare, with Vixen standing on the lawn outside contemplating the damage she had done.

Mrs. Carmichael rushed in at the drawingroom door, ghost-like in her white peignoir, pale and scared.

“Oh, Conrad, what has happened?" she cried, distractedly, just able to distinguish her husband's figure standing in the midst of the disordered room.

"Your beautiful daughter has been trying to set the house on fire," he answered. "That is all."

II.

VIXEN IN EXILE-LOVE AND PEACE.

"WHY is Jersey the peculiar haunt of the vulgar?" Vixen wondered. "It is such a lovely place that it deserves to be visited by something better than the refuse of Margate and Ramsgate."

There was a meadow-path which lessened the distance between Les Tourelles and Mount

Orgueil. Vixen had just left the road and entered the meadow when Argus set up a joyous bark and ran back to salute a passing vehicle. It was St. Helier's fly, driving at a tremendous pace in the direction from which she had come. A young man lay back in the carriage, smoking a cigar, with his hat slouched over his eyes. Vixen could just see the strong sunburned hand flung up above his head. It was a foolish fancy, doubtless, but the broad brown hand reminded her of Rorie's. Argus leaped the stile, rushed after the vehicle and saluted it clamorously. The poor brute had been mewed up for a week in a dull courtyard, and was rejoiced to have something to bark at.

Vixen walked on to the seashore and the smiling little harbor and the brave old castle. To-day she went to her favorite corner, a seat in an angle of the battlemented wall, and sat there, with her arms folded, on the stone parapet, looking dreamnily seaward across the blue Channel to the still bluer coast of Normandy, where the towers of Coutances showed dimly in the distance.

The sun was gaining power, the air was