"She had a lover o'er the sea

God rest her 1-toll the passing bell.
Why Love in all his ways should be
So hard a master, who can tell ?"

Then he strode up to the piano.

There's a great deal of that unhealthy stuff written nowadays," he said, irritably. "Ah, I regret to see you looking so pale to-day, Miss Greylock! You are not progressing as well as I could wish."

Her hands fell listlessly from the keys.

haze tempered the afternoon light. No living thing moved anywhere in the wide paths, save the birds and squirrels. After these Chasseur and his fellow-canines barked and raced in vain distraction.

Ethel's spirits began to fall again. How strange it seemed to find life stripped of all its old brightness, the rose-tints gone, the fair promises of the future blotted out! Where was he this Autumn day-the lover whom she had driven from her side, even while she loved him? Still roaming the Far West, or back in his own ancestral manor across the sea? If he knew the truth he would

"Nothing more?"

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Her shocked, indignant look told him that his case was even more hopeless now than it had been months before. "Has not a man the right to sue twice-yes, twenty times, for the thing he most desires on earth ?" he cried out, rebelliously. But you need not speak-I have annoyed and agitated you for naught. You no longer need my services, and it will be better for me if I see you no Indeed, my only safety lies in keeping far from you.' She arose with dignity.

more.

"I am sure you are right, Dr. Vandine," she answered. "Do not come here again. More than this I need not say -less than this, would be mistaken kindness."

He went, and so Ethel was freed from all her lovers. She shed a few foolish tears, and then, determined to shake off the heaviness that oppressed her, she ordered her pony-carriage, and, attended by the dogs, went out for a drive through the Woods.

Not far from Rose Cottage, a woman appeared suddenly at the pony's head, and made a sign for Ethel to stop. "I'm glad to see you out again, Miss Fairy,” said Hannah Johnson, flashing one dark look over the dainty carriage and its occupant. "You're going to Rose Cottage, most likely ?"

"No," answered Ethel, briefly, contemptuously. Hannah Johnson grinned.

"La! And you haven't been to visit your dear mother since your sickness. How you do love her, to be sure! It's a beautiful thing to see parent and daughter so fond of each other."

The woman's tone jarred unpleasantly on Ethel's nerves. "Go on, Lancer," she said to the pony, for Lancer stirred not, for Hannah Johnson remained immovable at his head.

"Miss Fairy, I hear you've been at death's-door with brain fever, and a mixture of too many lovers." And she laughed, offensively. "The Old Mogul came near losing you, eh? Well, well! There are worse things in the world than death. It might have been better for you if you'd died of your disease. See if you don't say the same yourself before many weeks, miss !"

She bobbed a mocking courtesy and stepped aside. The pony went on his way. Ethel's heart beat fast with a sudden foreboding of evil. Then she smiled at her own weakness. The ignoble, impudent creature! It was absurd for the heiress of Greylock Woods to give one thought to her idle words.

to offer her, and she was barely eighteen !

Lancer jogged lazily on. The fair head of his driver drooped on her breast, her eyes absently followed the roll of the wheels over the brown earth. And so, when a tall gray figure swung suddenly into sight, coming up the drive from the direction of the entrance-gate, and all the dogs rushed toward it, yelping joyful recognition, Ethel, absorbed in her own meditations, saw nothing, heard nothing.

Nearer and nearer drew the figure, with the canines fawning around it. Directly a firm step paused by the wheel of the pony-carriage.

"Pardon !" said a voice that made Ethel's heart stand still. The tall gray apparition lifted his hat in the westering light.

She was once more face to face with Sir Gervase Greylock.

CHAPTER XXVI.

PLIGHTED.

THIS meeting nearly took her breath. He looked as brown and bold and grand as some soldier fresh from a victorious campaign. The reins dropped from Ethel's hold.

"This is a great surprise," she managed to say.

"I left the West some days ago," he answered, "and while waiting in Boston for the arrival of a member of our party, who had been unexpectedly detained in Chicago, I, by chance, heard of your late illness. Pardon me, I could not resist the temptation to run down to Blackport to express my regrets, and also to take a final leave of the relatives whom I shall probably never see again. To-morrow I sail for England."

She extended her hand over the side of the carriage. He clasped it eagerly. "How pale you are!" he said, searching her face with his keen tawny eyes. "It is plain that you have suffered. And I never dreamed that all was not going well with you here. News did not penetrate to the cañons of the Yellowstone."

She felt a thrill of guilty relief. Then he knew nothing about Regnault, or the affair at the salt-pits! Heaven grant that he would know nothing-at least, till he had bidden her farewell for ever.

"For the few moments that we are now permitted to remain together," she inwardly prayed, "let him still think of me as one above reproach!"

The dogs were leaping upon him rudely. Chasseur seemed determined to devour him alive. Sir Gervase smiled a little sadly as he submitted to the brute's ca

resses.

Miss Greylock? And your grandfather and Miss Pamela -are they well? Shall I find them at the villa ?"

She answered him with tolerable coherence. The blood by this time was coming back to her face. Lancer began to move on of his own accord, and Sir Gervase fell into place by the side of the pony-carriage, and so walked away to the villa, talking only of commonplace things. Godfrey Greylock and Miss Pam met the baronet with open arms he had no reason to complain of his welcome. But the twain looked grave when Sir Gervase announced how brief his visit was to be.

Like a man in a dream Sir Gervase arose from his chair and crossed the room to her side-drawn irresistibly, perhaps, by that regal shape-by the white shining of her face in the gloom.

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"Yes," answered the baronet, quietly. "Delays are always dangerous. I have now been absent from England for months. Several important reasons urge my immediate return."

Everybody avoided the subject of Ethel's illness. The elders were as anxious as Ethel herself that Sir Gervase should take his final leave of them in happy ignorance of what had passed since the rejection of his suit. Luckily the baronet asked no questions. His behavior was perfect. Whether or no he had recovered from his disappointment nobody could tell. His manner toward Ethel was courteous, quiet, unmoved.

She caught her breath curiously.

e

"I hear the carriage," she stammered, craning her fair neck toward the driveway.

66

"It is not yet in sight," he answered, with a touch of resentment; are you in haste to say good-by? I was angry with you when we last parted, Ethel. You had said some unjust things to me-do you remember ?" "Yes," she answered.

"I was angry, and I tried my best to forget you, out there in the wilds of the West. God knows how vain the effort was! You haunted me everywhere- by midnight camp-fires, in vast solitudes, in the depths of lonely cañons, in daylight, in darkness! And so I have brought

"Five o'clock !" she said to herself, as she looked at her watch, "and at nine the Boston express leaves Blackport. Four hours! and into them I must crowd all the happiness that is left to me. To-morrow is bankrupt-it holds no promise. I have just two hundred and forty minutes to live. After that I care not what happens!"

She put on a dress of black satin, bordered with grebe, and a Medici ruff of yellow Mechlin, out of which her snowy throat and pale face arose like a lily from its sheath. In her corsage she fastened a great bunch of red leaves. Her yellow hair, heaped in a mass of waves and curls, made a crown of sunshine to this sombre costume. She went down to the drawing-room with no flush, no tremor, but in her eyes burned a strange brilliancy.

The dinner passed like all others. We eat, we laugh, we talk of common things, even when our hearts are breaking, and every moment is big with fate.

The party arose from the table, at last, and went to Godfrey Greylock's library. How fast the moments were going! Ethel could have screamed aloud at this pitiless flight of time. Soon she would hear the carriage in the drive-it would stop at the door, then the last word must be spoken, the last look given. Her heart rose up in mad rebellion at the misery she had brought upon herself. Oh, if something would but happen! Oh, the dire necessity of keeping a smile on her lips, and light in her eyes, during this terrible hour, which, when it passed, was to take from her all earthly joy.

Something did happen. Aunt Pam, regardless of the baronet's presence, succumbed to an after-dinner doze in one of the deep chairs. At the same time Godfrey Greylock vanished suddenly behind a portière at the other end of the room. Ethel was alone with Sir Gervase, for Miss Pam, in her present condition, could not be called company.

She stood leaning against a glass door which opened on the terrace. Day died swiftly-a moon rose over the tree-tops-its light poured upon her satin dress and grebe feathers and yellow crown of hair. Without, the whole landscape lay dark in shadow-within, an ormolu clock on the mantel ticked the moments remorselessly away.

appointment, for which I can find no consolation-a dead hope, that leaves my future empty and dark."

Did you come to Blackport to-day to tell me this, Sir Gervase?"

"No," he answered, bitterly; why should I wish to torment you further? But you have forced the words from me, in spite of myself. I came to Blackport simply because I could not avoid it. A power as irresistible as death drew me hither for one last look at you."

The carriage is coming-it is here!" she gasped, as the horses' heads appeared in the moonlight below the terrace.

He held out his hand.

66

This time, at least," he said, in a shaken voice, "I do not part with you in anger. It was not your fault, but my misfortune, that you could not love me, Ethel! Your hand one moment-there, good-by!"

The strain upon her nerves had been grievous and prolonged. As his fingers closed about her own the moonlit terrace vanished, the dark, rich library swung round before her sight. She called his name once, and the next thing she knew strong arms were clasping her. Sir Gervase's kisses rained like fire on her face and hair.

"Ethel! Ethel !" he cried. "Is it possible that you care for me after all ?"

She dropped her face against his heart and sobbed.

"I have cared for you from the first day of your coming here. No, do not think that I tormented you for my own pleasure. I shall conceal nothing from you now—I shall tell you the miserable truth, even as I told grandpa, and when you know all you will despise me!"

His brown cheek pressed her white one.
"Darling, darling, what can you mean ?"

66

'Wait, listen! Gervase," she faltered, trying to hold him off, but failing ignobly, while she faltered forth her confession.

With great gravity, in perfect silence, he listened. When all had been told he gathered her still closer to his heart.

"Poor child!" he said, tenderly. "How wickedly you have been tormented! Ah, why did you not tell me your secret weeks ago? I might have helped you-I might have saved you from a part, at least, of this

After that no sound broke the silence of the library save the happy murmur of lovers' voices. Aunt Pam slept serenely on. The horses waited impatiently below the terrace; their trampling startled Ethel at last. "Oh," she faltered, "the carriage is still waiting! Will you go now?"

He smiled.

"I think not. I must crave your grandfather's hospitality a little longer. My plans for the future are now entirely changed. I shall not sail for England till I can take my wife with me. You owe me some recompense, Ethel, for what I have endured in the last two months, and I shall require it of you in the form of an early marriage-day."

A hand lifted the portière, and Godfrey Greylock stepped into the room. The attitude of the young pair seemed not to surprise him-he had had his own reasons for leaving them to each other. Sir Gervase led Ethel to her grandfather.

"She has told me everything," he said, simply, "and she has also promised to become my wife!"

Iris Greylock came up from Rose Cottage next day to congratulate her daughter. She put her arms around Ethel and kissed her effusively.

"My dear child," she cried, "what an unexpected turn of affairs! I am unspeakably glad that you are so well quit of your romantic, villainous Regnault. Let that experience be a lifelong lesson to you, foolish girl! And now, when are you going to marry your spotless Sir Galahad-I mean the baronet? Your grandfather sent word to me this morning that everything was arranged-such extraordinary condescension from my great enemy made me suspect that joy had turned his head."

"You are quite equal to the position, love. These English marriages are getting to be everyday affairs with American girls in good society. The first week in December!" with an anxious knitting of her faded brows. "I wish it was even sooner. I long to see you well settled in life."

She tapped the carpet with her sound foot. Ethel was secretly wondering what it was that made her mother look so worn and old this morning. Presently the truth broke from Mrs. Iris.

"I have had auther tiff with Hannah Johnson, my dear. Six months ago I doubled her wages, and to-day she had the impudence to demand another increase." "Of course you discharged her at once," said Ethel, dryly.

Mrs. Iris glanced askance at her daughter, then frowned. "Do not be absurd, Ethel. I have explained to you again and again that I cannot get on without Hannah. I must keep her-I really have no choice in the matter.

life is becoming a burden to me. I envy you because you will soon be far away from-from-this place and everybody in it. And then your prospects! What girl could ask for brighter ones? Godfrey Greylock cannot last much longer, and you are sure to come in for his entire fortune. Ah! you must remember me then, Ethel ! You were certainly born under a lucky star. But never forget that you owe everything, even your titled English husband, to my shrewd management, child.'

"I will not forget, mamma," replied Ethel, rather wearily.

There was small danger of such a catastrophe while Mrs. Iris had a tongue. After a pause the elder woman asked, abruptly:

"Ethel, what has become of Regnault ?"

Ethel started, shuddered.

"Mamma, how should I know

"What! have you heard nothing from him, nor of him, since that night at the pits ?" "Nothing."

"Well, I hope he will give you no further trouble; but you need not feel quite sure about it. He is a man without heart or conscience—that is," hastily, "of course he must be, from the manner in which he has treated you."

Regnault! Only with dread and aversion could Ethel think of him now. Whither had he fled? She did not know nor care. It was certain that he had no further power to harm her, since she herself had revealed everything to her nearest and dearest. She was so sheltered now, so hedged about by love and care, that surely he would never dare to approach her again. The Autumn days went on, full of the light that never was on land nor sea. All her life long Ethel would remember this time of perfect tranquillity. Wonderful tints of crimson and gold filled the woods. The winds breathed balm, purple hues clung to the sea and the marshes; marvelous light hovered over the paths where she walked with-her lover, her life, her king. He was constantly at her side, and the villa rang with preparations for such a wedding as Blackport had never known before. Verily, Ethel was happy in these days! Every cloud had vanished from her horizon, the past was covered up, the present seemed a paradise, the future dazzled her with its radiant promises. And all the while, alas! a tempest darker than death itself was gathering over the unconscious heiress of Greylock Woods.

One night Sir Gervase took fond leave of his betrothed in the great hall, and stepped out upon the terrace to smoke a solitary cigar before going to bed. It was November now, frosty and cold. The leafless chestnuts raised skeleton arms in the midst of the evergreens. The imposing villa looked higher and darker than ever on its grand knoll. He could almost fancy that both house and woods knew of their impending loss, and that, in consequence, they had already assumed a dejected air. She was going with him to a new home across the sea, and the places of which she was the pride, the light, the crowning glory, would know her no more.

"Sir Gervase Greylock !" said a voice. The figure of a woman, in shawl and hood, leaped suddenly up at the far end of the terrace, and advanced toward the baronet. "I've something to say to you, sir," she began, with a deprecatory gesture.

He flung down his cigar.

"Who are you?" he demanded

"A friend," said the woman.

"That is good, but indefinite. I must trouble you to be more explicit."

As he approached the figure it immediately made an alarmed retrograde movement.

"Never mind who I am," she stammered; "it is enough for you to know, sir, that I've something of great importance to tell you."

"Concerning what?"

"The girl you are going to marry-Miss Greylock." "Ah!" said the baronet, dryly; "this is too mysterious by far! Upon such a subject no stranger can possibly have anything to say to me which I could wish to hear." "Don't be too sure of that."

He turned on his heel. She ran after him. "Stop, sir! You're very particular! Well, since you must know, you've seen me before, on shipboard and at Rose Cottage. I belong to the household of Mrs. Greylock."

Reluctantly she pushed back her hood, and revealed the sullen, dark face of Hannah Johnson. It was a full moment before he recognized her.

"I remember," he said, at last. "You are Mrs. Greylock's maid."

"Yes, that's what I'm called. I've lived with Mrs. Greylock for years and years. What I don't known about her and Miss Fairy ain't worth the knowing, sir!" He stared coldly.

"They haven't treated me right, those two," she went on. "I hate them both! Moreover, I don't like to see anybody walking blindfolded into a trap. I'm English born myself, though perhaps you wouldn't guess it, and I know the pride of men like you, Sir Gervase Greylock. You'd rather die than be hoodwinked, victimized, disgraced. Then take my advice and leave the Woods tomorrow, and everybody and everything here, and go back, as fast as wind and tide and steam will carry you, to England!"

At last he understood the drift of her talk. "That will do," he said, sternly.

to you further!"

"I decline to listen

"Sir, I've a whole history to tell you haven't heard a word of it yet, and it concerns you more than anybody else. You'd better let me go on."

"Not a syllable more !" he answered. "Do not dare to mention Miss Greylock's name to me. I advise your mistress to look after you a little closer, since it is plain that you are scarcely a servant to be trusted." She was furious at this repulse.

"And so you will not stoop to take a warning from such as me, sir ?" she hissed.

"Assuredly not," he answered, with cold disdain. "Then," she cried, fiercely, "I swear to you, Sir Gervase Greylock, that the hour will come when you'll be forced to listen, whether you like or not! Your weddingday is set, all goes well with your love affair, but bear this in mind-never, on this side of the grave, will you marry Ethel Greylock !"

With this Hannah Johnson turned and vanished down the terrace.

CHAPTER XXVII.

POLLY SPEAKS.

THE Winter closed in early, an old-fashioned New England Winter. Tremendous storms swept the coast. Night after night I lay in my chamber at Cats' Tavern, and heard the rafters rock and the old windows shake with the violence of the gales. Blackport harbor was locked in ice, vessels went by sheathed in rattling mail. Snow covered the marshes, and spread a white desolation over the town, which had grown very dull and silent after the flight of its Summer population.

His

In fair weather and foul Dr. Vandine was abroad. practice had rapidly increased. Throughout Blackport, and in adjacent towns also, he was constantly in demand. We saw but little of him at the inn, and even when there he was always shut up with his books, always absorbed and silent. Perhaps it was this continual labor which made him look so grave and changed. Indeed, he began to seem like a stranger to me.

The hurts that I had received from Regnault's knife at the pits still troubled me. I did not gain flesh or strength, and I was often weary and depressed.

One day, while toiling up the inn-stairs with a basket of fuel for one of the guest's chambers, I was overtaken suddenly by Dr. Vandine. He snatched the burden from my hand and carried it himself to the room above.

"No more of this, Polly," he said, sternly. "Do you want the wound in your side to re-open? You must do no hard work at present. Mercy Poole assured me she would not require it of you." "But I cannot re

"And she does not," I answered. ceive full wages at the inn and not work.” You see, Mercy Poole had paid me for all the time of my absence at Greylock Woods-not a cent had she deducted from my weekly dues, and I thought it wonderful generosity, for Mercy loved money, and though kind to her help, she exacted from them all that was her lawful right.

"I shall not

"Never mind that," said the doctor. allow you to kill yourself before my eyes. I have settled your affairs with Mercy Poole-that is," hastily, "she knows that you must rest until you have regained your strength. If you go about, getting the knife-wounds intended for other people, and losing, in consequence, the wages of two or three months, how will you ever accumulate money enough to begin the search for your lost sister-the Nan, of whom, by-the-way, I have not heard you speak of late. Are the distractions of Blackport driving her, at last, from your memory, Polly ?" My heart thumped violently.

No," I faltered; "oh, no !"

"And you haven't abandoned your original design of finding her, eh?" he urged.

I did not answer. I was thinking of what he had said about my wages. Suddenly it burst upon me that he was at the bottom of Mercy Poole's generosity, and that from his pocket, and not hers, my full pay for the last two months had come! Besides all this, he had absolutely refused to accept anything from me for professional services.

"You always called me sharp, Dr. Vandine," I flashed out, "and so I am-at least, sharp enough to see what you have done. And I do not like it-I cannot bear it

oh, I cannot bear it !"

He put on a highly aggrieved air. "Look here, Polly-no nonsense! For years I have regarded you as something belonging to myself. Have I not tried again and again to keep you out of an untimely grave? Didn't I consign you to that mob of Steeles, who drudged you nearly to death? and wasn't it I who brought you down here to Blackport, where the knife of a ruffian all but made an end of you at once? Are these the favors you cannot bear, Polly? Poor, deluded child. I never did a decent thing for you in my life! You are under no more obligations to me than to the man in the moon; but wait!" His brown face lighted up with some of its old, gay glow. "Heaven knows, Polly, I would fain have helped you to better fortune long ago; but the fact is, I never, at any one time, possessed five dollars that I could honestly call my own. Impecuniosity has