"Stop the horses, blockhead! That was a woman's voice."

"She-ghosts or he-ghosts, they're all the same thing, I reckon, sir," shivered the man.

A second scream came shuddering across the field, piercing the night with its sore distress and desperate need. Before the occupants of the Greylock carriage could collect their wits, another vehicle dashed out from under a clump of trees near at hand, swept furiously by, and vanished in the direction of the town.

"There is something wrong here!" cried Godfrey Greylock, springing promptly into the road. "Follow me, Carton."

Carton, who feared his master even more than he did ghosts, was compelled to obey. The twain hurried down the path, and at the base of the cairn stumbled straightway on a black, motionless heap, lying there on the cold, wet earth, under the dismal evening sky.

Two women, drenched in blood-the uppermost a girl in plain working-clothes, with arms flung convulsively over the other, as if to shield and protect her. And that other? Godfrey Greylock bent and put away her clinging vail and fair hair, and an awful cry burst from his lips.

"My God! it is Ethel! A light, Carton, a light!" Carton struck a match against the rocks. Its blue flame wavered over the scene, and lo! there at his feet, he saw the heiress of Greylock Woods, her white face set in a look of agony and terror, her hands desperately clutching the poor dress of the working-girl who had fallen prone upon her body.

Neither of the two gave any sign of life.

"Do you see!" said Godfrey Greylock, wildly; "it's my granddaughter, Carton; and some one has killed her here-here, on this accursed spot!"

Carton lifted the girl in working-clothes. "I'm blest if this one isn't the new maid at Cat's Tavern!" he said, as he scrutinized her ghastly face. "The inn folks call her Polly. Lord love us! Look, sir She's been stabbed-she's bleeding like a stuck pig !"

Master and man stood overwhelmed with consternation. "There's no help nearer than the villa," cried Godfrey Greylock, as he raised Ethel in his own arms. "God only knows the meaning of all this! I wish we had stopped the carriage which passed us just now on the road. Quick, Carton! Come with me. I am old, but I have still a little strength."

"What's to be done with this girl, sir ?"

"We cannot leave her here, neither must we lose sight of her at present. So fetch her along."

He bore his granddaughter to the carriage. Carton followed with Polly.

In this manner the two girls were conveyed to Greylock Woods. Their arrival threw the whole place into dire confusion. Polly was given over to Hopkins-little thought had anybody for her. The attention of all was centred on the heiress of the Woods, who had, as yet, given no sign of consciousness.

In an incredibly short time Dr. Vandine was on the scene. A thorough examination revealed the fact that Ethel Greylock was quite unhurt.

"Polly Polly!" he cried out, involuntarily, "into what scrape have you got yourself now ?"

But Polly was past replying. To that voice, dearer to her ears than any other sound on earth, she now remained deaf.

"I call this a very strange affair," said Vandine, addressing Godfrey Greylock, who had followed him to the servants quarters. "I know Polly," nodding toward the girl whose wounds he had just dressed. 'I have known her for years. She is thoroughly good, upright and trustworthy."

66

Godfrey Greylock bowed slightly. Apart from her connection with his adored grandchild, Polly was no more to him than some common weed which had intruded into his elegant garden-beds.

"From the position in which you found the two at the cairn," continued Vandine, "it appears to me that some murderous assault was made on Miss Greylock to-night, and that Polly sought to assist the lady at the peril of her own life. I believe we shall hear some explanation like this when your granddaughter revives."

But Ethel did not revive, and no explanation of any kind followed. All that night there was hurrying to and fro at the villa, and when morning dawned, Polly, in the servants' quarters, was still alive, though unable to move or speak; and Ethel Greylock, on her downy, perfumed bed, watched anxiously by the whole household, lay muttering in delirium. It was plain that the mystery of the night must for the present remain unsolved.

The

Dark days settled down upon the villa, the darkest which the grand house had known for many years. anxiety and efforts of every one were fixed upon Ethel Greylock, struggling now in the agonies of brain fever. Hopkins and Dr. Vandine alone had thought also for the working-girl, Polly, fainting, dying in a distant chamber from the wounds inflicted by Regnault's stiletto-wounds intended not for her, but for Ethel Greylock.

The master of the Woods had set the local authorities to work looking for suspicious characters about the town; he had also summoned a city detective to Blackport; but time passed, and nothing came of either of these aggressive measures.

Meanwhile Dr. Vandine was doing all that medical skill could do for both his patients. His hopeless passion for the heiress of the Woods, his genuine brotherly interest in Polly, stimulated him, no doubt, to put forth his best efforts in their behalf. Even Godfrey Greylock, whose anxiety for his granddaughter was something terrible, could find no fault with the young practitioner.

"My darling is in your hands," he said. "I trust her entirely to you. Save her, for God's sake, and name your

own reward !”

"I will do my utmost," answered Vandine, quietly. The first person to hasten to the villa when the tidings of Ethel's illness flew abroad was Mrs. Iris. As only the nurse and physician were allowed in the sick girl's chamber, Godfrey Greylock met her in his library. She looked pinched, haggard, greatly disturbed.

"Oh, this is dreadful!" she broke out wildly. "I do not understand it—no more do you, as I see by your face. Is it possible that traitor, that villain- But, no! do not mind me, I am talking at random. Tell me, will Ethel

"God forbid!" shuddered Godfrey Greylock. "But brain fever is extremely dangerous-its victims seldom recover!" she persisted, nervously. "In case Ethel should be taken from us, what am I to expect of you? Will you stop my allowance ?-will you consider my claims upon you at an end?"

Madam," he answered, indignantly, "you seem to have far more anxiety for yourself than for your daughter. I decline to consider for a moment the possibility of Ethel's death, or any consequences that might follow it. She must not-shall not die !" wildly. "I am now an old man- -I could not live without her. She is the only being in the wide world that I love. Adieu, madam. When you are wanted here I promise to send for you." Mrs. Iris went her way, baffled and chagrined, and the next visitor to arrive at the villa was Mercy Poole. She came stalking up the avenue, like a hussar in petticoats, and presented herself before Hopkins in the servants' quarters.

"Is it life or death here ?" she demanded, in her usual crisp fashion.

"As yet we can't tell," sighed Hopkins. "Your servant will have to stay with us for the present. She can't be moved-it would kill her at once-of course, Dr. Vandine has told you that."

"Yes," nodded Mercy Poole. "Heaven above! What can that child Polly have done, that anybody living should want to murder her? And at the old pits, too! Why, it's a deed a thousand times worse than the one that was done in the same place, years and years ago.'

Polly looked at Hopkins with hollow, apprehensive eyes. Then she struggled as if to rise.

"I want my clothes," she whispered, hoarsely. "What made them bring me here? I can't stay-I must go back at once to Cats' Tavern, and I've nothing to tell you-no, not one word!"

Hopkins stared in amazement.

"Who stabbed you at the pits, girl?" she demanded, "and how came Miss Greylock there with you? Fie! fie! You must tell everything, and immediately!"

A strange look passed over Polly's thin, bloodless face. "Ask me no questions," she panted, "for I will tell nothing-you cannot force me--I will not-I will not !" Hopkins sent at once for Dr. Vandine.

"This reminds us of the old hospital days-eh, Polly ?" began the doctor, as he advanced to the bedside of the wounded girl. "It is plain that you were born under an unlucky star. Your talent for getting into difficulties is something marvelous. Now be a good girl, Polly, and tell me who the scoundrel was that assaulted you and Miss Greylock at the cairn."

For the first time in her life she eyed him distrust

fully.

"I would not speak one word concerning that night,

The landlady of Cats' Tavern turned abruptly on her heel.

"There was a man at the inn a few hours before this thing happened," she said, slowly; "he belonged to the singing company. Long after his mates left, he hung about the place, and had a good many questions to ask concerning Blackport and its people. Regnault was the name by which he called himself, but you may be sure it wasn't his right one. The night of the assault on Miss Greylock and my servant, he paid his score early, and disappeared. Did that man have anything to do with the stabbing of Polly, and what was Ethel Greylock about at the old salt-pits that night ?"

would give me the whole wide world."

His was the voice, above all others, that had power to move her; yet now he coaxed and pleaded in vain. She was as immovable as granite. It was a new phase of Polly's character. Vandine was puzzled and provoked. As he turned away from her he said:

"I know you, Polly; you love to do noble, generous things. By your silence you are trying to shield somebody-not yourself, I feel assured."

One night in the late Summer came the crisis of Ethel's fever. Dr. Vandine and the nurse held possession of the sick-chamber. Outside its door Godfrey Greylock walked the corridor in an agony of dread. Would she live or die? In this terrible hour he realized, as never before,

Mercy Poole shrugged her shoulders, and departed as she had come.

Weary days succeeded-days when death seemed brooding over the great house, and the servants stole about with noiseless tread-when Dr. Vandine's face grew grave and careworn, and Godfrey Greylock paced his library in agonies of apprehension-when Aunt Pam hovered on the verge of distraction, and Ethel Greylock lay on her embroidered pillows, so changed and sunken that even the eyes of a lover might have failed to recognize her. It was Polly who first regained consciousness, and came drifting slowly, but surely, back to life. The girl was as tenacious of existence now as she had been in the days of her childhood. One morning she lifted up a feeble voice in the silence of the chamber where Hopkins watched her, and, as if wrestling with an overwhelming memory, said, “Was Miss Greylock hurt?"

Her first thought was of the girl for whom she had twice gone down to the very gates of death. Hopkins flew to her side.

"No," she answered," Miss Ethel is not hurt; but she is ill and delirious-you, too, have been wandering in your mind-from weakness, I suppose, and loss of blood. Do you know where you are ?—At Greylock Woods. You were brought home with Miss Ethel from the salt-pits. Now make haste, and tell me about that night. We are all dying to hear the story of it, and our poor darling has not yet been able to speak one rational word to us."

name-more than lands or gold-more than the whole wide world.

Hour after hour wore on. A deep bay-window at the end of the corridor was flooded with silver moonlight. A night-bird sang in the chestnut-trees of the avenue. The wind, full of the scent of late violets, swept up the green knolls, and through an open pane blew in upon the wretched man like a breath from heaven. Ay, would she live or die? The question beat upon his brain with regular strokes, clutched his heart like a demon - hand, choked his breath.

all

Spare her, oh, God!" he prayed, "and take instead else that I have on earth!"

The door of the sick-room opened, and Dr. Vandine stepped forth. Godfrey Greylock gathered himself up as if to receive a blow.

"Speak!" he gasped. "Is it life or death ?" Vandine's face for a moment was positively handsome. "Thank God!" he answered, "it is life!" Godfrey Greylock staggered to the deep window, flung up the sash as if suffocating, and dropping his gray head against it, burst into tears. His darling was to live, and not die.

When Ethel Greylock came drifting back from the gates of death, she found her grandfather kneeling by her bed, murmuring over her tender, broken words. She was not assailed with questions, as poor Polly had been; nothing was allowed to disturb her. Her life still hung by a thread. For a while she seemed too weak even to

remember the tragic night at the pits; but days passed, and strength returned to the heiress of the Woods, and one morning, when Godfrey Greylock came to pay his usual visit to her chamber, she stretched out her snowflake hand to him in sudden entreaty.

"Who found me that dreadful night?" shuddering. "Who brought me home to you, grandpa ?" "I found you, Ethel. I brought you home." A wild, frightened look came into her wasted face. "But how, grandpa ?—how did I escape from that man alive? Some one came between us--it was not you!" His haughty old heart seemed to stop beating. "What man, my darling ?"

She flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh, will you promise to pardon me if I tell you everything?" she sobbed. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, grandpa, and yet I cannot live without it."

"Speak, Ethel; there is nothing that I will not forgive you. Speak freely."

The nurse had retired to an adjoining room, and the two were alone together. Ethel Greylock bowed her head, like a broken lily, upon her grandfather's shoulder, and told him all.

He listened, without a sign of anger or resentment. He had been so near to losing his idol that he could feel no wrath against her now, even for the grievous offense of which she had been guilty. When her story was ended he embraced her, kissed the tears from her white cheeks, and said, in a perfectly composed voice:

"I cannot reproach you, Ethel; you have already suffered enough for your folly, poor child! By driving from you the man you loved-and it is plain to me that you do love Sir Gervase-you have ruined your whole future happiness. Even if such a thing was desirable, we should now find it useless to attempt the proper punishment of Regnault. He was in the carriage which passed me near the pits that night, and without doubt he has found a safe refuge long before this time. Who, think you, was the person that saved you from his murderous attack, Ethel ?"

"I do not know," she shuddered; "it was all so sudden I caught one glimpse of a white face in the darkness-the flash of a knife. I heard a dreadful cry; we were pushed apart; some one received the blow intended for me. I felt the hot blood in my face, and then I fainted from the terror of it all."

He looked very grave as he told her whose bleeding body he had found stretched over her own at the cairn. "Oh, I am glad you brought her here to the villa, grandpa," cried Ethel. "I am glad you have cared for her here. Surely, surely I owe my life to her !"

"From what you tell me, there can be no doubt of it." "She must have been near, and witnessed my peril, and generously interposed her own person to shield mean utter stranger, too! Noble deeds do not belong to any class or social condition, grandpa."

"True, my dear.”

"How good of Polly to maintain strict silence on this dreadful subject, in spite of all your questions! It is plain that she had determined in her own mind never to betray me. Is she fully recovered-is she able to come to my chamber? I long to speak with her."

"Vandine says she is still very weak. By-the-way, he has known the girl for years, and seems much interested in her. You can see her if you ring at once. She is going back to Cats' Tavern to-day. I have ordered the carriage to take her away at noon For some unknown

she has done ?"

He nodded.

66

Certainly. That will be an easy matter. The thing which she probably needs most is money. You have my permission to give to her as your own heart may suggest."

He rang the bell. Five minutes later, Polly, dressed for immediate departure, entered the sumptuous room. Luxury and repose steeped the very air of the place. The light was carefully softened, a delicate scent of musk-rose pervaded the atmosphere. On a carved bedstead, all afoam with lace and fine embroideries, Ethel Greylock lay, like a hothouse lily, with the proud old master of the Woods watching by her side.

Polly stepped upon this scene-an incongruous object, indeed. Her garments hung loosely upon her emaciated figure; her small face, with its large pathetic eyes and night-black braids, had a painfully sharpened, transparent look. She seemed terrified also. The heiress of the Woods stretched out to her a languid, reassuring hand.

"Come nearer-do not be afraid," she said, gently. "I have just heard of your brave, generous conduct, Polly. Thank you for keeping my secret so well. I have now told grandpa everything."

The nameless servant of Cats' Tavern had paused so near to Godfrey Greylock that her mean garments actually brushed against him, but she did not touch the hand which Ethel held out to her-he was glad of thatcontact with persons of this kind always tried him sorely.

"How white and ill you look!" continued Miss Greylock, as the other remained silent. "Oh, you have suffered much, I know, and all for me. I fear I can never thank you enough. Polly, pray tell me how you came to be at the cairn that night ?"

Polly's hollow eyes fell. Godfrey Greylock saw that she was trembling with weakness, and he pointed to a chair at the foot of the bed. She paid no heed to the gesture-she meant to make the interview short, and in thinking how she could best do it, she forgot to answer Ethel.

Come, girl!" cried the master of the Woods, impatiently; "do you hear my granddaughter? She asks you to explain your opportune arrival at the salt-pits on the night of the assault ?"

Polly fairly jumped. This old man, with his cold, severe face and haughty bearing, filled her with strange fear. She moved further from him, and stammered : "I had heard some talk at the tavern. I had reason to believe Regnault was bad-I feared he might mean harm to Miss Greylock, and so I followed him by stealth to the pits."

“Ah, yes,” mused Ethel Greylock, "you brought his letter to me-you must have known its contents. But why did you risk your own life to save mine, Polly ?"

Polly cast one wild glance at the terrible old man, whose fixed gaze seemed searching her very heart, and then, out came the truth, in spite of herself. "Because I loved you!"

Miss Greylock looked surprised and touched.

"You loved me!" she echoed, "and yet I never saw you but twice, Polly, and what did I do then to win your love?"

"It is a very solemn thing to owe one's life to another person," said Ethel Greylock. "You came to the cairn to help me, if necessary-you did not hesitate to throw your own body betwixt death and me, when the peril appeared. I am amazed at your courage and generosity— I am more grateful to you than I can tell." Her eyes grew tearful, her voice tender. "Grandpa and I are most anxious to reward you, Polly. How can we best do it? Surely you will not leave the villa to-day? You are still weak-too weak to resume your work at the inn." "Mercy Poole is a kind-hearted woman-she will lighten my tasks to suit my strength, Miss Greylock." "Nevertheless, I beg you will stay here for a time, at least. You have placed us under a heavy debt. Shall we give you money? Can we help you to change your condition in life? Perhaps you would like-for you look very bright and intelligent-to be something more than a servant, Polly. Confide in me as you would in a—a—

sister.'

Polly kept her hollow black eyes fixed on the velvet carpet. Her face betrayed nothing of the tumult in her heart. That lordly old man was still watching her closely, and her terror of him increased every moment. "You are very good, Miss Greylock," she gasped, but, if you please, I must go back to the inn to-dayI cannot stay here longer-this is no place for me. Money I've but little use for, and I'm fit for nothing but my present work-I have always been a servant." Ethel Greylock fell back on her pillow, with a disappointed air.

help of any kind, will you come to me ?" "Yes." "Yes," answered Polly, in a choking voice. "Your hand upon it !" insisted Ethel, still smiling. The work-roughened hand of the servant, the satin-soft one of the heiress, met for an instant, then fell apart. "Good-by, Polly; and remember, I am always, always your friend."

"Good-by, Miss Greylock, and thank you kindly." With these words Polly retired, empty-handed, from the presence of the pair. The Greylock carriage conveyed her back to Cats' Tavern, where, quietly, silently, she took up her daily tasks again, as if nothing had happened. Neither Mercy Poole nor Dr. Vandine tormented her with questions. The latter regarded Polly with a sort of puzzled approval.

"I see,” he said, "that you are determined to be a heroine. Brave, good child! Into what mäelstrom of peril will you throw yourself next?" Then his rugged face grew grave and sad. "Thank God that you had the courage to save her, Polly! She can never be anything to me," and he sighed heavily. "But all the same

I shall bless you for that deed as long as I live! I know some of the facts of the case. Her assailant was a rejected lover-poor devil! Of course he was mad; small wonder, too, since he had lost her."

A sickening pain struck to Polly's heart of hearts.

"Dr. Vandine," she answered, "you love Miss Greylock, and for that reason I am glad-glad that I received the blow meant for her. I owe you so much that the person who is dear to you must be dear to me also." "You owe me nothing!" he cried. "What nonsense

And she closed her eyes as if weary of the matter. Godfrey Greylock made an impatient movement. "This is an unfortunate affair," he said, haughtily. "It is not pleasant for my granddaughter to find herself indebted to anybody-especially to one so far below her own social station. I insist, girl, that you accept something which may be called a suitable recompense for the service you have rendered her. Take this"-he thrust a slip of paper into Polly's passive fingers-" and if you have friends in your own walk in life, consult them regarding the best use you can make of such a sum. Should you need further aid at any time in the future, you are at liberty to apply to me."

Polly looked not at the check, which represented more money than she had ever seen in her life, but at the disdainful old aristocrat who was seeking to overwhelm her with his generosity. Quietly, deliberately, she tore the slip of paper in pieces, and dropped it on the floor.

"If you please," she answered, in a low, firm voice, "I must have my own way about this thing, sir. I do not wish you to feel under obligations to me, neither will I take your money. You stare-but I do not want it. I will not have it. Forget the service I have done you. Heaven knows that I have no desire that you should remember it! And now be kind enough to let me say good-by to you and to Miss Greylock."

He was transfixed with angry amazement. That a nameless workgirl should dare assume that tone to him, and tear up his check and throw it, if not in his face, at least under his feet, was something too audacious for belief. But Ethel, on her embroidered pillows, opened her eyes with an amused smile.

"Ah, Polly, you are not lacking in pride or spirit! What is to be done with a person like you? Well, of course, you must have your own way. I will ask but one

heart to see you looking so pale and weak. Your brave spirit is held in a very frail body. As your physician, I command you to take care of yourself."

He did not dream of the exquisite misery he was inflicting upon her. Polly's secret passion was still a secret-he had never guessed it, he never would.

No steps were taken to apprehend Regnault. The whole matter was covered up as secretly and effectually as possible. Meanwhile Summer died. The great salt marshes lay brown and dim under the Autumn clouds, the winds began their Autumn riot upon the sea.

Up at Greylock Woods Ethel was now moving about the great house like a lovely ghost. Sometimes she walked the faded terraces, leaning on the arm of the old man who, having forgiven all her transgressions, seemed now to love her more than ever. Sometimes she rode beside him through the rusty woods, or down by the melancholy shore, with a shadow, not born of recent illness, upon her face. Flesh and strength returned to her-beauty returned, but still she was greatly changed. One unlucky day Dr. Vandine found the heiress of the Woods sitting at her piano, in the same room and by the very window where she had rejected Sir Gervase long weeks before. The resplendent peacock was again strutting upon the terrace outside. Wrinkled leaves fluttered, like birds, against the pane. In a voice as sweet as heaven, yet full of unshed tears, Miss Greylock was singing, as the doctor entered, these lines:

"She turned the ring upon her hand

The fields are heaped with rusty sheaves
The fickle swallows fly the eaves,
The black frost nips the pleasant land.
'My hopes are as the yellow leaves
That fill the faded garden spot,
My sad heart like the east wind grieves,
Because he cometh not!"