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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The American Baron, by James De Mille,
+Illustrated by William Ludwell Sheppard
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The American Baron
+
+
+Author: James De Mille
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 17, 2007  [eBook #13257]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN BARON***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Keith M. Eckrich, Curtis Weyant, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) and
+revised by Louise Hope using page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
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+
+
+THE AMERICAN BARON.
+
+A Novel.
+
+by
+
+JAMES DE MILLE,
+
+Author of
+"The Dodge Club," "The Cryptogram," "Cord and Creese," &c.
+
+With Illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+"AND AS THEY STOOD THE CLERGYMEN SLOWLY CAME OUT OF THE HOUSE"
+--(SEE PAGE 132.)]
+
+
+
+NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
+FRANKLIN SQUARE.
+1872.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+By PROF. JAMES DE MILLE.
+
+     _THE DODGE CLUB_; or, Italy in 1859. Illustrated. 8vo,
+     Paper, 75 cents; Cloth, $1.25.
+
+     _CORD AND CREESE_. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, 75
+     cents; Cloth, $1.25.
+
+     _THE CRYPTOGRAM_. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, $1.50;
+     Cloth, $2.00.
+
+     _THE AMERICAN BARON_. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper.
+
+Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
+
+_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on
+receipt of the price._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
+HARPER & BROTHERS,
+In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
+
+
+
+
+THE AMERICAN BARON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "PARDON, MEES."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE AVALANCHE.
+
+
+Somewhat less than a hundred years ago a party of travelers might have
+been seen crossing over the Simplon Road, _en route_ for Italy. They
+had been detained at Brieg by reports that the road was impassable;
+and, as it was the month of March, the prospect of snow and storms and
+avalanches was sufficient to make them hesitate. At length the road
+had been reopened, and they were informed that the journey might be
+made on sleds.
+
+Unwilling to wait at Brieg, and equally unwilling to make a detour so
+as to take the railroad, the party decided to go on. They were
+informed that they could go on wheels as far as the line of snow, but
+that afterward their accommodations would not be so comfortable as
+they might desire. The road had been cleared for only a few feet; the
+snow was deep; the sleds were rude; and progress would be slow. These
+statements, however, did not shake the resolution of the party;
+and the end of it was that they determined to go on, and cross the
+mountain if it were possible.
+
+On leaving Brieg the road began to ascend with a very slight incline,
+winding around in an intricate sort of way, sometimes crossing deep
+gullies, at other times piercing the hillside in long dark tunnels;
+but amidst all these windings ever ascending, so that every step took
+them higher and higher above the little valley where Brieg lay. The
+party saw also that every step brought them steadily nearer to the
+line of snow; and at length they found the road covered with a thin
+white layer. Over this they rolled, and though the snow became deeper
+with every furlong of their progress, yet they encountered but little
+actual difficulty until they approached the first station where the
+horses were to be changed. Here they came to a deep drift. Through
+this a pathway had been cleared, so that there was no difficulty about
+going through; but the sight of this served to show them what might be
+expected further on, and to fill them all with grave doubts as to the
+practicability of a journey which was thus interrupted so early.
+
+On reaching the station these doubts were confirmed. They were
+informed that the road had been cleared for sleds on the preceding
+day, but that on the previous night fresh snow had fallen, and in such
+quantities that the road would have to be cleared afresh. The worst of
+it was that there was every probability of new snow-storms, which
+would cover the road still deeper, and once more obliterate the track.
+This led to a fresh debate about the journey; but they were all
+unwilling to turn back. Only a few miles separated them from Domo
+d'Ossola, and they were assured that, if no fresh snow should fall,
+they would be able to start on the following morning. This last
+assurance once more confirmed their wavering resolution, and they
+concluded to wait at the station.
+
+For the remainder of that day they waited at the little way-side inn,
+amusing themselves with looking out upon their surroundings. They were
+environed by a scene of universal white. Above them towered vast
+Alpine summits, where the wild wind blew, sweeping the snow-wreaths
+into the air. In front was a deep ravine, at the bottom of which there
+ran a torrent that foamed and tossed over rocks and boulders. It was
+not possible to take a walk to any distance. Their boots were made for
+lighter purposes than plunging through snow-drifts; and so they were
+forced to remain indoors, and pass the time as best they could.
+
+On the following morning they found every thing in readiness for a
+start. In front of the inn they saw five sleds of that kind which is
+universally used in the northern part of America. Each sled was of the
+rudest possible construction, and was drawn by one horse; straw was
+spread over the sled, upon which fur robes and blankets were flung.
+The party was distributed among these sleds, so that each one should
+have as light a load as possible, while one of the rude vehicles
+carried the luggage.
+
+Thus arranged, they all started off. And now, since they are all
+fairly under way, I propose to introduce them, individually and
+collectively, to my very good friend the reader.
+
+First of all I must mention the fact that the party consisted chiefly
+of ladies and their attendants.
+
+Of these the most prominent was a slim, tall, elderly lady, with
+large, dark, soft eyes, that spoke of a vanished youth and beauty from
+her heavily wrinkled face. She was the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, and
+acted toward the rest of the party in the multifarious capacity of
+chaperon, general, courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor.
+
+Next came Mrs. Willoughby, a widow of great beauty and fascination, a
+brunette, good-natured, clever, and shrewd. I might here pause, and go
+into no end of raptures on the various qualities of this lady's
+character; but, on the whole, I think I'd better not, as they will be
+sufficiently apparent before the end of this story is reached.
+
+Then there was Miss Minnie Fay, sister to Mrs. Willoughby, and utterly
+unlike her in every respect. Minnie was a blonde, with blue eyes,
+golden hair cut short and clustering about her little head, little bit
+of a mouth, with very red, plump lips, and very white teeth. Minnie
+was very small, and very elegant in shape, in gesture, in dress, in
+every attitude and every movement. The most striking thing about her,
+however, was the expression of her eyes and her face. There was about
+her brow the glory of perfect innocence. Her eyes had a glance of
+unfathomable melancholy, mingled with childlike trust in the
+particular person upon whom her gaze was fastened. Minnie was
+considered by all her friends as a child--was treated as a
+child--humored, petted, coaxed, indulged, and talked to as a child.
+Minnie, on her part, thought, spoke, lived, moved, and acted as a
+child. She fretted, she teased, she pouted, she cried, she did every
+thing as a child does; and thus carried up to the age of eighteen the
+bloom and charm of eight.
+
+The two sisters were nieces of the Dowager Lady Dalrymple. Another
+niece also accompanied them, who was a cousin of the two sisters. This
+was Miss Ethel Orne, a young lady who had flourished through a London
+season, and had refused any number of brilliant offers. She was a
+brunette, with most wonderful dark eyes, figure of perfect grace, and
+an expression of grave self-poise that awed the butterflies of
+fashion, but offered an irresistible attraction to people of sense,
+intellect, intelligence, esprit, and all that sort of thing--like you
+and me, my boy.
+
+I am taking up too much time and anticipating somewhat, I fear, by
+these descriptions; so let us drop Miss Ethel.
+
+These ladies being thus all related formed a family party, and had
+made the journey thus far on the best of terms, without any other
+escort than that which was afforded by their chaperon, general,
+courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor--the Dowager Lady
+Dalrymple.
+
+The party was enlarged by the presence of four maids and a foreign
+gentleman. This last-mentioned personage was small in stature, with a
+very handsome face and very brilliant eyes. His frame, though slight,
+was sinewy and well knit, and he looked like an Italian. He had come
+on alone, and had passed the night at the station-house.
+
+A track about six feet wide had been cut out through the snow, and
+over this they passed. The snow was soft, and the horses sank deep, so
+that progress was slow. Nor was the journey without the excitement of
+apparent danger. At times before them and behind them there would come
+a low, rumbling sound, and they would see a mass of snow and ice
+rushing down some neighboring slope. Some of these fell on the road,
+and more than once they had to quit their sleds and wait for the
+drivers to get them over the heaps that had been formed across their
+path. Fortunately, however, none of these came near them; and Minnie
+Fay, who at first had screamed at intervals of about five minutes,
+gradually gained confidence, and at length changed her mood so
+completely that she laughed and clapped her little hands whenever she
+saw the rush of snow and ice. Thus slowly, yet in safety, they pushed
+onward, and at length reached the little village of Simplon. Here they
+waited an hour to warm themselves, lunch, and change horses. At the
+end of that time they set out afresh, and once more they were on their
+winding way.
+
+They had now the gratification of finding that they were descending
+the slope, and of knowing that this descent took them every minute
+further from the regions of snow, and nearer to the sunny plains of
+Italy. Minnie in particular gave utterance to her delight: and now,
+having lost every particle of fear, she begged to be allowed to drive
+in the foremost sled. Ethel had been in it thus far, but she willingly
+changed places with Minnie, and thus the descent was made.
+
+The sleds and their occupants were now arranged in the following
+order:
+
+First, Minnie Fay alone with the driver.
+
+Second, Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel.
+
+Third, the Dowager and her maid.
+
+Fourth, the three other maids.
+
+Fifth, the luggage.
+
+After these five sleds, containing our party, came another with the
+foreign gentleman.
+
+Each of these sleds had a driver to itself.
+
+In this order the party went, until at length they came to the Gorge
+of Gondo. This is a narrow valley, the sides of which rise up very
+abruptly, and in some places precipitously, to a great height. At the
+bottom flows a furious torrent, which boils and foams and roars as it
+forces its impetuous way onward over fallen masses of rock and trees
+and boulders, at one time gathering into still pools, at other times
+roaring into cataracts. Their road had been cut out on the side of the
+mountain, and the path had been cleared away here many feet above the
+buried road; and as they wound along the slope they could look up at
+the stupendous heights above them, and down at the abyss beneath them,
+whose white snow-covering was marked at the bottom by the black line
+of the roaring torrent. The smooth slope of snow ran down as far as
+the eye could reach at a steep angle, filling up all crevices, with
+here and there a projecting rock or a dark clump of trees to break its
+surface.
+
+The road was far beneath them. The drivers had informed them that it
+was forty feet deep at the top of the pass, and that its depth here
+was over thirty. Long poles which were inserted in the snow projected
+above its surface, and served to mark where the road ran.
+
+Here, then, they drove along, feeling wearied with the length of the
+way, impatient at the slowness of their progress, and eager to reach
+their journey's end. But little was said. All had talked till all were
+tired out. Even Minnie Fay, who at first had evinced great enthusiasm
+on finding herself leading the way, and had kept turning back
+constantly to address remarks to her friends, had at length subsided,
+and had rolled herself up more closely in her furs, and heaped the
+straw higher about her little feet.
+
+Suddenly, before them, and above them, and behind them, and all around
+them, there arose a deep, low, dull, rushing sound, which seemed as if
+all the snow on the slope was moving. Their ears had by this time
+become sufficiently well acquainted with the peculiar sound of the
+rushing snow-masses to know that this was the noise that heralded
+their progress, and to feel sure that this was an avalanche of no
+common size. Yes, this was an avalanche, and every one heard it; but
+no one could tell where it was moving, or whether it was near or far,
+or whether it was before or behind. They only knew that it was
+somewhere along the slope which they were traversing.
+
+A warning cry came from the foremost driver. He looked back, and his
+face was as pale as death. He waved his hands above him, and then
+shouting for the others to follow, he whipped up his horse furiously.
+The animal plunged into the snow, and tossed and floundered and made a
+rush onward.
+
+But the other drivers held back, and, instead of following, shouted to
+the first driver to stop, and cried to the passengers to hold on. Not
+a cry of fear escaped from any one of the ladies. All did as they were
+directed, and grasped the stakes of their sleds, looking up at the
+slope with white lips, and expectation of horror in their eyes,
+watching for the avalanche.
+
+And down it came, a vast mass of snow and ice--down it came,
+irresistibly, tremendously, with a force that nothing could withstand.
+All eyes watched its progress in the silence of utter and helpless
+terror. It came. It struck. All the sleds in the rear escaped, but
+Minnie's sled lay in the course of the falling mass. The driver had
+madly rushed into the very midst of the danger which he sought to
+avoid. A scream from Minnie and a cry of despair from the driver burst
+upon the ears of the horrified listeners, and the sled that bore them,
+buried in the snow, went over the edge of the slope, and downward to
+the abyss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE PERILOUS DESCENT.
+
+
+The shriek of Minnie and the driver's cry of despair were both stopped
+abruptly by the rush of snow, and were smothered in the heap under
+which they were buried. The whole party stood paralyzed, gazing
+stupidly downward where the avalanche was hurrying on to the abyss,
+bearing with it the ill-fated Minnie. The descent was a slope of
+smooth snow, which went down at an angle of forty-five degrees for at
+least a thousand feet. At that point there seemed to be a precipice.
+As their aching eyes watched the falling mass they saw it approach
+this place, and then as it came near the whole avalanche seemed to
+divide as though it had been severed by some projecting rock. It
+divided thus, and went to ruin; while in the midst of the ruin they
+saw the sled, looking like a helpless boat in the midst of foaming
+breakers. So, like such a helpless boat, it was dashed forward, and
+shot out of sight over the precipice.
+
+Whither had it gone? Into what abyss had it fallen? What lay beneath
+that point over which it had been thrown? Was it the fierce torrent
+that rolled there, or were there black rocks and sharp crags lying at
+the foot of the awful precipice? Such were the questions which flashed
+through every mind, and deepened the universal horror into universal
+despair.
+
+In the midst of this general dismay Ethel was the first to speak and
+to act. She started to her feet, and looking back, called in a loud
+voice:
+
+"Go down after her! A thousand pounds to the man who saves her!
+Quick!"
+
+At this the drivers came forward. None of them could understand
+English, and so had not comprehended her offer; but they saw by her
+gestures what she wanted. They, however, did not seem inclined to act.
+They pointed down, and pointed up, and shook their heads, and jabbered
+some strange, unintelligible patois.
+
+"Cowards!" cried Ethel, "to leave a young girl to die. I will go down
+myself."
+
+And then, just as she was, she stepped from the sled, and paused for a
+moment, looking down the slope as though selecting a place. Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby screamed to her to come back, and the
+drivers surrounded her with wild gesticulations. To all this she paid
+no attention whatever, and would certainly have gone down in another
+moment had not a hand been laid on her arm, and a voice close by her
+said, with a strong foreign accent,
+
+"Mees!"
+
+She turned at once.
+
+It was the foreign gentleman who had been driving behind the party. He
+had come up and had just reached the place. He now stood before her
+with his hat in one hand and the other hand on his heart.
+
+"Pardon, mees," he said, with a bow. "Eet is too periloss. I sall go
+down eef you 'low me to mak ze attemp."
+
+"Oh, monsieur," cried Ethel, "save her if you can!"
+
+"Do not fear. Be calm. I sall go down. Nevare mine."
+
+The stranger now turned to the drivers, and spoke to them in their own
+language. They all obeyed at once. He was giving them explicit
+directions in a way that showed a perfect command of the situation. It
+now appeared that each sled had a coil of rope, which was evidently
+supplied from an apprehension of some such accident as this. Hastily
+yet dextrously the foreign gentleman took one of these coils, and then
+binding a blanket around his waist, he passed the rope around this, so
+that it would press against the blanket without cutting him. Having
+secured this tightly, he gave some further directions to the drivers,
+and then prepared to go down.
+
+Hitherto the drivers had acted in sullen submission rather than with
+ready acquiescence. They were evidently afraid of another avalanche;
+and the frequent glances which they threw at the slope above them
+plainly showed that they expected this snow to follow the example of
+the other. In spite of themselves an expression of this fear escaped
+them, and came to the ears of the foreign gentleman. He turned at once
+on the brink of the descent, and burst into a torrent of invective
+against them. The ladies could not understand him, but they could
+perceive that he was uttering threats, and that the men quailed before
+him. He did not waste any time, however. After reducing the men to a
+state of sulky submission, he turned once more and began the descent.
+
+As he went down the rope was held by the men, who allowed it to pass
+through their hands so as to steady his descent. The task before the
+adventurer was one of no common difficulty. The snow was soft, and at
+every step he sank in at least to his knees. Frequently he came to
+treacherous places, where he sank down above his waist, and was only
+able to scramble out with difficulty. But the rope sustained him; and
+as his progress was downward, he succeeded in moving with some
+rapidity toward his destination. The ladies on the height above sat in
+perfect silence, watching the progress of the man who was thus
+descending with his life in his hand to seek and to save their lost
+companion, and in the intensity of their anxiety forgot utterly about
+any danger to themselves, though from time to time there arose the
+well-known sound of sliding masses, not so far away but that under
+other circumstances of less anxiety it might have filled them with
+alarm. But now there was no alarm for themselves.
+
+And now the stranger was far down, and the coil of rope was well-nigh
+exhausted. But this had been prepared for, and the drivers fastened
+this rope to another coil, and after a time began to let out that one
+also.
+
+Farther and farther down the descent went on. They saw the stranger
+pursuing his way still with unfaltering resolution; and they sent
+after him all their hearts and all their prayers. At last he plunged
+down almost out of sight, but the next moment he emerged, and then,
+after a few leaps, they saw that he had gained the place where lay the
+ruins of the shattered avalanche. Over this he walked, sometimes
+sinking, at other times running and leaping, until at length he came
+to the precipice over which the sled had been flung.
+
+And now the suspense of the ladies became terrible. This was the
+critical moment. Already his eyes could look down upon the mystery
+that lay beneath that precipice. And what lay revealed there? Did his
+eyes encounter a spectacle of horror? Did they gaze down into the
+inaccessible depths of some hideous abyss? Did they see those jagged
+rocks, those sharp crags, those giant boulders, those roaring billows,
+which, in their imaginations, had drawn down their lost companion to
+destruction? Such conjectures were too terrible. Their breath failed
+them, and their hearts for a time almost ceased to beat as they sat
+there, overcome by such dread thoughts as these.
+
+Suddenly a cry of delight escaped Ethel. She was kneeling down beside
+Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby, with her eyes staring from her
+pallid face, when she saw the stranger turn and look up. He took off
+his hat, and waved it two or three times. Then he beckoned to the
+drivers. Then he sat down and prepared to let himself over the
+precipice. This incident inspired hope. It did more. It gave a
+moment's confidence, and the certainty that all was not lost. They
+looked at each other, and wept tears of joy. But soon that momentary
+hope vanished, and uncertainty returned. After all, what did the
+stranger's gesture mean? He might have seen her--but how? He might
+reach her, but would she be safe from harm? Could such a thing be
+hoped for? Would she not, rather, be all marred and mutilated? Dared
+they hope for any thing better? They dared not. And now they sat once
+more, as sad as before, and their short-lived gleam of hope faded
+away.
+
+They saw the stranger go over the precipice.
+
+Then he disappeared.
+
+The rope was let out for a little distance, and then stopped. Then
+more went out. Then it stopped again.
+
+The rope now lay quite loose. There was no tension.
+
+What was the meaning of this? Was he clinging to the side of the
+precipice? Impossible. It looked rather as though he had reached some
+place where he was free to move, and had no further need of descent.
+And it seemed as though the precipice might not be so deep or so
+fearful as they had supposed.
+
+In a short time their eyes were greeted by the appearance of the
+stranger above the precipice. He waved his hat again. Then he made
+some gestures, and detached the rope from his person. The drivers
+understood him as if this had been preconcerted. Two of them instantly
+unharnessed the horse from one of the sleds, while the others pulled
+up the rope which the stranger had cast off. Then the latter
+disappeared once more behind the precipice. The ladies watched now in
+deep suspense; inclining to hope, yet dreading the worst. They saw the
+drivers fasten the rope to the sled, and let it down the slope. It was
+light, and the runners were wide. It did not sink much, but slid down
+quite rapidly. Once or twice it stuck, but by jerking it back it was
+detached, and went on as before. At last it reached the precipice at a
+point not more than a hundred feet from where the stranger had last
+appeared.
+
+And now as they sat there, reduced once more to the uttermost
+extremity of suspense, they saw a sight which sent a thrill of rapture
+through their aching hearts. They saw the stranger come slowly above
+the precipice, and then stop, and stoop, and look back. Then they
+saw--oh, Heavens! who was that? Was not that her red hood--and that
+figure who thus slowly emerged from behind the edge of the precipice
+which had so long concealed her--that figure! Was it possible? Not
+dead--not mangled, but living, moving, and, yes--wonder of
+wonders--scaling a precipice! Could it be! Oh joy! Oh bliss! Oh
+revulsion from despair! The ladies trembled and shivered, and laughed
+and sobbed convulsively, and wept in one another's arms by turns.
+
+As far as they could see through the tears that dimmed their eyes,
+Minnie could not be much injured. She moved quite lightly over the
+snow, as the stranger led her toward the sled; only sinking once or
+twice, and then extricating herself even more readily than her
+companion. At last she reached the sled, and the stranger, taking off
+the blanket that he had worn under the rope, threw it over her
+shoulders.
+
+Then he signaled to the men above, and they began to pull up the sled.
+The stranger climbed up after it through the deep snow, walking behind
+it for some distance. At last he made a despairing gesture to the men,
+and sank down.
+
+The men looked bewildered, and stopped pulling.
+
+The stranger started up, and waved his hands impatiently, pointing to
+Minnie.
+
+The drivers began to pull once more at the sled, and the stranger once
+more sank exhausted in the snow.
+
+At this Ethel started up.
+
+"That noble soul!" she cried; "that generous heart! See! he is saving
+Minnie, and sitting down to die in the snow!"
+
+She sprang toward the men, and endeavored to make them do something.
+By her gestures she tried to get two of the men to pull at the sled,
+and the third man to let the fourth man down with a rope to the
+stranger. The men refused; but at the offer of her purse, which was
+well filled with gold, they consented. Two of them then pulled at the
+sled, and number four bound the rope about him, and went down, while
+number three held the rope. He went down without difficulty, and
+reached the stranger. By this time Minnie had been drawn to the top,
+and was clasped in the arms of her friends.
+
+But now the strength and the sense which had been so wonderfully
+maintained gave way utterly; and no sooner did she find herself safe
+than she fell down unconscious.
+
+They drew her to a sled, and tenderly laid her on the straw, and
+lovingly and gently they tried to restore her, and call her back to
+consciousness. But for a long time their efforts were of no avail.
+
+She lay there a picture of perfect loveliness, as beautiful as a
+dream--like some child-angel. Her hair, frosted with snow dust,
+clustered in golden curls over her fair white brow; her little hands
+were folded meekly over her breast; her sweet lips were parted, and
+disclosed the pearly teeth; the gentle eyes no longer looked forth
+with their piteous expression of mute appeal; and her hearing was deaf
+to the words of love and pity that were lavished upon her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE CHILD-ANGEL AND HER WOES.
+
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was in her room at the hotel in Milan, when the door
+opened, and Minnie came in. She looked around the room, drew a long
+breath, then locked the door, and flinging herself upon a sofa, she
+reclined there in silence for some time, looking hard at the ceiling.
+Mrs. Willoughby looked a little surprised at first; but after waiting
+a few moments for Minnie to say something, resumed her reading, which
+had been interrupted.
+
+"Kitty," said Minnie at last.
+
+"What?" said her sister, looking up.
+
+"I think you're horrid."
+
+"Why, what's the matter?"
+
+"Why, because when you see and know that I'm dying to speak to you,
+you go on reading that wretched book."
+
+"Why, Minnie darling," said Mrs. Willoughby, "how in the world was I
+to know that you wanted to speak to me?"
+
+"You _might_ have known," said Minnie, with a pout--"you saw me look
+all round, and lock the door; and you saw how worried I looked, and I
+think it a shame, and I've a great mind not to tell you any thing
+about it."
+
+"About it--what _it_?" and Mrs. Willoughby put down her book, and
+regarded her sister with some curiosity.
+
+"I've a great mind not to tell you, but I can't help it. Besides, I'm
+dying to ask your advice. I don't know what to do; and I wish I was
+dead--there!"
+
+"My poor Minnie! what _is_ the matter? You're _so_ incoherent."
+
+"Well, Kitty, it's all my accident."
+
+"Your accident!"
+
+"Yes; on the Alps, you know."
+
+"What! You haven't received any serious injury, have you?" asked Mrs.
+Willoughby, with some alarm.
+
+"Oh! I don't mean that, but I'll tell you what I mean;" and here
+Minnie got up from her reclining position, and allowed her little feet
+to touch the carpet, while she fastened her great, fond, pleading,
+piteous eyes upon her sister.
+
+"It's the Count, you know," said she.
+
+"The Count!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, somewhat dryly. "Well?"
+
+"Well--don't you know what I mean? Oh, how stupid you are!"
+
+"I really can not imagine."
+
+"Well--he--he--he pro--proposed, you know."
+
+"Proposed!" cried the other, in a voice of dismay.
+
+"Now, Kitty, if you speak in that horrid way I won't say another word.
+I'm worried too much already, and I don't want you to scold me. And I
+won't have it."
+
+"Minnie darling, I wish you would tell me something. I'm not scolding.
+I merely wish to know what you mean. Do you really mean that the Count
+has proposed to you?"
+
+"Of course that's what I mean."
+
+"What puzzles me is, how he could have got the chance. It's more than
+a week since he saved you, and we all felt deeply grateful to him. But
+saving a girl's life doesn't give a man any claim over her; and we
+don't altogether like him; and so we all have tried, in a quiet way,
+without hurting his feelings, you know, to prevent him from having any
+acquaintance with you."
+
+"Oh, I know, I know," said Minnie, briskly. "He told me all that. He
+understands that; but he doesn't care, he says, if _I_ only consent.
+He will forgive _you_, he says."
+
+Minnie's volubility was suddenly checked by catching her sister's eye
+fixed on her in new amazement.
+
+"Now you're beginning to be horrid," she cried. "Don't, don't--"
+
+"Will you have the kindness to tell me," said Mrs. Willoughby, very
+quietly, "how in the world the Count contrived to tell you all this?"
+
+"Why--why--several times."
+
+"Several times!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me where?"
+
+"Why, once at the amphitheatre. You were walking ahead, and I sat down
+to rest, and he came and joined me. He left before you came back."
+
+"He must have been following us, then."
+
+"Yes. And another time in the picture-gallery; and yesterday in a
+shop; and this morning at the Cathedral."
+
+"The Cathedral!"
+
+"Yes, Kitty. You know we all went, and Lady Dalrymple would not go up.
+So Ethel and I went up. And when we got up to the top I walked about,
+and Ethel sat down to admire the view. And, you know, I found myself
+off at a little distance, when suddenly I saw Count Girasole. And
+then, you know, he--he--proposed."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby sat silent for some time.
+
+"And what did you say to him?" she asked at length.
+
+"Why, what else could I say?"
+
+"What else than _what_?"
+
+"I don't see why you should act _so_ like a grand inquisitor, Kitty.
+You really make me feel quite nervous," said Minnie, who put her
+little rosy-tipped fingers to one of her eyes, and attempted a sob,
+which turned out a failure.
+
+"Oh, I only asked you what you told him, you know."
+
+"Well," said Minnie, gravely, "I told him, you know, that I was
+awfully grateful to him, and that I'd give any thing if I could to
+express my gratitude. And then, you know--oh, he speaks such darling
+broken English--he called me his 'mees,' and tried to make a pretty
+speech, which was so mixed with Italian that I didn't understand one
+single word. By-the-way, Kitty, isn't it odd how every body here
+speaks Italian, even the children?"
+
+"Yes, very odd; but, Minnie dear, I want to know what you told him."
+
+"Why, I told him that I didn't know, you know."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then he took my hand. Now, Kitty, you're unkind. I really _can
+not_ tell you all this."
+
+"Yes, but I only ask so as to advise you. I want to know how the case
+stands."
+
+"Well, you know, he was so urgent--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And so handsome--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And then, you know, he saved my life--didn't he, now? You must
+acknowledge that much, mustn't you?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+Minnie sighed.
+
+"So what could I say?"
+
+Minnie paused.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked troubled.
+
+"Kitty, I _wish_ you wouldn't look at me with that dreadful
+expression. You really make me feel quite frightened."
+
+"Minnie," said the other, in a serious voice, "do you really _love_
+this man?"
+
+"Love this man! why no, not particularly; but I _like_ him; that is, I
+think I do, or rather I thought I did; but really I'm so worried about
+all my troubles that I wish he had never come down after me. I don't
+see why he did, either. I didn't ask him to. I remember, now, I really
+felt quite embarrassed when I saw him. I knew there would be trouble
+about it. And I wish you would take me back home. I hate Italy. Do,
+Kitty darling. But then--"
+
+Minnie paused again.
+
+"Well, Minnie dear, we certainly must contrive some plan to shake him
+off without hurting his feelings. It can't be thought of. There are a
+hundred objections. If the worst comes to the worst we can go back, as
+you say, to England."
+
+"I know; but then," said Minnie, "that's the very thing that I can't
+do--"
+
+"Can't do what?"
+
+"Go back to England."
+
+"Back to England! Why not? I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Well, you see, Kitty, that's the very thing I came to see you about.
+This dreadful man--the Count, you know--has some wonderful way of
+finding out where I go; and he keeps all the time appearing and
+disappearing in the very strangest manner; and when I saw him on the
+roof of the Cathedral it really made me feel quite giddy. He is _so_
+determined to win me that I'm afraid to look round. He takes the
+commonest civility as encouragement. And then, you know--there it
+is--I really can't go back to England."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why there's--a--a dreadful person there," said Minnie, with an awful
+look in her eyes.
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A--person," said Minnie.
+
+"A man?"
+
+Minnie nodded. "Oh yes--of course. Really when one thinks of one's
+troubles it's enough to drive one distracted. This person is a man. I
+don't know why it is that I should be _so_ worried and _so_ distracted
+by men. I do _not_ like them, and I wish there were no such persons."
+
+"Another man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, in some surprise. "Well, Minnie,
+you certainly--"
+
+"Now don't, don't--not a word; I know all you're going to say, and I
+won't stand it;" and Minnie ran over to her sister and held her hand
+over her mouth.
+
+"I won't say a word," said Mrs. Willoughby, as soon as she had removed
+Minnie's hand; "so begin."
+
+Minnie resumed her place on the sofa, and gave a long sigh.
+
+"Well, you know, Kitty darling, it happened at Brighton last
+September. You were in Scotland then. I was with old Lady Shrewsbury,
+who is as blind as a bat--and where's the use of having a person to
+look after you when they're blind! You see, my horse ran away, and I
+think he must have gone ever so many miles, over railroad bridges and
+hedges and stone walls. I'm certain he jumped over a small cottage.
+Well, you know, when all seemed lost, suddenly there was a strong hand
+laid on the reins, and my horse was stopped. I tumbled into some
+strange gentleman's arms, and was carried into a house, where I was
+resuscitated. I returned home in the gentleman's carriage.
+
+"Now the worst of it is," said Minnie, with a piteous look, "that the
+person who stopped the horse called to inquire after me the next day.
+Lady Shrewsbury, like an old goose, was awfully civil to him; and so
+there I was! His name is Captain Kirby, and I wish there were no
+captains in the world. The life he led me! He used to call, and I had
+to go out riding with him, and old Lady Shrewsbury utterly neglected
+me; and so, you know, Kitty darling, he at last, you know, of course,
+proposed. That's what they all do, you know, when they save your life.
+Always! It's awful!"
+
+Minnie heaved a sigh, and sat apparently meditating on the enormous
+baseness of the man who saved a lady's life and then proposed; and it
+was not until Mrs. Willoughby had spoken twice that she was recalled
+to herself.
+
+"What did you tell him?" was her sister's question.
+
+"Why, what could I tell him?"
+
+"What!" cried Mrs. Willoughby; "you don't--"
+
+"Now, Kitty, I think it's very unkind in you, when I want all your
+sympathy, to be _so_ horrid."
+
+"Well, tell it your own way, Minnie dearest."
+
+Minnie sat for a time regarding vacancy with a soft, sad, and piteous
+expression in her large blue eyes; with her head also a little on one
+side, and her delicate hands gently clasped in front of her.
+
+[Illustration: "ANOTHER MAN!"]
+
+"You see, Kitty darling, he took me out riding, and--he took me to the
+place where I had met him, and then he proposed. Well, you know, I
+didn't know what to say. He was _so_ earnest, and _so_ despairing. And
+then, you know, Kitty dearest, he had saved my life, and so--"
+
+"And so?"
+
+"Well, I told him I didn't know, and was shockingly confused, and then
+we got up quite a scene. He swore that he would go to Mexico, though
+why I can't imagine; and I really wish he had; but I was frightened at
+the time, and I cried; and then he got worse, and I told him not to;
+whereupon he went into raptures, and began to call me no end of
+names--spooney names, you know; and I--oh, I did _so_ want him to
+stop!--I think I must have promised him all that he wanted; and when I
+got home I was frightened out of my poor little wits, and cried all
+night."
+
+"Poor dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, with tender sympathy.
+"What a wretch!"
+
+"No, he wasn't a wretch at all; he was awfully handsome, only, you
+know, he--was--so--_aw_fully persevering, and kept _so_ at my heels;
+but I hurried home from Brighton, and thought I had got rid of him."
+
+"And hadn't you?"
+
+"Oh dear, no," said Minnie, mournfully. "On the day after my arrival
+there came a letter; and, you know, I had to answer it; and then
+another; and so it went on--"
+
+"Oh, Minnie! why didn't you tell me before?"
+
+"How could I when you were off in that horrid Scotland? I _always_
+hated Scotland."
+
+"You might have told papa."
+
+"I couldn't. I think papa's cruel _too_. He doesn't care for me at
+all. Why didn't he find out our correspondence and intercept it, the
+way papas always do in novels? If I were _his_ papa I'd not let _him_
+be so worried."
+
+"And did he never call on you?"
+
+"Yes; he got leave of absence once, and I had a dreadful time with
+him. He was in a desperate state of mind. He was ordered off to
+Gibraltar. But I managed to comfort him; and, oh dear, Kitty dear, did
+you _ever_ try to comfort a man, and the man a total stranger?"
+
+At this innocent question Mrs. Willoughby's gravity gave way a little.
+
+Minnie frowned, and then sighed.
+
+"Well, you needn't be so unkind," said she; and then her little hand
+tried to wipe away a tear, but failed.
+
+"Did he go to Gibraltar?" asked Mrs. Willoughby at length.
+
+"Yes, he did," said Minnie, with a little asperity.
+
+"Did he write?"
+
+"Of course he wrote," in the same tone.
+
+"Well, how did it end?"
+
+"End! It didn't end at all. And it never will end. It'll go on getting
+worse and worse every day. You see he wrote, and said a lot of rubbish
+about his getting leave of absence and coming to see me. And then I
+determined to run away; and you know I begged you to take me to Italy,
+and this is the first time I've told you the real reason."
+
+"So that was the real reason?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, Minnie, my poor child," said Mrs. Willoughby, after a pause,
+"you're safe from your officer, at any rate; and as to Count Girasole,
+we must save you from him. Don't give way."
+
+"But you can't save me. They'll come after me, I know. Captain Kirby,
+the moment he finds out that I am here, will come flying after me; and
+then, oh dear! the other one will come, and the American, too, of
+course."
+
+"The what? who?" cried Mrs. Willoughby, starting up with new
+excitement. "Who's that? What did you say, Minnie? The American? What
+American?"
+
+Minnie threw a look of reproach at her sister, and her eyes fell.
+
+"You can't possibly mean that there are any more--"
+
+"There--is--_one_--more," said Minnie, in a low, faint voice, stealing
+a glance at her sister, and looking a little frightened.
+
+"One more!" repeated her sister, breathless.
+
+"Well, I didn't come here to be scolded," said Minnie, rising, "and
+I'll go. But I hoped that you'd help me; and I think you're very
+unkind; and I wouldn't treat you so."
+
+"No, no, Minnie," said Mrs. Willoughby, rising, and putting her arm
+round her sister, and drawing her back. "I had no idea of scolding. I
+never scolded any one in my life, and wouldn't speak a cross word to
+you for the world. Sit down now, Minnie darling, and tell me all. What
+about the American? I won't express any more astonishment, no matter
+what I may feel."
+
+"But you mustn't _feel_ any astonishment," insisted Minnie.
+
+"Well, darling, I won't," said her sister.
+
+Minnie gave a sigh.
+
+"It was last year, you know, in the spring. Papa and I were going out
+to Montreal, to bring you home. You remember?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby nodded, while a sad expression came over her face.
+
+"And, you remember, the steamer was wrecked."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But I never told you how my life was saved."
+
+"Why, yes, you did. Didn't papa tell all about the heroic sailor who
+swam ashore with you? how he was frantic about you, having been swept
+away by a wave from you? and how he fainted away with joy when you
+were brought to him? How can you suppose I would forget that? And then
+how papa tried to find the noble sailor to reward him."
+
+"Oh yes," said Minnie, in a despondent tone. "That's all very true;
+but he wasn't a noble sailor at all."
+
+"What!"
+
+"You see, he wasn't going to have a scene with papa, and so he kept
+out of his way. Oh dear, how I wish he'd been as considerate with me!
+But that's the way always; yes, always."
+
+"Well, who was he?"
+
+"Why, he was an American gentleman, returning home from a tour in
+Europe. He saved me, as you have heard. I really don't remember much
+about it, only there was a terrible rush of water, and a strong arm
+seized me, and I thought it was papa all the time. And I found myself
+carried, I don't know how, through the waves, and then I fainted; and
+I really don't know any thing about it except papa's story."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked at Minnie in silence, but said nothing.
+
+"And then, you know, he traveled with us, and papa thought he was one
+of the passengers, and was civil; and so he used to talk to me, and at
+last, at Montreal, he used to call on me."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"At your house, dearest."
+
+"Why, how was that?"
+
+"You could not leave your room, darling, so I used to go down."
+
+"Oh, Minnie!"
+
+"And he proposed to me there."
+
+"Where? in my parlor?"
+
+"Yes; in your parlor, dearest."
+
+"I suppose it's not necessary for me to ask what you said."
+
+"I suppose not," said Minnie, in a sweet voice. "He was so grand and
+so strong, and he never made any allusions to the wreck; and it
+was--the--the--_very first_ time that any body ever--proposed; and so,
+you know, I didn't know how to take it, and I didn't want to hurt his
+feelings, and I couldn't deny that he had saved my life; and I don't
+know when I _ever_ was so confused. It's awful, Kitty darling.
+
+"And then, you know, darling," continued Minnie, "he went away, and
+used to write regularly every month. He came to see me once, and I was
+frightened to death almost. He is going to marry me next year. He used
+an awful expression, dearest. He told me he was a struggling man.
+Isn't that horrid? What is it, Kitty? Isn't it something very, very
+dreadful?"
+
+"He writes still, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh dear, yes."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was silent for some time.
+
+"Oh, Minnie," said she at last, "what a trouble all this is! How I
+wish you had been with me all this time!"
+
+"Well, what made you go and get married?" said Minnie.
+
+"Hush," said Mrs. Willoughby, sadly, "never mind. I've made up my mind
+to one thing, and that is, I will never leave you alone with a
+gentleman, unless--"
+
+[Illustration:
+"HE BENT HIS HEAD DOWN, AND RAN HIS HAND THROUGH HIS BUSHY HAIR."]
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't want the horrid creatures," said Minnie. "And
+you needn't be so unkind. I'm sure I don't see why people will come
+always and save my life wherever I go. I don't want them to. I don't
+want to have my life saved any more. I think it's dreadful to have men
+chasing me all over the world. I'm afraid to stop in Italy, and I'm
+afraid to go back to England. Then I'm always afraid of that dreadful
+American. I suppose it's no use for me to go to the Holy Land, or
+Egypt, or Australia; for then my life would be saved by an Arab, or a
+New Zealander. And oh, Kitty, wouldn't it be dreadful to have some
+Arab proposing to me, or a Hindu! Oh, what _am_ I to do?"
+
+"Trust to me, darling. I'll get rid of Girasole. We will go to Naples.
+He has to stop at Rome; I know that. We will thus pass quietly away
+from him, without giving him any pain, and he'll soon forget all about
+it. As for the others, I'll stop this correspondence first, and then
+deal with them as they come."
+
+"You'll never do it, never!" cried Minnie; "I know you won't. You
+don't know them."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+IN THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS.
+
+
+Lord Harry Hawbury had been wandering for three months on the
+Continent, and had finally found himself in Naples. It was always a
+favorite place of his, and he had established himself in comfortable
+quarters on the Strada Nuova, from the windows of which there was a
+magnificent view of the whole bay, with Vesuvius, Capri, Baiæ, and all
+the regions round about. Here an old friend had unexpectedly turned up
+in the person of Scone Dacres. Their friendship had been formed some
+five or six years before in South America, where they had made a
+hazardous journey in company across the continent, and had thus
+acquired a familiarity with one another which years of ordinary
+association would have failed to give. Scone Dacres was several years
+older than Lord Hawbury.
+
+One evening Lord Hawbury had just finished his dinner, and was
+dawdling about in a listless way, when Dacres entered, quite
+unceremoniously, and flung himself into a chair by one of the windows.
+
+"Any Bass, Hawbury?" was his only greeting, as he bent his head down,
+and ran his hand through his bushy hair.
+
+"Lachryma Christi?" asked Hawbury, in an interrogative tone.
+
+"No, thanks. That wine is a humbug. I'm beastly thirsty, and as dry as
+a cinder."
+
+Hawbury ordered the Bass, and Dacres soon was refreshing himself with
+copious draughts.
+
+The two friends presented a singular contrast. Lord Hawbury was tall
+and slim, with straight flaxen hair and flaxen whiskers, whose long,
+pendent points hung down to his shoulders. His thin face, somewhat
+pale, had an air of high refinement; and an ineradicable habit of
+lounging, together with a drawling intonation, gave him the appearance
+of being the laziest mortal alive. Dacres, on the other hand, was the
+very opposite of all this. He was as tall as Lord Hawbury, but was
+broad-shouldered and massive. He had a big head, a big mustache, and a
+thick beard. His hair was dark, and covered his head in dense, bushy
+curls. His voice was loud, his manner abrupt, and he always sat bolt
+upright.
+
+"Any thing up, Sconey?" asked Lord Hawbury, after a pause, during
+which he had been languidly gazing at his friend.
+
+"Well, no, nothing, except that I've been up Vesuvius."
+
+Lord Hawbury gave a long whistle.
+
+"And how did you find the mountain?" he asked; "lively?"
+
+"Rather so. In fact, infernally so," added Dacres, thoughtfully. "Look
+here, Hawbury, do you detect any smell of sulphur about me?"
+
+"Sulphur! What in the name of--sulphur! Why, now that you mention it,
+I _do_ notice something of a brimstone smell. Sulphur! Why, man,
+you're as strong as a lighted match. What have you been doing with
+yourself? Down inside, eh?"
+
+Dacres made no answer for some time, but sat stroking his beard with
+his left hand, while his right held a cigar which he had just taken
+out of a box at his elbow. His eyes were fixed upon a point in the sky
+exactly half-way between Capri and Baiæ, and about ten degrees above
+the horizon.
+
+"Hawbury," said he, solemnly, after about two minutes of portentous
+silence.
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"I've had an adventure."
+
+"An adventure! Well, don't be bashful. Breathe forth the tale in this
+confiding ear."
+
+"You see," said Dacres, "I started off this morning for a ride, and
+had no more intention of going to Vesuvius than to Jericho."
+
+"I should hope not. What business has a fellow like you with
+Vesuvius--a fellow that has scaled Cotopaxi, and all that sort of
+thing? Not you."
+
+Dacres put the cigar thoughtfully in his mouth, struck a light, and
+tried to light it, but couldn't. Then he bit the end off, which he had
+forgotten to do before. Then he gave three long, solemn, and
+portentous puffs. Then he took the cigar between his first and second
+fingers, and stretched his hand out toward Hawbury.
+
+"Hawbury, my boy," said he again.
+
+"All right."
+
+"You remember the time when I got that bullet in Uruguay?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I had a shot to-day."
+
+"A shot! The deuce you had. Cool, too. Any of those confounded bandits
+about? I thought that was all rot."
+
+"It wasn't a real shot; only figurative."
+
+"Figurative!"
+
+"Yes; it was a--a girl."
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury, starting up from an easy posture which he
+had secured for himself after fifteen minutes shifting and changing.
+"A girl! You, Dacres, spooney! A fellow like you, and a girl! By
+Jove!"
+
+Hawbury fell back again, and appeared to be vainly trying to grapple
+with the thought. Dacres put his cigar between his lips again, and gave
+one or two puffs at it, but it had gone out. He pitched it out of the
+window, and struck his hand heavily on the arm of his chair.
+
+"Yes, Hawbury, a girl; and spooney, too--as spooney as blazes; but
+I'll swear there isn't such another girl upon the whole face of the
+earth; and when you bear in mind the fact that my observation, with
+extended view, has surveyed mankind from China to Peru, you'll be able
+to appreciate the value of my statement."
+
+"All right, old man; and now for the adventure."
+
+"The adventure? Well, you see, I started for a ride. Had a misty idea
+of going to Sorrento, and was jogging along among a million pigs or so
+at Portici, when I overtook a carriage that was going slowly along.
+There were three ladies in it. The backs of two of them were turned
+toward me, and I afterward saw that one was old--no doubt the
+chaperon--and the other was young. But the third lady, Hawbury--Well,
+it's enough to say that I, who have seen all women in all lands, have
+never seen any thing like her. She was on the front seat, with her
+face turned toward me. She was small, a perfect blonde; hair short and
+curling; a round, girlish face; dimpled cheeks, and little mouth. Her
+eyes were large and blue; and, as she looked at me, I saw such a
+bewitching innocence, such plaintive entreaty, such pathetic trust,
+such helpless, childlike--I'll be hanged if I can find words to
+express what I want to say. The English language doesn't contain
+them."
+
+"Do it in Latin, then, or else skip the whole description. All the
+same. I know the whole story by heart. Love's young dream, and all
+that sort of thing, you know."
+
+"Well," continued Dacres, "there was something so confoundedly
+bewitching in the little girl's face that I found myself keeping on at
+a slow pace in the rear of the carriage, and feasting on her looks. Of
+course I wasn't rude about it or demonstrative."
+
+"Oh, of course. No demonstration. It's nothing to ride behind a
+carriage for several hours, and 'feast' one's self on a pretty girl's
+looks! But go on, old man."
+
+"Oh, I managed it without giving offense. You see, there was such a
+beastly lot of pigs, peasants, cows, dirty children, lazaroni, and all
+that sort of thing, that it was simply impossible to go any faster; so
+you see I was compelled to ride behind. Sometimes, indeed, I fell a
+good distance back."
+
+"And then caught up again to resume the 'feast?'"
+
+"Well--yes."
+
+"But I don't see what this has to do with your going to Vesuvius."
+
+"It has every thing to do. You see, I started without any fixed
+purpose, and after I saw this carriage, I kept on insensibly after
+it."
+
+"Oh, I see--yes. By Jove!"
+
+"And they drove up as far as they could."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And I followed. You see, I had nothing else to do--and that little
+girl! Besides, it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be
+going up; and the fact that I was bent on the same errand as
+themselves was sufficient to account for my being near the carriage,
+and would prevent them from supposing that I was following them. So,
+you see, I followed, and at length they stopped at the Hermitage. I
+left my horse there, and strolled forward, without going very far
+away; my only idea was to keep the girl in sight. I had no idea that
+they would go any further. To ascend the cone seemed quite out of the
+question. I thought they would rest at the Hermitage, drink some
+Lachryma Christi, and go back. But to my surprise, as I was walking
+about, I saw the two young ladies come out and go toward the cone.
+
+"I kept out of the way, as you may suppose, and watched them,
+wondering what idea they had. As they passed I heard the younger
+one--the child-angel, you know, _my_ girl--teasing the other to make
+the ascent of the cone, and the other seemed to be quite ready to
+agree to the proposal.
+
+"Now, as far as the mere ascent is concerned, of course you know
+_that_ is not much. The guides were there with straps and chairs, and
+that sort of thing, all ready, so that there was no difficulty about
+that. The real difficulty was in these girls going off unattended; and
+I could only account for it by supposing that the chaperon knew
+nothing whatever about their proposal. No doubt the old lady was
+tired, and the young ones went out, as _she_ supposed, for a stroll;
+and now, as _they_ proposed, this stroll meant nothing less than an
+ascent of the cone. After all, there is nothing surprising in the fact
+that a couple of active and spirited girls should attempt this. From
+the Hermitage it does not seem to be at all difficult, and they had no
+idea of the actual nature of the task.
+
+"What made it worse, however, was the state of the mountain at this
+particular time. I don't know whether you have taken the trouble to
+raise your eyes so high as the top of Vesuvius--"
+
+Hawbury languidly shook his head.
+
+"Well, I supposed not; but if you had taken the trouble, you would
+have noticed an ugly cloud which is generally regarded here as
+ominous. This morning, you know, there was an unusually large canopy
+of very dirty smoke overhead. I knew by the look of things that it was
+not a very pleasant place to go to. But of course they could not be
+supposed to know any thing of the kind, and their very ignorance made
+them rash.
+
+"Well, I walked along after them, not knowing what might turn up, but
+determined to keep them in sight. Those beggars with chairs were not
+to be trusted, and the ladies had gold enough about them to tempt
+violence. What a reckless old devil of a chaperon she was, to let
+those young girls go! So I walked on, cursing all the time the
+conventionalities of civilization that prevented me from giving them
+warning. They were rushing straight on into danger, and I had to keep
+silent.
+
+"On reaching the foot of the cone a lot of fellows came up to them,
+with chairs and straps, and that sort of thing. They employed some of
+them, and, mounting the chairs, they were carried up, while I walked
+up by myself at a distance from which I could observe all that was
+going on. The girls were quite merry, appeared to be enchanted with
+their ride up the cone, enjoyed the novelty of the sensation, and I
+heard their lively chatter and their loud peals of ringing laughter,
+and longed more than ever to be able to speak to them.
+
+"Now the little girl that I had first seen--the child-angel, you
+know--seemed, to my amazement, to be more adventurous than the other.
+By her face you would suppose her to be as timid as a dove, and yet on
+this occasion she was the one who proposed the ascent, urged on her
+companion, and answered all her objections. Of course she could not
+have really been so plucky as she seemed. For my part, I believe the
+other one had more real pluck of the two, but it was the child-angel's
+ignorance that made her so bold. She went up the cone as she would
+have gone up stairs, and looked at the smoke as she would have looked
+at a rolling cloud.
+
+"At length the bearers stopped, and signified to the girls that they
+could not go any further. The girls could not speak Italian, or any
+other language apparently than English, and therefore could not very
+well make out what the bearers were trying to say, but by their
+gestures they might have known that they were warning them against
+going any further. One might have supposed that no warning would have
+been needed, and that one look upward would have been enough. The top
+of the cone rose for upward of a hundred feet above them, its soil
+composed of lava blocks and ashes intermingled with sulphur. In this
+soil there were a million cracks and crevices, from which sulphurous
+smoke was issuing; and the smoke, which was but faint and thin near
+where they stood, grew denser farther up, till it intermingled with
+the larger volumes that rolled up from the crater.
+
+"Now, as I stood there, I suddenly heard a wild proposal from the
+child-angel.
+
+"'Oh, Ethel,' she said, 'I've a great mind to go up--'"
+
+Here Hawbury interrupted his friend:
+
+"What's that? Was that her friend's name?" he asked, with some
+animation. "Ethel?--odd, too. Ethel? H'm. Ethel? Brunette, was she?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Odd, too; infernally odd. But, pooh! what rot! Just as though there
+weren't a thousand Ethels!"
+
+"What's that you're saying about Ethel?" asked Dacres.
+
+"Oh, nothing, old man. Excuse my interrupting you. Go ahead. How did
+it end?"
+
+"Well, the child-angel said, 'Ethel, I've a great mind to go up.'
+
+"This proposal Ethel scouted in horror and consternation.
+
+"'You must not--you shall not!' she cried.
+
+"'Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing,' said the child-angel. 'I'm dying to
+take a peep into the crater. It must be awfully funny. Do come; do, do
+come, Ethel darling.'
+
+"'Oh, Minnie, don't,' cried the other, in great alarm. And I now
+learned that the child-angel's name was Minnie. 'Minnie,' she cried,
+clinging to the child-angel, 'you must not go. I would not have come
+up if I had thought you would be so unreasonable.'
+
+"'Ethel,' said the other, 'you are really getting to be quite a scold.
+How ridiculous it is in you to set yourself up in this place as a
+duenna! How can I help going up? and only one peep. And I never saw a
+crater in my life, and I'm dying to know what it looks like. I know
+it's awfully funny; and it's horrid in you to be so unkind about it.
+And I really must go. Won't you come? Do, do, dear--dearest darling,
+do--do--do!'
+
+"Ethel was firm, however, and tried to dissuade the other, but to no
+purpose; for at length, with a laugh, the child-angel burst away, and
+skipped lightly up the slope toward the crater.
+
+"'Just one peep,' she said. 'Come, Ethel, I must, I really must, you
+know.'
+
+"She turned for an instant as she said this, and I saw the glory of
+her child-face as it was irradiated by a smile of exquisite sweetness.
+The play of feature, the light of her eyes, and the expression of
+innocence and ignorance unconscious of danger, filled me with profound
+sadness. And there was I, standing alone, seeing that sweet child
+flinging herself to ruin, and yet unable to prevent her, simply
+because I was bound hand and foot by the infernal restrictions of a
+miserable and a senseless conventionality. Dash it, I say!"
+
+As Dacres growled out this Hawbury elevated his eyebrows, and stroked
+his long, pendent whiskers lazily with his left hand, while with his
+right he drummed on the table near him.
+
+"Well," resumed Dacres, "the child-angel ran up for some distance,
+leaving Ethel behind. Ethel called after her for some time, and then
+began to follow her up. Meanwhile the guides, who had thus far stood
+apart, suddenly caught sight of the child-angel's figure, and, with a
+loud warning cry, they ran after her. They seemed to me, however, to
+be a lazy lot, for they scarce got up as far as the place where Ethel
+was. Now, you know, all this time I was doomed to inaction. But at
+this juncture I strolled carelessly along, pretending not to see any
+thing in particular; and so, taking up an easy attitude, I waited for
+the dénouement. It was a terrible position too. That child-angel! I
+would have laid down my life for her, but I had to stand idle, and see
+her rush to fling her life away. And all because I had not happened to
+have the mere formality of an introduction."
+
+[Illustration: "I SAW HER TURN AND WAVE HER HAND IN TRIUMPH."]
+
+"Well, you know, I stood there waiting for the dénouement. Now it
+happened that, as the child-angel went up, a brisk breeze had started,
+which blew away all the smoke, so that she went along for some
+distance without any apparent inconvenience. I saw her reach the top;
+I saw her turn and wave her hand in triumph. Then I saw her rush
+forward quickly and nimbly straight toward the crater. She seemed to
+go down into it. And then the wind changed or died away, or both, for
+there came a vast cloud of rolling smoke, black, cruel, suffocating;
+and the mountain crest and the child-angel were snatched from my
+sight.
+
+"I was roused by a shriek from Ethel. I saw her rush up the slope, and
+struggle in a vain endeavor to save her friend. But before she had
+taken a dozen steps down came the rolling smoke, black, wrathful, and
+sulphurous; and I saw her crouch down and stagger back, and finally
+emerge pale as death, and gasping for breath. She saw me as I stood
+there; in fact, I had moved a little nearer.
+
+"'Oh, Sir,' she cried, 'save her! Oh, my God, she's lost!'
+
+"This was very informal, you know, and all that sort of thing; but
+_she_ had broken the ice, and had accosted _me_; so I waived all
+ceremony, and considered the introduction sufficient. I took off my
+hat, and told her to calm herself.
+
+"But she only wrung her hands, and implored me to save her friend.
+
+"And now, my boy, lucky was it for me that my experience at Cotopaxi
+and Popocatepetl had been so thorough and so peculiar. My knowledge
+came into play at this time. I took my felt hat and put it over my
+mouth, and then tied it around my neck so that the felt rim came over
+my cheeks and throat. Thus I secured a plentiful supply of air, and
+the felt acted as a kind of ventilator to prevent the access to my
+lungs of too much of the sulphurous vapor. Of course such a
+contrivance would not be good for more than five minutes; but then,
+you know, five minutes were all that I wanted.
+
+"So up I rushed, and, as the slope was only about a hundred feet, I
+soon reached the top. Here I could see nothing whatever. The
+tremendous smoke-clouds rolled all about on every side, enveloping me
+in their dense folds, and shutting every thing from view. I heard the
+cry of the asses of guides, who were howling where I left them below,
+and were crying to me to come back--the infernal idiots! The smoke was
+impenetrable; so I got down on my hands and knees and groped about. I
+was on her track, and knew she could not be far away. I could not
+spend more than five minutes there, for my felt hat would not assist
+me any longer. About two minutes had already passed. Another minute
+was taken up in creeping about on my hands and knees. A half minute
+more followed. I was in despair. The child-angel I saw must have run
+in much further than I had supposed, and perhaps I could not find her
+at all. A sickening fear came to me that she had grown dizzy, or had
+slid down over the loose sand into the terrific abyss of the crater
+itself. So another half minute passed; and now only one minute was
+left."
+
+"I don't see how you managed to be so confoundedly accurate in your
+reckoning. How was it? You didn't carry your watch in one hand, and
+feel about with the other, I suppose?"
+
+"No; but I looked at my watch at intervals. But never mind that. Four
+minutes, as I said, were up, and only one minute remained, and that
+was not enough to take me back. I was at the last gasp already, and on
+the verge of despair, when suddenly, as I crawled on, there lay the
+child-angel full before me, within my reach.
+
+"Yes," continued Dacres, after a pause, "there she lay, just in my
+grasp, just at my own last gasp. One second more and it must have been
+all up. She was senseless, of course. I caught her up; I rose and ran
+back as quick as I could, bearing my precious burden. She was as light
+as a feather--no weight at all. I carried her as tenderly as if she
+was a little baby. As I emerged from the smoke Ethel rushed up to me
+and set up a cry, but I told her to keep quiet and it would be all
+right. Then I directed the guides to carry her down, and I myself then
+carried down the child-angel.
+
+"You see I wasn't going to give her up. I had had hard work enough
+getting her. Besides, the atmosphere up there was horrible. It was
+necessary, first of all, to get her down to the foot of the cone,
+where she could have pure air, and then resuscitate her. Therefore I
+directed the guides to take down Ethel in a chair, while I carried
+down the child-angel. They had to carry her down over the lava blocks,
+but I went to a part of the cone where it was all loose sand, and went
+down flying. I was at the bottom a full half hour before the others.
+
+"Then I laid her upon the loose sand; and I swear to you, Hawbury,
+never in all my life have I seen such a sight. She lay there before my
+eyes a picture of loveliness beyond imagination--as beautiful as a
+dream--more like a child-angel than ever. Her hair clustered in golden
+curls over her white brow, her little hands were folded meekly over
+her breast, her lips were parted into a sweet smile, the gentle eyes
+no longer looked at me with the piteous, pleading, trustful, innocent
+expression which I had noticed in them before, and her hearing was
+deaf to the words of love and tenderness that I lavished upon her."
+
+"Good!" muttered Hawbury; "you talk like a novel. Drive on, old man.
+I'm really beginning to feel excited."
+
+"'The fact is," said Dacres, "I have a certain set of expressions
+about the child-angel that will come whenever I begin to describe
+her."
+
+"It strikes me, though, that you are getting on pretty well. You were
+speaking of 'love and tenderness.' Well?"
+
+"Well, she lay there senseless, you know, and I gently unclasped her
+hands and began to rub them. I think the motion of carrying her, and
+the fresh air, had both produced a favorable effect; for I had not
+rubbed her hands ten minutes when she gave a low sigh. Then I rubbed
+on, and her lips moved. I bent down close so as to listen, and I heard
+her say, in a low voice,
+
+"'Am I at home?'
+
+[Illustration: "I BENT DOWN CLOSE."]
+
+"'Yes,' said I, gently, for I thought it was best to humor her
+delirious fancy.
+
+"Then she spoke again:
+
+"'Is that you, papa dear?'
+
+"'Yes, darling,' said I, in a low voice; and I kissed her in a kind of
+paternal way, so as to reassure her, and comfort her, and soothe her,
+and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+At this Hawbury burst into a shout of laughter.
+
+"What the mischief are you making that beastly row about?" growled
+Dacres.
+
+"Excuse me, old boy. I couldn't help it. It was at the idea of your
+doing the father so gravely."
+
+"Well, am I not old enough to be her father? What else could I do? She
+had such a pleading, piteous way. By Jove! Besides, how did she know
+any thing about it? It wasn't as if she was in her senses. She really
+thought I _was_ her father, you know. And I'm sure I almost felt as if
+I was, too."
+
+"All right, old man, don't get huffy. Drive on."
+
+"Well, you know, she kept her eyes closed, and didn't say another word
+till she heard the voice of Ethel at a distance. Then she opened her
+eyes, and got up on her feet. Then there was no end of a row--kissing,
+crying, congratulating, reproaching, and all that sort of thing. I
+withdrew to a respectful distance and waited. After a time they both
+came to me, and the child-angel gave me a look that made me long to be
+a father to her again. She held out her little hand, and I took it and
+pressed it, with my heart beating awfully. I was horribly embarrassed.
+
+"'I'm awfully grateful to you,' she said; 'I'm sure I'd do any thing
+in the world to repay you. I'm sure I don't know what would have
+become of me if it hadn't been for you. And I hope you'll excuse me
+for putting you to so much trouble. And, oh!' she concluded, half to
+herself, 'what _will_ Kitty say now?'"
+
+"Kitty! Who's Kitty?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"All right. Never mind. Drive on, old chap."
+
+"Well, I mumbled something or other, and then offered to go and get
+their carriage. But they would not hear of it. The child-angel said
+she could walk. This I strongly dissuaded her from doing, and Ethel
+insisted that the men should carry her. This was done, and in a short
+time we got back to the Hermitage, where the old lady was in no end of
+a worry. In the midst of the row I slipped away, and waited till the
+carriage drove off. Then I followed at a sufficient distance not to be
+observed, and saw where their house was."
+
+[Illustration: THE MEETING.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE BEGINNING OF BLUNDERS.
+
+
+Dacres paused now, and lighting a fresh cigar, smoked away at it in
+silence, with long and solemn and regular puffs. Hawbury watched him
+for some time, with a look of dreamy curiosity and lazy interest. Then
+he rose, and dawdled about the room for a few minutes. Then he lighted
+a cigar, and finally, resuming his seat, he said:
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+Dacres puffed on.
+
+"I'm beginning to think," said Hawbury, "that your first statement is
+correct. You are shot, my boy--hit hard--and all that; and now I
+should like to ask you one question."
+
+"Ask away."
+
+"What are you going to do about it? Do you intend to pursue the
+acquaintance?"
+
+"Of course. Why not?"
+
+"What do you intend to do next?"
+
+"Next? Why, call on her, and inquire after her health."
+
+"Very good."
+
+"Well, have you any thing to say against that?"
+
+"Certainly not. Only it surprises me a little."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I never thought of Scone Dacres as a marrying man, and can't
+altogether grapple with the idea."
+
+"I don't see why a fellow shouldn't marry if he wants to," said
+Dacres. "What's the matter with me that I shouldn't get married as
+well as lots of fellows?"
+
+"No reason in the world, my dear boy. Marry as many wives as you
+choose. My remark referred merely to my own idea of you, and not to
+any thing actually innate in your character. So don't get huffy at a
+fellow."
+
+Some further conversation followed, and Dacres finally took his
+departure, full of thoughts about his new acquaintance, and racking
+his brains to devise some way of securing access to her.
+
+On the following evening he made his appearance once more at Hawbury's
+rooms.
+
+"Well, old man, what's up? Any thing more about the child-angel?"
+
+"Well, a little. I've found out her name."
+
+"Ah! What is it?"
+
+"Fay. Her name is Minnie Fay."
+
+"Minnie Fay. I never heard of the name before. Who are her people?"
+
+"She is traveling with Lady Dalrymple."
+
+"The Dowager, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who are the other ladies?"
+
+"Well, I don't exactly remember."
+
+"Didn't you find out?"
+
+"Yes; I heard all their names, but I've forgotten. I know one of them
+is the child-angel's sister, and the other is her cousin. The one I
+saw with her was probably the sister."
+
+"What, the one named Ethel?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ethel--Ethel Fay. H'm," said Hawbury, in a tone of disappointment. "I
+knew it would be so. There are so many Ethels about."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I once knew a girl named Ethel, and--Well, I had a faint
+idea that it would be odd if this should be the one. But there's no
+such chance."
+
+"Oh, the name Ethel is common enough."
+
+"Well, and didn't you find out any thing about her people?"
+
+"Whose--Ethel's?"
+
+"Your child-angel's people."
+
+"No. What do I care about her people? They might be Jews or
+Patagonians for all I care."
+
+"Still I should think your interest in her would make you ask."
+
+"Oh no; my interest refers to herself, not to her relatives. Her
+sister Ethel is certainly a deuced pretty girl, though."
+
+"Sconey, my boy, I'm afraid you're getting demoralized. Why, I
+remember the time when you regarded the whole female race with a lofty
+scorn and a profound indifference that was a perpetual rebuke to more
+inflammable natures. But now what a change! Here you are, with a
+finely developed eye for female beauty, actually reveling in dreams of
+child-angels and their sisters. By Jove!"
+
+"Nonsense," said Dacres.
+
+"Well, drive on, and tell all about it. You've seen her, of course?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"Did you call?"
+
+"Yes; she was not at home. I went away with a snubbed and subdued
+feeling, and rode along near the Villa Reale, when suddenly I met the
+carriage with Lady Dalrymple and the child-angel. She knew me at once,
+and gave a little start. Then she looked awfully embarrassed. Then she
+turned to Lady Dalrymple; and by the time I had got up the carriage
+had stopped, and the ladies both looked at me and bowed. I went up,
+and they both held out their hands. Lady Dalrymple then made some
+remarks expressive of gratitude, while the child-angel sat and
+fastened her wonderful eyes on me, and threw at me such a pleading,
+touching, entreating, piteous, grateful, beseeching look, that I
+fairly collapsed.
+
+"When Lady Dalrymple stopped, she turned to her and said:
+
+"'And oh, aunty darling, did you _ever_ hear of any thing like it? It
+was _so_ brave. Wasn't it an awfully plucky thing to do, now? And I
+was really inside the crater! I'm sure _I_ never could have done such
+a thing--no, not even for my _own papa_! Oh, how I do _wish_ I could
+do something to show how _awfully_ grateful I am! And, aunty darling,
+I do _wish_ you'd tell me what to do.'
+
+"All this quite turned my head, and I couldn't say any thing; but sat
+on my saddle, devouring the little thing with my eyes, and drinking in
+the wonderful look which she threw at me. At last the carriage
+started, and the ladies, with a pleasant smile, drove on. I think I
+stood still there for about five minutes, until I was nearly run down
+by one of those beastly Neapolitan calèches loaded with twenty or
+thirty natives."
+
+"See here, old man, what a confoundedly good memory you have! You
+remember no end of a lot of things, and give all her speeches
+verbatim. What a capital newspaper reporter you'd make!"
+
+"Oh, it's only _her_ words, you know. She quickens my memory, and
+makes a different man of me."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Yes, old chap, a different man altogether."
+
+"So I say, by Jove! Head turned, eyes distorted, heart generally
+upset, circulation brought up to fever point, peace of mind gone, and
+a general mania in the place of the old self-reliance and content."
+
+"Not content, old boy; I never had much of that."
+
+"Well, we won't argue, will we? But as to the child-angel--what next?
+You'll call again?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Strike while the iron is hot, hey? Well, old man, I'll stand by you.
+Still I wish you could find out who her people are, just to satisfy a
+legitimate curiosity."
+
+"Well, I don't know the Fays, but Lady Dalrymple is her aunt; and I
+know, too, that she is a niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs."
+
+"What!" cried Hawbury, starting. "Who? Sir what?"
+
+"Sir Gilbert Biggs."
+
+"Sir Gilbert Biggs?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sir Gilbert Biggs! By Jove! Are you sure you are right? Come, now.
+Isn't there some mistake?"
+
+"Not a bit of a mistake; she's a niece of Sir Gilbert. I remember
+that, because the name is a familiar one."
+
+"Familiar!" repeated Hawbury; "I should think so. By Jove!"
+
+Hawbury here relapsed into silence, and sat with a frown on his face,
+and a puzzled expression. At times he would mutter such words as,
+"Deuced odd!" "Confounded queer!" "What a lot!" "By Jove!" while
+Dacres looked at him in some surprise.
+
+"Look here, old fellow!" said he at last. "Will you have the kindness
+to inform me what there is in the little fact I just mentioned to
+upset a man of your size, age, fighting weight, and general coolness
+of blood?"
+
+"Well, there is a deuced odd coincidence about it, that's all."
+
+"Coincidence with what?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell some other time. It's a sore subject, old fellow.
+Another time, my boy. I'll only mention now that it's the cause of my
+present absence from England. There's a bother that I don't care to
+encounter, and Sir Gilbert Biggs's nieces are at the bottom of it."
+
+"You don't mean this one, I hope?" cried Dacres, in some alarm.
+
+"Heaven forbid! By Jove! No. I hope not."
+
+"No, I hope not, by Jove!" echoed the other.
+
+"Well, old man," said Hawbury, after a fit of silence, "I suppose
+you'll push matters on now, hard and fast, and launch yourself into
+matrimony?"
+
+"Well--I--suppose--so," said Dacres, hesitatingly.
+
+"You _suppose_ so. Of course you will. Don't I know you, old chap?
+Impetuous, tenacious of purpose, iron will, one idea, and all that
+sort of thing. Of course you will; and you'll be married in a month."
+
+"Well," said Dacres, in the same hesitating way, "not so soon as that,
+I'm afraid."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why, I have to get the lady first."
+
+"The lady; oh, she seems to be willing enough, judging from your
+description. Her pleading look at you. Why, man, there was love at
+first sight. Then tumbling down the crater of a volcano, and getting
+fished out. Why, man, what woman could resist a claim like that,
+especially when it is enforced by a man like Scone Dacres? And, by
+Jove! Sconey, allow me to inform you that I've always considered you a
+most infernally handsome man; and what's more, my opinion is worth
+something, by Jove!"
+
+Hereupon Hawbury stretched his head and shoulders back, and pulled
+away with each hand at his long yellow pendent whiskers. Then he
+yawned. And then he slowly ejaculated,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well," said Dacres, thoughtfully, "there is something in what you
+say; and, to tell the truth, I think there's not a bad chance for me,
+so far as the lady herself is concerned; but the difficulty is not in
+that quarter."
+
+"Not in that quarter! Why, where the mischief else could there be any
+difficulty, man?"
+
+Dacres was silent.
+
+"You're eager enough?"
+
+Dacres nodded his head sadly.
+
+"Eager! why, eager isn't the word. You're mad, man--mad as a March
+hare! So go in and win."
+
+Dacres said nothing.
+
+"You're rich, not over old, handsome, well born, well bred, and have
+saved the lady's life by extricating her from the crater of a volcano.
+She seems too young and childlike to have had any other affairs. She's
+probably just out of school; not been into society; not come out; just
+the girl. Confound these girls, I say, that have gone through
+engagements with other fellows!"
+
+"Oh, as to that," said Dacres, "this little thing is just like a
+child, and in her very simplicity does not know what love is.
+Engagement! By Jove, I don't believe she knows the meaning of the
+word! She's perfectly fresh, artless, simple, and guileless. I don't
+believe she ever heard a word of sentiment or tenderness from any man
+in her life."
+
+"Very likely; so where's the difficulty?"
+
+"Well, to tell the truth, the difficulty is in my own affairs."
+
+"Your affairs! Odd, too. What's up? I didn't know any thing had
+happened. That's too infernal bad, too."
+
+"Oh, it's nothing of that sort; money's all right; no swindle. It's an
+affair of another character altogether."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And one, too, that makes me think that--"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"That what?"
+
+"That I'd better start for Australia."
+
+"Australia!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What's the meaning of that?"
+
+"Why," said Dacres, gloomily, "it means giving up the child-angel, and
+trying to forget her--if I ever can."
+
+"Forget her! What's the meaning of all this? Why, man, five minutes
+ago you were all on fire about her, and now you talk quietly about
+giving her up! I'm all adrift."
+
+"Well, it's a mixed up matter."
+
+"What is?"
+
+"My affair."
+
+"Your affair; something that has happened?"
+
+"Yes. It's a sore matter, and I don't care to speak about it just
+now."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And it's the real cause why I don't go back to England."
+
+"The mischief it is! Why, Dacres, I'll be hanged if you're not using
+the very words I myself used a few minutes ago."
+
+"Am I?" said Dacres, gloomily.
+
+"You certainly are; and that makes me think that our affairs are in a
+similar complication."
+
+"Oh no; mine is very peculiar."
+
+"Well, there's one thing I should like to ask, and you needn't answer
+unless you like."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Doesn't your difficulty arise from some confounded woman or other?"
+
+"Well--yes."
+
+"By Jove, I knew it! And, old fellow, I'm in the same situation."
+
+[Illustration: "BY JOVE, I KNEW IT!"]
+
+"Oh ho! So you're driven away from England by a woman?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+Dacres sighed heavily.
+
+"Yours can't be as bad as mine," said he, with a dismal look. "Mine is
+the worst scrape that ever you heard of. And look at me now, with the
+child-angel all ready to take me, and me not able to be taken.
+Confound the abominable complications of an accursed civilization, I
+say!"
+
+"And I say, Amen!" said Hawbury.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FIERY TRIAL.
+
+
+"See here, old chap," said Hawbury, "I'm going to make a clean breast
+of it."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of my affair."
+
+"That's right," said Dacres, dolefully. "I should like of all things
+to hear it."
+
+"You see I wouldn't tell you, only you yourself turn out to be in a
+similar situation, and so what I have to say may prove of use to you.
+At any rate, you may give me some useful suggestion.
+
+"Very well, then," continued Hawbury--"to begin. You may remember that
+I told you when we met here where I had been passing the time since I
+saw you last."
+
+Dacres nodded assent.
+
+"Well, about two years ago I was in Canada. I went there for sport,
+and plunged at once into the wilderness. And let me tell you it's a
+very pretty country for hunting. Lots of game--fish, flesh, and
+fowl--from the cariboo down to the smallest trout that you would care
+to hook. Glorious country; magnificent forests waiting for the
+lumberman; air that acts on you like wine, or even better; rivers and
+lakes in all directions; no end of sport and all that sort of thing,
+you know. Have you ever been in Canada?"
+
+"Only traveled through."
+
+"Well, the next time you feel inclined for high art sport we'll go
+together, and have no end of fun--that is, if you're not married and
+done for, which, of course, you will be. No matter. I was saying that
+I was in a fine country. I spent a couple of months there with two or
+three Indians, and at length started for Ottawa on my way home. The
+Indians put me on the right path, after which I dismissed them, and
+set out alone with my gun and fishing-rod.
+
+"The first day was all very well, and I slept well enough the first
+night; but on the morning of the second day I found the air full of
+smoke. However, I did not give much thought to that, for there had
+been a smoky look about the sky for a week, and the woods are always
+burning there, I believe, in one place or another. I kept on, and shot
+enough for food, and thus the second day passed. That evening the air
+was quite suffocating, and it was as hot as an oven. I struggled
+through the night, I don't know how; and then on the third day made
+another start. This third day was abominable. The atmosphere was
+beastly hot; the sky was a dull yellow, and the birds seemed to have
+all disappeared. As I went on it grew worse, but I found it was not
+because the fires were in front of me. On the contrary, they were
+behind me, and were driving on so that they were gradually approaching
+nearer. I could do my thirty miles a day even in that rough country,
+but the fires could do more. At last I came into a track that was a
+little wider than the first one. As I went on I met cattle which
+appeared stupefied. Showers of dust were in the air; the atmosphere
+was worse than ever, and I never had such difficulty in my life in
+walking along. I had to throw away my rifle and fishing-rod, and was
+just thinking of pitching my clothes after them, when suddenly I
+turned a bend in the path, and met a young girl full in the face.
+
+"By Jove! I swear I never was so astounded in my life. I hurried up to
+her, and just began to ask where I was, when she interrupted me with a
+question of the same kind. By-the-way, I forgot to say that she was on
+horseback. The poor devil of a horse seemed to have had a deuced hard
+time of it too, for he was trembling from head to foot, though whether
+that arose from fatigue or fright I don't know. Perhaps it was both.
+
+"Well, the girl was evidently very much alarmed. She was awfully pale;
+she was a monstrous pretty girl too--the prettiest by all odds I ever
+saw, and that's saying a good deal. By Jove! Well, it turned out that
+she had been stopping in the back country for a month, at a house
+somewhere up the river, with her father. Her father had gone down to
+Ottawa a week before, and was expected back on this day. She had come
+out to meet him, and had lost her way. She had been out for hours, and
+was completely bewildered. She was also frightened at the fires, which
+now seemed to be all around us. This she told me in a few words, and
+asked if I knew where the river was.
+
+"Of course I knew no more than she did, and it needed only a few words
+from me to show her that I was as much in the dark as she was. I began
+to question her, however, as to this river, for it struck me that in
+the present state of affairs a river would not be a bad thing to have
+near one. In answer to my question she said that she had come upon
+this road from the woods on the left, and therefore it was evident
+that the river lay in that direction.
+
+"I assured her that I would do whatever lay in my power; and with that
+I walked on in the direction in which I had been going, while she rode
+by my side. Some further questions as to the situation of the house
+where she had been staying showed me that it was on the banks of the
+river about fifty miles above Ottawa. By my own calculations I was
+about that distance away. It seemed to me, then, that she had got lost
+in the woods, and had wandered thus over some trail to the path where
+she had met me. Every thing served to show me that the river lay to
+the left, and so I resolved to turn in at the first path which I
+reached.
+
+"At length, after about two miles, we came to a path which went into
+the woods. My companion was sure that this was the very one by which
+she had come out, and this confirmed the impression which the sight of
+it had given me. I thought it certainly must lead toward the river. So
+we turned into this path. I went first, and she followed, and so we
+went for about a couple of miles further.
+
+"All this time the heat had been getting worse and worse. The air was
+more smoky than ever; my mouth was parched and dry. I breathed with
+difficulty, and could scarcely drag one leg after another. The lady
+was almost as much exhausted as I was, and suffered acutely, as I
+could easily see, though she uttered not a word of complaint. Her
+horse also suffered terribly, and did not seem able to bear her weight
+much longer. The poor brute trembled and staggered, and once or twice
+stopped, so that it was difficult to start him again. The road had
+gone in a winding way, but was not so crooked as I expected. I
+afterward found that she had gone by other paths until she had found
+herself in thick woods, and then on trying to retrace her way she had
+strayed into this path. If she had turned to the left on first
+reaching it, instead of to the right, the fate of each of us would
+have been different. Our meeting was no doubt the salvation of both.
+
+"There was a wooded eminence in front, which we had been steadily
+approaching for some time. At last we reached the top, and here a
+scene burst upon us which was rather startling. The hill was high
+enough to command an extensive view, and the first thing that we saw
+was a vast extent of woods and water and smoke. By-and-by we were able
+to distinguish each. The water was the river, which could be seen for
+miles. Up the river toward the left the smoke arose in great volumes,
+covering every thing; while in front of us, and immediately between us
+and the river, there was a line of smoke which showed that the fires
+had penetrated there and had intercepted us.
+
+"We stood still in bewilderment. I looked all around. To go back was
+as bad as to go forward, for there, also, a line of smoke arose which
+showed the progress of the flames. To the right there was less smoke;
+but in that direction there was only a wilderness, through which we
+could not hope to pass for any distance. The only hope was the river.
+If we could traverse the flames in that direction, so as to reach the
+water, we would be safe. In a few words I communicated my decision to
+my companion. She said nothing, but bowed her head in acquiescence.
+
+"Without delaying any longer we resumed our walk. After about a mile
+we found ourselves compelled once more to halt. The view here was
+worse than ever. The path was now as wide as an ordinary road, and
+grew wider still as it went on. It was evidently used to haul logs
+down to the river, and as it approached the bank it grew steadily
+wider; but between us and the river the woods were all burning. The
+first rush of the fire was over, and now we looked forward and saw a
+vast array of columns--the trunks of burned trees--some blackened and
+charred, others glowing red. The ground below was also glowing red,
+with blackened spaces here and there.
+
+"Still the burned tract was but a strip, and there lay our hope. The
+fire, by some strange means, had passed on a track not wider than a
+hundred yards, and this was what had to be traversed by us. The
+question was, whether we could pass through that or not. The same
+question came to both of us, and neither of us said a word. But before
+I could ask the lady about it, her horse became frightened at the
+flames. I advised her to dismount, for I knew that the poor brute
+could never be forced through those fires. She did so, and the horse,
+with a horrible snort, turned and galloped wildly away.
+
+"I now looked around once more, and saw that there was no escape
+except in front. The flames were encircling us, and a vast cloud of
+smoke surrounded us every where, rising far up and rolling overhead.
+Cinders fell in immense showers, and the fine ashes, with which the
+air was filled, choked us and got into our eyes.
+
+"'There is only one chance,' said I; 'and that is to make a dash for
+the river. Can you do it?'
+
+"'I'll try,' she said.
+
+"'We'll have to go through the fires.'
+
+"She nodded.
+
+"'Well, then,' I said, 'do as I say. Take off your sacque and wrap it
+around your head and shoulders.'
+
+"She took off her sacque at this. It was a loose robe of merino or
+alpaca, or something of that sort, and very well suited for what I
+wanted. I wrapped it round her so as to protect her face, head, and
+shoulders; and taking off my coat I did the same.
+
+"'Now,' said I, 'hold your breath as well as you can. You may keep
+your eyes shut. Give me your hand--I'll lead you.'
+
+"Taking her hand I led her forward at a rapid pace. Once she fell, but
+she quickly recovered herself, and soon we reached the edge of the
+flames.
+
+"I tell you what it is, my boy, the heat was terrific, and the sight
+was more so. The river was not more than a hundred yards away, but
+between us and it there lay what seemed as bad as the burning fiery
+furnace of Messrs. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. If I were now
+standing there, I don't think I could face it. But then I was with the
+girl; I had to save her. Fire was behind us, racing after us; water
+lay in front. Once there and we were safe. It was not a time to dawdle
+or hesitate, I can assure you.
+
+"'Now,' said I, 'run for your life!'
+
+"Grasping her hand more firmly, I started off with her at the full
+run. The place was terrible, and grew worse at every step. The road
+here was about fifty feet wide. On each side was the burning forest,
+with a row of burned trees like fiery columns, and the moss and
+underbrush still glowing beneath. To pass through that was a thing
+that it don't do to look back upon. The air was intolerable. I wrapped
+my coat tighter over my head; my arms were thus exposed, and I felt
+the heat on my hands. But that was nothing to the torments that I
+endured from trying to breathe. Besides this, the enormous effort of
+keeping up a run made breathing all the more difficult. A feeling of
+despair came over me. Already we had gone half the distance, but at
+that moment the space seemed lengthened out interminably, and I looked
+in horror at the rest of the way, with a feeling of the utter
+impossibility of traversing it.
+
+[Illustration: THE FIERY TRIAL.]
+
+"Suddenly the lady fell headlong. I stopped and raised her up. My coat
+fell off; I felt the fiery air all round my face and head. I called
+and screamed to the lady as I tried to raise her up; but she said
+nothing. She was as lifeless as a stone.
+
+"Well, my boy, I thought it was all up with me; but I, at least, could
+stand, though I did not think that I could take another breath. As for
+the lady, there was no help for it; so I grasped her with all my
+strength, still keeping her head covered as well as I could, and slung
+her over my shoulders. Then away I ran. I don't remember much after
+that. I must have lost my senses then, and, what is more, I must have
+accomplished the rest of the journey in that semi-unconscious state.
+
+"What I do remember is this--a wild plunge into the water; and the
+delicious coolness that I felt all around restored me, and I at once
+comprehended all. The lady was by my side; the shock and the cool
+water had restored her also. She was standing up to her shoulders just
+where she had fallen, and was panting and sobbing. I spoke a few words
+of good cheer, and then looked around for some place of refuge. Just
+where we stood there was nothing but fire and desolation, and it was
+necessary to go further away. Well, some distance out, about half-way
+across the river, I saw a little island, with rocky sides, and trees
+on the top. It looked safe and cool and inviting. I determined to try
+to get there. Some deals were in the water by the bank, which had
+probably floated down from some saw-mill. I took half a dozen of
+these, flung two or three more on top of them, and then told the lady
+my plan. It was to float out to the island by means of this raft. I
+offered to put her on it and let her float; but she refused,
+preferring to be in the water.
+
+"The river was pretty wide here, and the water was shallow, so that we
+were able to wade for a long distance, pushing the raft before us. At
+length it became deep, and then the lady held on while I floated and
+tried to direct the raft toward the island. I had managed while wading
+to guide the raft up the stream, so that when we got into deep water
+the current carried us toward the island. At length we reached it
+without much difficulty, and then, utterly worn out, I fell down on
+the grass, and either fainted away or fell asleep.
+
+"When I revived I had several very queer sensations. The first thing
+that I noticed was that I hadn't any whiskers."
+
+"What! no whiskers?"
+
+"No--all gone; and my eyebrows and mustache, and every wisp of hair
+from my head."
+
+"See here, old fellow, do you mean to say that you've only taken one
+year to grow those infernally long whiskers that you have now?"
+
+"It's a fact, my boy!"
+
+"I wouldn't have believed it; but some fellows can do such
+extraordinary things. But drive on."
+
+"Well, the next thing I noticed was that it was as smoky as ever. Then
+I jumped up and looked around. I felt quite dry, though it seemed as
+if I had just come from the river. As I jumped up and turned I saw my
+friend. She looked much better than she had. Her clothes also were
+quite dry. She greeted me with a mournful smile, and rose up from the
+trunk of a tree where she had been sitting, and made inquiries after
+my health with the most earnest and tender sympathy.
+
+"I told her I was all right, laughed about my hair, and inquired very
+anxiously how she was. She assured me that she was as well as ever.
+Some conversation followed; and then, to my amazement, I found that I
+had slept for an immense time, or had been unconscious, whichever it
+was, and that the adventure had taken place on the preceding day. It
+was now about the middle of the next day. You may imagine how
+confounded I was at that.
+
+[Illustration:
+"ALL GONE; MY EYEBROWS, AND MUSTACHE, AND EVERY WISP OF
+HAIR FROM MY HEAD."]
+
+"The air was still abominably close and smoky; so I looked about the
+island, and found a huge crevice in the rocks, which was almost a
+cave. It was close by the water, and was far cooler than outside. In
+fact, it was rather comfortable than otherwise. Here we took refuge,
+and talked over our situation. As far as we could see, the whole
+country was burned up. A vast cloud of smoke hung over all. One
+comfort was that the glow had ceased on the river-bank, and only a
+blackened forest now remained, with giant trees arising, all blasted.
+We found that our stay would be a protracted one.
+
+"The first thing that I thought of was food. Fortunately I had my
+hooks and lines; so I cut a pole, and fastening my line to it, I
+succeeded in catching a few fish.
+
+"We lived there for two days on fish in that manner. The lady was sad
+and anxious. I tried to cheer her up. Her chief trouble was the fear
+that her father was lost. In the course of our conversations I found
+out that her name was Ethel Orne."
+
+"Ethel Orne?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Don't think I ever heard the name before. Orne? No, I'm sure I
+haven't. It isn't Horn?"
+
+"No; Orne--O R N E. Oh, there's no trouble about that.
+
+"Well, I rather enjoyed this island life, but she was awfully
+melancholy; so I hit upon a plan for getting away. I went to the shore
+and collected a lot of the deals that I mentioned, and made a very
+decent sort of raft. I found a pole to guide it with, cut a lot of
+brush for Ethel, and then we started, and floated down the river. We
+didn't have any accidents. The only bother was that she was too
+confoundedly anxious about me, and wouldn't let me work. We went
+ashore every evening. We caught fish enough to eat. We were afloat
+three days, and, naturally enough, became very well acquainted."
+
+Hawbury stopped, and sighed.
+
+"I tell you what it is, Dacres," said he, "there never lived a nobler,
+more generous, and at the same time a braver soul than Ethel Orne. She
+never said a word about gratitude and all that, but there was a
+certain quiet look of devotion about her that gives me a deuced queer
+feeling now when I think of it all."
+
+"And I dare say--But no matter."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, I was only going to remark that, under the circumstances, there
+might have been a good deal of quiet devotion about you."
+
+Hawbury made no reply, but sat silent for a time.
+
+"Well, go on, man; don't keep me in suspense."
+
+"Let me see--where was I? Oh! floating on the raft. Well, we floated
+that way, as I said, for three days, and at the end of that time we
+reached a settlement. Here we found a steamer, and went on further,
+and finally reached Ottawa. Here she went to the house of a friend. I
+called on her as soon as possible, and found her in fearful anxiety.
+She had learned that her father had gone up with a Mr. Willoughby, and
+neither had been heard from.
+
+"Startled at this intelligence, I instituted a search myself. I could
+not find out any thing, but only that there was good reason to believe
+that both of the unhappy gentlemen had perished. On returning to the
+house to call on Ethel, about a week after, I found that she had
+received full confirmation of this dreadful intelligence, and had gone
+to Montreal. It seems that Willoughby's wife was a relative of
+Ethel's, and she had gone to stay with her. I longed to see her, but
+of course I could not intrude upon her in her grief; and so I wrote to
+her, expressing all the condolence I could. I told her that I was
+going to Europe, but would return in the following year. I couldn't
+say any more than that, you know. It wasn't a time for sentiment, of
+course.
+
+"Well, I received a short note in reply. She said she would look
+forward to seeing me again with pleasure, and all that; and that she
+could never forget the days we had spent together.
+
+"So off I went, and in the following year I returned. But on reaching
+Montreal, what was my disgust, on calling at Mrs. Willoughby's, to
+find that she had given up her house, sold her furniture, and left the
+city. No one knew any thing about her, and they said that she had only
+come to the city a few months before her bereavement, and after that
+had never made any acquaintances. Some said she had gone to the United
+States; others thought she had gone to Quebec; others to England; but
+no one knew any thing more."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A STARTLING REVELATION.
+
+
+"It seems to me, Hawbury," said Dacres, after a period of thoughtful
+silence--"it seems to me that when you talk of people having their
+heads turned, you yourself comprehend the full meaning of that
+sensation?"
+
+"Somewhat."
+
+"You knocked under at once, of course, to your Ethel?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And feel the same way toward her yet?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Hit hard?"
+
+"Yes; and that's what I'm coming to. The fact is, my whole business in
+life for the last year has been to find her out."
+
+"You haven't dawdled so much, then, as people suppose?"
+
+"No; that's all very well to throw people off a fellow's scent; but
+you know me well enough, Dacres; and we didn't dawdle much in South
+America, did we?"
+
+"That's true, my boy; but as to this lady, what is it that makes it so
+hard for you to find her? In the first place, is she an American?"
+
+"Oh no."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, accent, manner, tone, idiom, and a hundred other things. Why, of
+course, you know as well as I that an American lady is as different
+from an English as a French or a German lady is. They may be all
+equally ladies, but each nation has its own peculiarities."
+
+"Is she Canadian?"
+
+"Possibly. It is not always easy to tell a Canadian lady from an
+English. They imitate us out there a good deal. I could tell in the
+majority of cases, but there are many who can not be distinguished
+from us very easily. And Ethel may be one."
+
+"Why mayn't she be English?"
+
+"She may be. It's impossible to perceive any difference."
+
+"Have you ever made any inquiries about her in England?"
+
+"No; I've not been in England much, and from the way she talked to me
+I concluded that her home was in Canada."
+
+"Was her father an Englishman?"
+
+"I really don't know."
+
+"Couldn't you find out?"
+
+"No. You see he had but recently moved to Montreal, like Willoughby;
+and I could not find any people who were acquainted with him."
+
+"He may have been English all the time."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she too."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"And she may be in England now."
+
+Hawbury started to his feet, and stared in silence at his friend for
+several minutes.
+
+"By Jove!" he cried; "if I thought that, I swear I'd start for home
+this evening, and hunt about every where for the representatives of
+the Orne family. But no--surely it can't be possible."
+
+"Were you in London last season?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, how do you know but that she was there?"
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"And the belle of the season, too?"
+
+"She would be if she were there, by Jove!"
+
+"Yes, if there wasn't another present that I wot of."
+
+"Well, we won't argue about that; besides, I haven't come to the point
+yet."
+
+"The point?"
+
+"Yes, the real reason why I'm here, when I'm wanted home."
+
+"The real reason? Why, haven't you been telling it to me all along?"
+
+"Well, no; I haven't got to the point yet."
+
+"Drive on, then, old man."
+
+"Well, you know," continued Hawbury, "after hunting all through Canada
+I gave up in despair, and concluded that Ethel was lost to me, at
+least for the present. That was only about six or seven months ago. So
+I went home, and spent a month in a shooting-box on the Highlands;
+then I went to Ireland to visit a friend; and then to London. While
+there I got a long letter from my mother. The good soul was convinced
+that I was wasting my life; she urged me to settle down, and finally
+informed me that she had selected a wife for me. Now I want you to
+understand, old boy, that I fully appreciated my mother's motives. She
+was quite right, I dare say, about my wasting my life; quite right,
+too, about the benefit of settling down; and she was also very kind to
+take all the trouble of selecting a wife off my hands. Under other
+circumstances I dare say I should have thought the matter over, and
+perhaps I should have been induced even to go so far as to survey the
+lady from a distance, and argue the point with my mother pro and con.
+But the fact is, the thing was distasteful, and wouldn't bear thinking
+about, much less arguing. I was too lazy to go and explain the matter,
+and writing was not my forte. Besides, I didn't want to thwart my
+mother in her plans, or hurt her feelings; and so the long and the
+short of it is, I solved the difficulty and cut the knot by crossing
+quietly over to Norway. I wrote a short note to my mother, making no
+allusion to her project, and since then I've been gradually working my
+way down to the bottom of the map of Europe, and here I am."
+
+"You didn't see the lady, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Who was she?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Don't know the lady?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Odd, too! Haven't you any idea? Surely her name was mentioned?"
+
+"No; my mother wrote in a roundabout style, so as to feel her way. She
+knew me, and feared that I might take a prejudice against the lady. No
+doubt I should have done so. She only alluded to her in a general
+way."
+
+"A general way?"
+
+"Yes; that is, you know, she mentioned the fact that the lady was a
+niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs."
+
+"What!" cried Dacres, with a start.
+
+"A niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs," repeated Hawbury.
+
+"A niece--of--Sir Gilbert Biggs?" said Dacres, slowly. "Good Lord!"
+
+"Yes; and what of that?"
+
+"Very much. Don't you know that Minnie Fay is a niece of Sir Gilbert
+Biggs?"
+
+"By Jove! So she is. I remember being startled when you told me that,
+and for a moment an odd fancy came to me. I wondered whether your
+child-angel might not be the identical being about whom my poor dear
+mother went into such raptures. Good Lord! what a joke! By Jove!"
+
+"A joke!" growled Dacres. "I don't see any joke in it. I remember when
+you said that Biggs's nieces were at the bottom of your troubles, I
+asked whether it might be this one."
+
+"So you did, old chap; and I replied that I hoped not. So you need not
+shake your gory locks at me, my boy."
+
+"But I don't like the looks of it."
+
+"Neither do I."
+
+"Yes, but you see it looks as though she had been already set apart
+for you especially."
+
+"And pray, old man, what difference can that make, when I don't set
+myself apart for any thing of the kind?"
+
+Dacres sat in silence with a gloomy frown over his brow.
+
+"Besides, are you aware, my boy, of the solemn fact that Biggs's
+nieces are legion?" said Hawbury. "The man himself is an infernal old
+bloke; and as to his nieces--heavens and earth!--old! old as
+Methuselah; and as to this one, she must be a grandniece--a second
+generation. She's not a true, full-blooded niece. Now the lady I refer
+to was one of the original Biggs's nieces. There's no mistake whatever
+about that, for I have it in black and white, under my mother's own
+hand."
+
+"Oh, she would select the best of them for you."
+
+"No, she wouldn't. How do you know that?"
+
+"There's no doubt about that."
+
+"It depends upon what you mean by the best. The one _you_ call the
+best might not seem so to _her_, and so on. Now I dare say she's
+picked out for me a great, raw-boned, redheaded niece, with a nose
+like a horse. And she expects me to marry a woman like that! with a
+pace like a horse! Good Lord!"
+
+And Hawbury leaned back, lost in the immensity of that one
+overwhelming idea.
+
+"Besides," said he, standing up, "I don't care if she was the angel
+Gabriel. I don't want any of Biggs's nieces. I won't have them. By
+Jove! And am I to be entrapped into a plan like that? I want Ethel.
+And what's more, I will have her, or go without. The child-angel may
+be the very identical one that my mother selected, and if you assert
+that she is, I'll be hanged if I'll argue the point. I only say this,
+that it doesn't alter my position in the slightest degree. I don't
+want her. I won't have her. I don't want to see her. I don't care if
+the whole of Biggs's nieces, in solemn conclave, with old Biggs at
+their head, had formally discussed the whole matter, and finally
+resolved unanimously that she should be mine. Good Lord, man! don't
+you understand how it is? What the mischief do I care about any body?
+Do you think I went through that fiery furnace for nothing? And what
+do you suppose that life on the island meant? Is all that nothing? Did
+you ever live on an island with the child-angel? Did you ever make a
+raft for her and fly? Did you ever float down a river current between
+banks burned black by raging fires, feeding her, soothing her,
+comforting her, and all the while feeling in a general fever about
+her? You hauled her out of a crater, did you? By Jove! And what of
+that? Why, that furnace that I pulled Ethel out of was worse than a
+hundred of your craters. And yet, after all that, you think that I
+could be swayed by the miserable schemes of a lot of Biggs's nieces!
+And you scowl at a fellow, and get huffy and jealous. By Jove!"
+
+After this speech, which was delivered with unusual animation, Hawbury
+lighted a cigar, which he puffed at most energetically.
+
+"All right, old boy," said Dacres. "A fellow's apt to judge others by
+himself, you know. Don't make any more set speeches, though. I begin
+to understand your position. Besides, after all--"
+
+Dacres paused, and the dark frown that was on his brow grew still
+darker.
+
+"After all what?" asked Hawbury, who now began to perceive that
+another feeling besides jealousy was the cause of his friend's gloomy
+melancholy.
+
+"Well, after all, you know, old fellow, I fear I'll have to give her
+up."
+
+"Give her up?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's what you said before, and you mentioned Australia, and that
+rot."
+
+"The more I think of it," said Dacres, dismally, and regarding the
+opposite wall with a steady yet mournful stare--"the more I think of
+it, the more I see that there's no such happiness in store for me."
+
+"Pooh, man! what is it all about? This is the secret that you spoke
+about, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; and it's enough to put a barrier between me and her. Was I
+jealous? Did I seem huffy? What an idiot I must have been! Why, old
+man, I can't do any thing or say any thing."
+
+"The man's mad," said Hawbury, addressing himself to a carved
+tobacco-box on the table.
+
+"Mad? Yes, I was mad enough in ever letting myself be overpowered by
+this bright dream. Here have I been giving myself up to a phantom--an
+empty illusion--and now it's all over. My eyes are open."
+
+"You may as well open my eyes too; for I'll be hanged if I can see my
+way through this!"
+
+"Strange! strange! strange!" continued Dacres, in a kind of soliloquy,
+not noticing Hawbury's words. "How a man will sometimes forget
+realities, and give himself up to dreams! It was my dream of the
+child-angel that so turned my brain. I must see her no more."
+
+"Very well, old boy," said Hawbury. "Now speak Chinese a little for
+variety. I'll understand you quite as well. I will, by Jove!"
+
+"And then, for a fellow that's had an experience like mine--before and
+since," continued Dacres, still speaking in the tone of one who was
+meditating aloud--"to allow such an idea even for a moment to take
+shape in his brain! What an utter, unmitigated, unmanageable, and
+unimprovable idiot, ass, dolt, and blockhead! Confound such a man! I
+say; confound him!"
+
+[Illustration: "CONFOUND SUCH A MAN! I SAY."]
+
+And as Dacres said this he brought his fist down upon the table near
+him with such an energetic crash that a wine-flask was sent spinning
+on the floor, where its ruby contents splashed out in a pool,
+intermingled with fragments of glass.
+
+Dacres was startled by the crash, and looked at it for a while in
+silence. Then he raised his head and looked at his friend. Hawbury
+encountered his glance without any expression. He merely sat and
+smoked and passed his fingers through his pendent whiskers.
+
+"Excuse me," said Dacres, abruptly.
+
+"Certainly, my dear boy, a thousand times; only I hope you will allow
+me to remark that your style is altogether a new one, and during the
+whole course of our acquaintance I do not remember seeing it before.
+You have a melodramatic way that is overpowering. Still I don't see
+why you should swear at yourself in a place like Naples, where there
+are so many other things to swear at. It's a waste of human energy,
+and I don't understand it. We usedn't to indulge in soliloquies in
+South America, used we?"
+
+[Illustration: "HAWBURY SANK BACK IN HIS SEAT, OVERWHELMED."]
+
+"No, by Jove! And look here, old chap, you'll overlook this little
+outburst, won't you? In South America I was always cool, and you did
+the hard swearing, my boy. I'll be cool again; and what's more, I'll
+get back to South America again as soon as I can. Once on the pampas,
+and I'll be a man again. I tell you what it is, I'll start to-morrow.
+What do you say? Come."
+
+"Oh no," said Hawbury, coolly; "I can't do that. I have business, you
+know."
+
+"Business?"
+
+"Oh yes, you know--Ethel, you know."
+
+"By Jove! so you have. That alters the matter."
+
+"But in any case I wouldn't go, nor would you. I still am quite unable
+to understand you. Why you should grow desperate, and swear at
+yourself, and then propose South America, is quite beyond me. Above
+all, I don't yet see any reason why you should give up your
+child-angel. You were all raptures but a short time since. Why are you
+so cold now?"
+
+"I'll tell you," said Dacres.
+
+"So you said ever so long ago."
+
+"It's a sore subject, and difficult to speak about."
+
+"Well, old man, I'm sorry for you; and don't speak about it at all if
+it gives you pain."
+
+"Oh, I'll make a clean breast of it. You've told your affair, and I'll
+tell mine. I dare say I'll feel all the better for it."
+
+"Drive on, then, old man."
+
+Dacres rose, took a couple of glasses of beer in quick succession,
+then resumed his seat, then picked out a cigar from the box with
+unusual fastidiousness, then drew a match, then lighted the cigar,
+then sent out a dozen heavy volumes of smoke, which encircled him so
+completely that he became quite concealed from Hawbury's view. But
+even this cloud did not seem sufficient to correspond with the gloom
+of his soul. Other clouds rolled forth, and still others, until all
+their congregated folds encircled him, and in the midst there was a
+dim vision of a big head, whose stiff, high, curling, crisp hair, and
+massive brow, and dense beard, seemed like some living manifestation
+of cloud-compelling Jove.
+
+For some time there was silence, and Hawbury said nothing, but waited
+for his friend to speak.
+
+At last a voice was heard--deep, solemn, awful, portentous, ominous,
+sorrow-laden, weird, mysterious, prophetic, obscure, gloomy, doleful,
+dismal, and apocalyptic.
+
+"_Hawbury!_"
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"HAWBURY!"
+
+"All right."
+
+"Are you listening?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"_Well--I'm--married!_"
+
+Hawbury sprang to his feet as though he had been shot.
+
+"What!" he cried.
+
+"_I'm married!_"
+
+"You're what? Married? _You! married!_ Scone Dacres! not you--not
+_married?_"
+
+"_I'm married!_"
+
+"Good Lord!"
+
+"_I'm married_!"
+
+Hawbury sank back in his seat, overwhelmed by the force of this sudden
+and tremendous revelation. For some time there was a deep silence.
+Both were smoking. The clouds rolled forth from the lips of each, and
+curled over their heads, and twined in voluminous folds, and gathered
+over them in dark, impenetrable masses. Even so rested the clouds of
+doubt, of darkness, and of gloom over the soul of each, and those
+which were visible to the eye seemed to typify, symbolize,
+characterize, and body forth the darker clouds that overshadowed the
+mind.
+
+"_I'm married_!" repeated Dacres, who now seemed to have become like
+Poe's raven, and all his words one melancholy burden bore.
+
+"You were not married when I was last with you?" said Hawbury at last,
+in the tone of one who was recovering from a fainting fit.
+
+"Yes, I was."
+
+"Not in South America?"
+
+"Yes, in South America."
+
+"Married?"
+
+"Yes, married."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Yes; and what's more, I've been married for ten years."
+
+"Ten years! Good Lord!"
+
+"It's true."
+
+"Why, how old could you have been when you got married?"
+
+"A miserable, ignorant, inexperienced dolt, idiot, and brat of a boy."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, the secret's out; and now, if you care to hear, I will tell you
+all about it."
+
+"I'm dying to hear, dear boy; so go on."
+
+And at this Scone Dacres began his story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A MAD WIFE.
+
+
+"I'll tell you all about it," said Scone Dacres; "but don't laugh, for
+matters like these are not to be trifled with, and I may take
+offense."
+
+"Oh, bother, as if I ever laugh at any thing serious! By Jove! no. You
+don't know me, old chap."
+
+"All right, then. Well, to begin. This wife that I speak of happened
+to me very suddenly. I was only a boy, just out of Oxford, and just
+into my fortune. I was on my way to Paris--my first visit--and was
+full of no end of projects for enjoyment. I went from Dover, and in
+the steamer there was the most infernally pretty girl. Black,
+mischievous eyes, with the devil's light in them; hair curly, crispy,
+frisky, luxuriant, all tossing over her head and shoulders, and an
+awfully enticing manner. A portly old bloke was with her--her father,
+I afterward learned. Somehow my hat blew off. She laughed. I laughed.
+Our eyes met. I made a merry remark. She laughed again; and there we
+were, introduced. She gave me a little felt hat of her own. I fastened
+it on in triumph with a bit of string, and wore it all the rest of the
+way.
+
+"Well, you understand it all. Of course, by the time we got to Calais,
+I was head over heels in love, and so was she, for that matter. The
+old man was a jolly old John Bull of a man. I don't believe he had the
+slightest approach to any designs on me. He didn't know any thing
+about me, so how could he? He was jolly, and when we got to Calais he
+was convivial. I attached myself to the two, and had a glorious time.
+Before three days I had exchanged vows of eternal fidelity with the
+lady, and all that, and had gained her consent to marry me on reaching
+England. As to the old man there was no trouble at all. He made no
+inquiries about my means, but wrung my hand heartily, and said God
+bless me. Besides, there were no friends of my own to consider. My
+parents were dead, and I had no relations nearer than cousins, for
+whom I didn't care a pin.
+
+"My wife lived at Exeter, and belonged to rather common people; but,
+of course, I didn't care for that. Her own manners and style were
+refined enough. She had been sent by her father to a very fashionable
+boarding-school, where she had been run through the same mould as that
+in which her superiors had been formed, and so she might have passed
+muster any where. Her father was awfully fond of her, and proud of
+her. She tyrannized over him completely. I soon found out that she had
+been utterly spoiled by his excessive indulgence, and that she was the
+most whimsical, nonsensical, headstrong, little spoiled beauty that
+ever lived. But, of course, all that, instead of deterring me, only
+increased the fascination which she exercised, and made me more madly
+in love than ever.
+
+"Her name was not a particularly attractive one; but what are names!
+It was Arethusa Wiggins. Now the old man always called her "Arry,"
+which sounded like the vulgar pronunciation of "Harry." Of course I
+couldn't call her that, and Arethusa was too infernally long, for a
+fellow doesn't want to be all day in pronouncing his wife's name.
+Besides, it isn't a bad name in itself, of course; it's poetic,
+classic, and does to name a ship of war, but isn't quite the thing for
+one's home and hearth.
+
+"After our marriage we spent the honeymoon in Switzerland, and then
+came home. I had a very nice estate, and have it yet. You've never
+heard of Dacres Grange, perhaps--well, there's where we began life,
+and a devil of a life she began to lead me. It was all very well at
+first. During the honey-moon there were only a few outbursts, and
+after we came to the Grange she repressed herself for about a
+fortnight; but finally she broke out in the most furious fashion; and
+I began to find that she had a devil of a temper, and in her fits she
+was but a small remove from a mad woman. You see she had been humored
+and indulged and petted and coddled by her old fool of a father, until
+at last she had grown to be the most whimsical, conceited, tetchy,
+suspicious, imperious, domineering, selfish, cruel, hard-hearted, and
+malignant young vixen that ever lived; yet this evil nature dwelt in a
+form as beautiful as ever lived. She was a beautiful demon, and I soon
+found it out.
+
+"It began out of nothing at all. I had been her adoring slave for
+three weeks, until I began to be conscious of the most abominable
+tyranny on her part. I began to resist this, and we were on the verge
+of an outbreak when we arrived at the Grange. The sight of the old
+hall appeased her for a time, but finally the novelty wore off, and
+her evil passions burst out. Naturally enough, my first blind
+adoration passed away, and I began to take my proper position toward
+her; that is to say, I undertook to give her some advice, which she
+very sorely needed. This was the signal for a most furious outbreak.
+What was worse, her outbreak took place before the servants. Of course
+I could do nothing under such circumstances, so I left the room. When
+I saw her again she was sullen and vicious. I attempted a
+reconciliation, and kneeling down I passed my arms caressingly around
+her. 'Look here,' said I, 'my own poor little darling, if I've done
+wrong, I'm sorry, and--'
+
+"Well, what do you think my lady did?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"She _kicked me_! that's all; she kicked me, just as I was apologizing
+to her--just as I was trying to make it up. She kicked me! when I had
+done nothing, and she alone had been to blame. What's more, her boots
+were rather heavy, and that kick made itself felt unmistakably.
+
+"I at once arose, and left her without a word. I did not speak to her
+then for some time. I used to pass her in the house without looking at
+her. This galled her terribly. She made the house too hot for the
+servants, and I used to hear her all day long scolding them in a loud
+shrill voice, till the sound of that voice became horrible to me.
+
+"You must not suppose, however, that I became alienated all at once.
+That was impossible. I loved her very dearly. After she had kicked me
+away my love still lasted. It was a galling thought to a man like me
+that she, a common girl, the daughter of a small tradesman, should
+have kicked me; me, the descendant of Crusaders, by Jove! and of the
+best blood in England; but after a while pride gave way to love, and I
+tried to open the way for a reconciliation once or twice. I attempted
+to address her in her calmer moods, but it was without any success.
+She would not answer me at all. If servants were in the room she would
+at once proceed to give orders to them, just as though I had not
+spoken. She showed a horrible malignancy in trying to dismiss the
+older servants, whom she knew to be favorites of mine. Of course I
+would not let her do it.
+
+"Well, one day I found that this sort of life was intolerable, and I
+made an effort to put an end to it all. My love was not all gone yet,
+and I began to think that I had been to blame. She had always been
+indulged, and I ought to have kept up the system a little longer, and
+let her down more gradually. I thought of her as I first saw her in
+the glory of her youthful beauty on the Calais boat, and softened my
+heart till I began to long for a reconciliation. Really I could not
+see where I had done any thing out of the way. I was awfully fond of
+her at first, and would have remained so if she had let me; but, you
+perceive, her style was not exactly the kind which is best adapted to
+keep a man at a woman's feet. If she had shown the slightest particle
+of tenderness, I would have gladly forgiven her all--yes, even the
+kick, by Jove!
+
+"We had been married about six months or so, and had not spoken for
+over four months; so on the day I refer to I went to her room. She
+received me with a sulky expression, and a hard stare full of insult.
+
+"'My dear,' said I, 'I have come to talk seriously with you.'
+
+"'Kate,' said she, 'show this gentleman out.'
+
+"It was her maid to whom she spoke. The maid colored. I turned to her
+and pointed to the door, and she went out herself. My wife stood
+trembling with rage--a beautiful fury.
+
+"'I have determined,' said I, quietly, 'to make one last effort for
+reconciliation, and I want to be heard. Hear me now, dear, dear wife.
+I want your love again; I can not live this way. Can nothing be done?
+Must I, must you, always live this way? Have I done any wrong? If I
+have, I repent. But come, let us forget our quarrel; let us remember
+the first days of our acquaintance. We loved one another, darling. And
+how beautiful you were! You are still as beautiful; won't you be as
+loving? Don't be hard on a fellow, dear. If I've done any wrong, tell
+me, and I'll make it right. See, we are joined together for life.
+Can't we make life sweeter for one another than it is now? Come, my
+wife, be mine again.'
+
+"I went on in this strain for some time, and my own words actually
+softened me more as I spoke. I felt sorry, too, for my wife, she
+seemed so wretched. Besides, it was a last chance, and I determined to
+humble myself. Any thing was better than perpetual hate and misery. So
+at last I got so affected by my own eloquence that I became quite
+spooney. Her back was turned to me; I could not see her face. I
+thought by her silence that she was affected, and, in a gush of
+tenderness, I put my arm around her.
+
+"In an instant she flung it off, and stepped back, confronting me with
+a face as hard and an eye as malevolent as a demon.
+
+"She reached out her hand toward the bell.
+
+"'What are you going to do?' I asked.
+
+"'Ring for my maid,' said she.
+
+[Illustration: "VERY WELL. HERE IT IS."]
+
+"'Don't,' said I, getting between her and the bell. 'Think; stop, I
+implore you. This is our last chance for a reconciliation.'
+
+"She stepped back with a cruel smile. She had a small penknife in her
+hand. Her eyes glittered venomously.
+
+"'Reconciliation,' she said, with a sneer. '_I_ don't want it; _I_
+don't want _you. You_ came and forced yourself here. Ring for my maid,
+and I will let her show you the door.'
+
+"'You can't mean it?' I said.
+
+"'I do mean it,' she replied. 'Ring the bell,' she added, imperiously.
+
+"I stood looking at her.
+
+"'Leave the room, then,' she said.
+
+"'I must have a satisfactory answer,' said I.
+
+"'Very well,' said she. 'Here it is.'
+
+"And saying this she took the penknife by the blade, between her thumb
+and finger, and slung it at me. It struck me on the arm, and buried
+itself deep in the flesh till it touched the bone. I drew it out, and
+without another word left the room. As I went out I heard her
+summoning the maid in a loud, stern voice.
+
+"Well, after that I went to the Continent, and spent about six months.
+Then I returned.
+
+"On my return I found every thing changed. She had sent off all the
+servants, and brought there a lot of ruffians whom she was unable to
+manage, and who threw every thing into confusion. All the gentry
+talked of her, and avoided the place. My friends greeted me with
+strange, pitying looks. She had cut down most of the woods, and sold
+the timber; she had sent off a number of valuable pictures and sold
+them. This was to get money, for I afterward found out that avarice
+was one of her strongest vices.
+
+"The sight of all this filled me with indignation, and I at once
+turned out the whole lot of servants, leaving only two or three maids.
+I obtained some of the old servants, and reinstated them. All this
+made my wife quite wild. She came up to me once and began to storm,
+but I said something to her which shut her up at once.
+
+"One day I came home and found her on the portico, in her
+riding-habit. She was whipping one of the maids with the butt end of
+her riding-whip. I rushed up and released the poor creature, whose
+cries were really heart-rending, when my wife turned on me, like a
+fury, and struck two blows over my head. One of the scars is on my
+forehead still. See."
+
+And Dacres put aside his hair on the top of his head, just over his
+right eye, and showed a long red mark, which seemed like the scar of a
+dangerous wound.
+
+"It was an ugly blow," he continued. "I at once tore the whip from
+her, and, grasping her hand, led her into the drawing-room. There I
+confronted her, holding her tight. I dare say I was rather a queer
+sight, for the blood was rushing down over my face, and dripping from
+my beard.
+
+"'Look here, now,' I said; 'do you know any reason why I shouldn't lay
+this whip over your shoulders? The English law allows it. Don't you
+feel that you deserve it?'
+
+"She shrank down, pale and trembling. She was a coward, evidently, and
+accessible to physical terror.
+
+"'If I belonged to your class,' said I, 'I would do it. But I am of a
+different order. I am a gentleman. Go. After all, I'm not sorry that
+you gave me this blow.'
+
+"I stalked out of the room, had a doctor, who bound up the wound, and
+then meditated over my situation. I made up my mind at once to a
+separation. Thus far she had done nothing to warrant a divorce, and
+separation was the only thing. I was laid up and feverish for about a
+month, but at the end of that time I had an interview with my wife. I
+proposed a separation, and suggested that she should go home to her
+father. This she refused. She declared herself quite willing to have a
+separation, but insisted on living at Dacres Grange.
+
+"'And what am I to do?' I asked.
+
+"'Whatever you please,' she replied, calmly.
+
+"'Do you really propose,' said I, 'to drive me out of the home of my
+ancestors, and live here yourself? Do you think I will allow this
+place to be under your control after the frightful havoc that you have
+made?'
+
+"'I shall remain here,' said she, firmly.
+
+"I said nothing more. I saw that she was immovable. At the same time I
+could not consent. I could not live with her, and I could not go away
+leaving her there. I could not give up the ancestral home to her, to
+mar and mangle and destroy. Well, I waited for about two months, and
+then--"
+
+"Well?" asked Hawbury, as Dacres hesitated.
+
+"Dacres Grange was burned down," said the other, in a low voice.
+
+"Burned down!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good Lord!"
+
+"It caught fire in the daytime. There were but few servants. No
+fire-engines were near, for the Grange was in a remote place, and so
+the fire soon gained headway and swept over all. My wife was frantic.
+She came to me as I stood looking at the spectacle, and charged me
+with setting fire to it. I smiled at her, but made no reply.
+
+"So you see she was burned out, and that question was settled. It was
+a terrible thing, but desperate diseases require desperate remedies;
+and I felt it more tolerable to have the house in ruins than to have
+her living there while I had to be a wanderer.
+
+"She was now at my mercy. We went to Exeter. She went to her father,
+and I finally succeeded in effecting an arrangement which was
+satisfactory on all sides.
+
+"First of all, the separation should be absolute, and neither of us
+should ever hold communication with the other in any shape or way.
+
+"Secondly, she should take another name, so as to conceal the fact
+that she was my wife, and not do any further dishonor to the name.
+
+"In return for this I was to give her outright twenty thousand pounds
+as her own absolutely, to invest or spend just as she chose. She
+insisted on this, so that she need not be dependent on any annual
+allowance. In consideration of this she forfeited every other claim,
+all dower right in the event of my death, and every thing else. This
+was all drawn up in a formal document, and worded as carefully as
+possible. I don't believe that the document would be of much use in a
+court of law in case she wished to claim any of her rights, but it
+served to satisfy her, and she thought it was legally sound and
+actually inviolable.
+
+"Here we separated. I left England, and have never been there since."
+
+Dacres stopped, and sat silent for a long time.
+
+"Could she have been mad?" asked Hawbury.
+
+"I used to think so, but I believe not. She showed too much sense in
+every thing relating to herself. She sold pictures and timber, and
+kept every penny. She was acute enough in grasping all she could.
+During our last interviews while making these arrangements she was
+perfectly cool and lady-like."
+
+"Have you ever heard about her since?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Is she alive yet?"
+
+"That's the bother."
+
+"What! don't you know?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Haven't you ever tried to find out?"
+
+"Yes. Two years ago I went and had inquiries made at Exeter. Nothing
+could be found out. She and her father had left the place immediately
+after my departure, and nothing was known about them."
+
+"I wonder that you didn't go yourself?"
+
+"What for? I didn't care about seeing her or finding her."
+
+"Do you think she's alive yet?"
+
+"I'm afraid she is. You see she always had excellent health, and
+there's no reason why she should not live to be an octogenarian."
+
+"Yet she may be dead."
+
+"_May_ be! And what sort of comfort is that to me in my present
+position, I should like to know? _May_ be? Is that a sufficient
+foundation for me to build on? No. In a moment of thoughtlessness I
+have allowed myself to forget the horrible position in which I am. But
+now I recall it. I'll crush down my feelings, and be a man again. I'll
+see the child-angel once more; once more feast my soul over her sweet
+and exquisite loveliness; once more get a glance from her tender,
+innocent, and guileless eyes, and then away to South America."
+
+"You said your wife took another name."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What was it? Do you know it?"
+
+"Oh yes; it was _Willoughby_"
+
+"_Willoughby_!" cried Hawbury, with a start; "why, that's the name of
+my Ethel's friend, at Montreal. Could it have been the same?"
+
+"Pooh, man! How is that possible? Willoughby is not an uncommon name.
+It's not more likely that your Willoughby and mine are the same than
+it is that your Ethel is the one I met at Vesuvius. It's only a
+coincidence, and not a very wonderful one, either."
+
+"It seems con-foundedly odd, too," said Hawbury, thoughtfully.
+"Willoughby? Ethel? Good Lord! But pooh! What rot? As though they
+_could_ be the same. Preposterous! By Jove!"
+
+And Hawbury stroked away the preposterous idea through his long,
+pendent whiskers.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE CAUGHT MINNIE IN HER ARMS."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+NEW EMBARRASSMENTS.
+
+
+Mrs. Willoughby had been spending a few days with a friend whom she
+had found in Naples, and on her return was greatly shocked to hear of
+Minnie's adventure on Vesuvius. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel had a story
+to tell which needed no exaggerations and amplifications to agitate
+her strongly. Minnie was not present during the recital; so, after
+hearing it, Mrs. Willoughby went to her room.
+
+Here she caught Minnie in her arms, and kissed her in a very effusive
+manner.
+
+"Oh, Minnie, my poor darling, what is all this about Vesuvius? Is it
+true? It is terrible. And now I will never dare to leave you again.
+How could I think that you would be in any danger with Lady Dalrymple
+and Ethel? As to Ethel, I am astonished. She is always so grave and so
+sad that she is the very last person I would have supposed capable of
+leading you into danger."
+
+"Now, Kitty dearest, that's not true," said Minnie; "she didn't lead
+me at all. I led her. And how did I know there was any danger? I
+remember now that dear, darling Ethel said there was, and I didn't
+believe her. But it's always the way." And Minnie threw her little
+head on one side, and gave a resigned sigh.
+
+"And did you really get into the crater?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, with
+a shudder.
+
+"Oh, I suppose so. They all said so," said Minnie, folding her little
+hands in front of her. "I only remember some smoke, and then jolting
+about dreadfully on the shoulder of some great--big--awful--man."
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"What's the matter, Kitty dearest?"
+
+"Another man!" groaned her sister.
+
+"Well, and how _could_ I help it?" said Minnie. "I'm _sure_ I didn't
+want him. I'm _sure_ I think he might have let me alone. I don't see
+_why_ they all act so. I _wish_ they wouldn't be all the time coming
+and saving my life. If people _will_ go and save my life, I can't help
+it. I think it's very, very horrid of them."
+
+"Oh dear! oh dear!" sighed her sister again.
+
+"Now, Kitty, stop."
+
+"Another man!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Now, Kitty, if you are so unkind, I'll cry. You're _always_ teasing
+me. You _never_ do any thing to comfort me. You _know_ I want comfort,
+and I'm not strong, and people all come and save my life and worry me;
+and I really sometimes think I'd rather not live at all if my life
+_has_ to be saved so often. I'm sure _I_ don't know why they go and do
+it. I'm sure _I_ never heard of any person who is always going and
+getting her life saved, and bothered, and proposed to, and written to,
+and chased, and frightened to death. And I've a _great_ mind to go and
+get married, just to stop it all. And I'd _just_ as soon marry this
+last man as not, and make him drive all the others away from me. He's
+big enough."
+
+Minnie ended all this with a little sob; and her sister, as usual, did
+her best to soothe and quiet her.
+
+"Well, but, darling, how did it all happen?"
+
+"Oh, don't, don't."
+
+"But you might tell _me_"
+
+"Oh, I can't bear to think of it. It's too horrible."
+
+"Poor darling--the crater?"
+
+"No, the great, big man. I didn't see any crater."
+
+"Weren't you in the crater?"
+
+"No, I wasn't."
+
+"They said you were."
+
+"I wasn't. I was on the back of a big, horrid man, who gave great
+jumps down the side of an awful mountain, all sand and things, and
+threw me down at the bottom of it, and--and--disarranged all my hair.
+And I was so frightened that I couldn't even cur--cur--cry."
+
+Here Minnie sobbed afresh, and Mrs. Willoughby petted her again.
+
+"And you shouldn't tease me so; and it's very unkind in you; and you
+know I'm not well; and I can't bear to think about it all; and I know
+you're going to scold me; and you're _always_ scolding me; and you
+_never_ do what I want you to. And then people are _always_ coming and
+saving my life, and I can't bear it any more."
+
+"No-o-o-o-o-o, n-n-no-o-o-o, darling!" said Mrs. Willoughby,
+soothingly, in the tone of a nurse appeasing a fretful child. "You
+sha'n't bear it any more."
+
+"I don't _want_ them to save me any more."
+
+"Well, they sha'n't _do_ it, then," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+affectionately, in a somewhat maudlin tone.
+
+"And the next time I lose my life, I don't want to be saved. I want
+them to let me alone, and I'll come home myself."
+
+"And so you shall, darling; you shall do just as you please. So, now,
+cheer up; don't cry;" and Mrs. Willoughby tried to wipe Minnie's eyes.
+
+"But you're treating me just like a baby, and I don't want to be
+talked to so," said Minnie, fretfully.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby retreated with a look of despair.
+
+"Well, then, dear, I'll do just whatever you want me to do."
+
+"Well, then, I want you to tell me what I am to do."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Why, about this great, big, horrid man."
+
+"I thought you didn't want me to talk about this any more."
+
+"But I _do_ want you to talk about it. You're the only person that
+I've got to talk to about it; nobody else knows how peculiarly I'm
+situated; and I didn't think that you'd give me up because I had fresh
+troubles."
+
+"Give you up, darling!" echoed her sister, in surprise.
+
+"You said you wouldn't talk about it any more."
+
+"But I thought you didn't want me to talk about it."
+
+"But I _do_ want you to."
+
+"Very well, then; and now I want you first of all, darling, to tell me
+how you happened to get into such danger."
+
+"Well, you know," began Minnie, who now seemed calmer--"you know we
+all went out for a drive. And we drove along for miles. Such a drive!
+There were lazaroni, and donkeys, and calèches with as many as twenty
+in each, all pulled by one poor horse, and it's a great shame; and
+pigs--oh, _such_ pigs! Not a particle of hair on them, you know, and
+looking like young elephants, you know; and we saw great droves of
+oxen, and long lines of booths, no end; and people selling macaroni,
+and other people eating it right in the open street, you know--such
+fun!--and fishermen and fish-wives. Oh, how they _were_ screaming, and
+oh, _such_ a hubbub as there was! and we couldn't go on fast, and
+Dowdy seemed really frightened."
+
+"Dowdy?" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, in an interrogative tone.
+
+"Oh, that's a name I've just invented for Lady Dalrymple. It's better
+than Rymple. She said so. It's Dowager shortened. She's a dowager, you
+know. And so, you know, I was on the front seat all the time, when all
+at once I saw a gentleman on horseback. He was a great big man--oh,
+_so_ handsome!--and he was looking at poor little me as though he
+would eat me up. And the moment I saw him I was frightened out of my
+poor little wits, for I knew he was coming to save my life."
+
+"You poor little puss! what put such an idea as that into your
+ridiculous little head?"
+
+"Oh, I knew it--second-sight, you know. We've got Scotch blood, Kitty
+darling, you know. So, you know, I sat, and I saw that he was
+pretending not to see me, and not to be following us; but all the time
+he was taking good care to keep behind us, when he could easily have
+passed us, and all to get a good look at poor me, you know.
+
+"Well," continued Minnie, drawing a long breath, "you know I was
+awfully frightened; and so I sat looking at him, and I whispered all
+the time to myself: 'Oh, please don't!--ple-e-e-e-e-ease don't! Don't
+come and save my life! Ple-e-e-e-e-ease let me alone! I don't want to
+be saved at all.' I said this, you know, all to myself, and the more I
+said it the more he seemed to fix his eyes on me."
+
+"It was very, very rude in him, _I_ think," said Mrs. Willoughby, with
+some indignation.
+
+"No, it wasn't," said Minnie, sharply. "He wasn't rude at all. He
+tried not to look at me. He pretended to be looking at the sea, and at
+the pigs, and all that sort of thing, you know; but all the time, you
+know, I knew very well that he saw me out of the corner of his
+eye--this way."
+
+And Minnie half turned her head, and threw upon her sister, out of the
+corner of her eyes, a glance so languishing that the other laughed.
+
+"He didn't look at you that way. I hope?"
+
+"There was nothing to laugh at in it at all," said Minnie. "He had an
+awfully solemn look--it was so earnest, so sad, and so dreadful, that
+I really began to feel quite frightened. And so would _you_; wouldn't
+_you_, now, Kitty darling; now _wouldn't_ you? Please say so."
+
+"Oh yes!"
+
+"Of course you would. Well, this person followed us. I could see him
+very easily, though he tried to avoid notice; and so at last we got to
+the Hermitage, and he came too. Well, you know, I think I was very
+much excited, and I asked Dowdy to let us go and see the cone; so she
+let us go. She gave no end of warnings, and we promised to do all that
+she said. So Ethel and I went out, and there was the stranger. Well, I
+felt more excited than ever, and a little bit frightened--just a very,
+very, tiny, little bit, you know, and I teased Ethel to go to the
+cone. Well, the stranger kept in sight all the time, you know, and I
+_felt_ his eyes on me--I really _felt_ them. So, you know, when we got
+at the foot of the cone, I was so excited that I was really quite
+beside myself, and I teased and teased, till at last Ethel consented
+to go up. So the men took us up on chairs, and all the time the
+stranger was in sight. He walked up by himself with great, big, long,
+strong strides. So we went on till we got at the top, and then I was
+wilder than ever. I didn't know that there was a particle of danger. I
+was dying with curiosity to look down, and see where the smoke came
+from. The stranger was standing there too, and that's what made me so
+excited. I wanted to show him--I don't know what. I think my idea was
+to show him that I could take care of myself. So then I teased and
+teased, and Ethel begged and prayed, and she cried, and I laughed; and
+there stood the stranger, seeing it all, until at last I started off,
+and ran up to the top, you know."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby shuddered, and took her sister's hand.
+
+"There was no end of smoke, you know, and it was awfully unpleasant,
+and I got to the top I don't know how, when suddenly I fainted."
+
+Minnie paused for a moment, and looked at her sister with a rueful
+face.
+
+"Well, now, dear, darling, the very--next--thing--that I remember is
+this, and it's horrid: I felt awful jolts, and found myself in the
+arms of a great, big, horrid man, who was running down the side of the
+mountain with dreadfully long jumps, and I felt as though he was some
+horrid ogre carrying poor me away to his den to eat me up. But I
+didn't say one word. I wasn't much frightened. I felt provoked. I knew
+it was that horrid man. And then I wondered what you'd say; and I
+thought, oh, how you _would_ scold! And then I knew that this horrid
+man would chase me away from Italy; and then I would have to go to
+Turkey, and have my life saved by a Mohammedan. And that was horrid.
+
+"Well, at last he stopped and laid me down. He was very gentle, though
+he was so big. I kept my eyes shut, and lay as still as a mouse,
+hoping that Ethel would come. But Ethel didn't. She was coming down
+with the chair, you know, and her men couldn't run like mine. And oh,
+Kitty darling, you have no _idea_ what I suffered. This horrid man was
+rubbing and pounding at my hands, and sighing and groaning. I stole a
+little bit of a look at him--just a little bit of a bit--and saw tears
+in his eyes, and a wild look of fear in his face. Then I knew that he
+was going to propose to me on the spot, and kept my eyes shut tighter
+than ever.
+
+"Well, at last he hurt my hands so that I thought I'd try to make him
+stop. So I spoke as low as I could, and asked if I was home, and he
+said yes."
+
+Minnie paused.
+
+"Well?" asked her sister.
+
+"Well," said Minnie, in a doleful tone, "I then asked, 'Is that you,
+papa dear?'"
+
+Minnie stopped again.
+
+"Well?" asked Mrs. Willoughby once more.
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"Well, he said--he said, 'Yes, darling'--and--"
+
+"And what?"
+
+"And he kissed me," said Minnie, in a doleful voice.
+
+"Kissed you!" exclaimed her sister, with flashing eyes.
+
+"Ye-yes," stammered Minnie, with a sob; "and I think it's a shame; and
+none of them ever did so before; and I don't want you ever to go away
+again, Kitty darling."
+
+"The miserable wretch!" cried Mrs. Willoughby, indignantly.
+
+"No, he isn't--he isn't that," said Minnie. "He isn't a miserable
+wretch at all."
+
+"How could any one be so base who pretends to the name of gentleman!"
+cried Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"He wasn't base--and it's very wicked of you, Kitty. He only
+pretended, you know."
+
+"Pretended!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pretended what?"
+
+"Why, that he was my--my father, you know."
+
+"Does Ethel know this?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, after a curious look at
+Minnie.
+
+"No, of course not, nor Dowdy either; and you mustn't go and make any
+disturbance."
+
+"Disturbance? no; but if I ever see him, I'll let him know what I
+think of him," said Mrs. Willoughby, severely.
+
+"But he saved my life, and so you know you can't be _very_ harsh with
+him. Please don't--ple-e-e-ease now, Kitty darling."
+
+"Oh, you little goose, what whimsical idea have you got now?"
+
+"Please don't, ple-e-e-ease don't," repeated Minnie.
+
+"Oh, never mind; go on now, darling, and tell me about the rest of
+it."
+
+"Well, there isn't any more. I lay still, you know, and at last Ethel
+came; and then we went back to Dowdy, and then we came home, you
+know."
+
+"Well, I hope you've lost him."
+
+"Lost him? Oh no; I never do. They always _will_ come. Besides, this
+one will, I know."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he said so."
+
+"Said so? when?"
+
+"Yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Yes; we met him."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Dowdy and I. We were out driving. We stopped and spoke to him. He was
+dreadfully earnest and awfully embarrassed; and I knew he was going to
+propose; so I kept whispering to myself all the time, 'Oh, please
+don't--please don't;' but I know he will; and he'll be here soon too."
+
+"He sha'n't. I won't let him. I'll never give him the chance."
+
+"I think you needn't be so cruel."
+
+"Cruel!"
+
+"Yes; to the poor man."
+
+"Why, you don't want another man, I hope?"
+
+"N-no; but then I don't want to hurt his feelings. It was awfully good
+of him, you know, and _aw_fully plucky."
+
+[Illustration:
+"IF I EVER SEE HIM, I'LL LET HIM KNOW WHAT I THINK OF HIM."]
+
+"Well, I should think that you would prefer avoiding him, in your
+peculiar situation."
+
+"Yes, but he may feel hurt."
+
+"Oh, he may see you once or twice with me."
+
+"But he may want to see me alone, and what _can_ I do?"
+
+"Really now, Minnie, you must remember that you are in a serious
+position. There is that wretched Captain Kirby."
+
+"I know," said Minnie, with a sigh.
+
+"And that dreadful American. By-the-way, darling, you have never told
+me his name. It isn't of any consequence, but I should like to know
+the American's name."
+
+"It's--Rufus K. Gunn."
+
+"Rufus K. Gunn; what a funny name! and what in the world is 'K' for?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. He says it is the fashion in his country to have some
+letter of the alphabet between one's names, and he chose 'K,' because
+it was so awfully uncommon. Isn't it funny, Kitty darling?"
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed her sister; "and then there is that pertinacious
+Count Girasole. Think what trouble we had in getting quietly rid of
+him. I'm afraid all the time that he will not stay at Florence, as he
+said, for he seems to have no fixed abode. First he was going to Rome,
+and then Venice, and at last he committed himself to a statement that
+he had to remain at Florence, and so enabled us to get rid of him. But
+I know he'll come upon us again somewhere, and then we'll have all the
+trouble over again. Oh dear! Well, Minnie darling, do you know the
+name of this last one?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"It's a funny name," said Minnie; "a very funny name."
+
+"Tell it to me."
+
+"It's Scone Dacres; and isn't that a funny name?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby started at the mention of that name. Then she turned
+away her head, and did not say a word for a long time.
+
+"Kitty!"
+
+No answer.
+
+"Kitty darling, what's the matter?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby turned her head once more. Her face was quite calm,
+and her voice had its usual tone, as she asked,
+
+"Say that name again."
+
+"Scone Dacres," said Minnie.
+
+"Scone Dacres!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby; "and what sort of a man is
+he?"
+
+"Big--very big--awfully big!" said Minnie. "Great, big head and broad
+shoulders. Great, big arms, that carried me as if I were a feather;
+big beard too; and it tickled me so when he--he pretended that he was
+my father; and very sad. And, oh! I know I should be so _aw_fully fond
+of him. And, oh! Kitty darling, what do you think?"
+
+"What, dearest?"
+
+"Why, I'm--I'm afraid--I'm really beginning to--to--like him--just a
+little tiny bit, you know."
+
+"Scone Dacres!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, who didn't seem to have
+heard this last effusion. "Scone Dacres! Well, darling, don't trouble
+yourself; he sha'n't trouble you."
+
+"But I _want_ him to," said Minnie.
+
+"Oh, nonsense, child!"
+
+[Illustration: "HALLO, OLD MAN, WHAT'S UP NOW?"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A FEARFUL DISCOVERY.
+
+
+A few days after this Hawbury was in his room, when Dacres entered.
+
+"Hallo, old man, what's up now? How goes the war?" said Hawbury. "But
+what the mischief's the matter? You look cut up. Your brow is sad;
+your eyes beneath flash like a falchion from its sheath. What's
+happened? You look half snubbed, and half desperate."
+
+Dacres said not a word, but flung himself into a chair with a look
+that suited Hawbury's description of him quite accurately. His brows
+lowered into a heavy frown, his lips were compressed, and his breath
+came quick and hard through his inflated nostrils. He sat thus for
+some time without taking any notice whatever of his friend, and at
+length lighted a cigar, which he smoked, as he often did when excited,
+in great voluminous puffs. Hawbury said nothing, but after one or two
+quick glances at his friend, rang a bell and ordered some "Bass."
+
+"Here, old fellow," said he, drawing the attention of Dacres to the
+refreshing draught. "Take some--'Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe,
+and forget thy lost Lenore.'"
+
+Dacres at this gave a heavy sigh that sounded like a groan, and
+swallowed several tumblers in quick succession.
+
+"Hawbury!" said he at length, in a half-stifled voice.
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"I've had a blow to-day full on the breast that fairly staggered me."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Fact. I've just come from a mad ride along the shore. I've been mad,
+I think, for two or three hours. Of all the monstrous, abominable,
+infernal, and unheard-of catastrophes this is the worst."
+
+He stopped, and puffed away desperately at his cigar.
+
+"Don't keep a fellow in suspense this way," said Hawbury at last.
+"What's up? Out with it, man."
+
+"Well, you know, yesterday I called there."
+
+Hawbury nodded.
+
+"She was not at home."
+
+"So you said."
+
+"You know she really wasn't, for I told you that I met their carriage.
+The whole party were in it, and on the front seat beside Minnie there
+was another lady. This is the one that I had not seen before. She
+makes the fourth in that party. She and Minnie had their backs turned
+as they came up. The other ladies bowed as they passed, and as I held
+off my hat I half turned to catch Minnie's eyes, when I caught sight
+of the face of the lady. It startled me so much that I was
+thunder-struck, and stood there with my hat off after they had passed
+me for some time."
+
+"You said nothing about that, old chap. Who the deuce could she have
+been?"
+
+"No, I said nothing about it. As I cantered off I began to think that
+it was only a fancy of mine, and finally I was sure of it, and laughed
+it off. For, you must know, the lady's face looked astonishingly like
+a certain face that I don't particularly care to see--certainly not in
+such close connection with Minnie. But, you see, I thought it might
+have been my fancy, so that I finally shook off the feeling, and said
+nothing to you about it."
+
+Dacres paused here, rubbed his hand violently over his hair at the
+place where the scar was, and then, frowning heavily, resumed:
+
+"Well, this afternoon I called again. They were at home. On entering I
+found three ladies there. One was Lady Dalrymple, and the others were
+Minnie and her friend Ethel--either her friend or her sister. I think
+she's her sister. Well, I sat for about five minutes, and was just
+beginning to feel the full sense of my happiness, when the door opened
+and another lady entered. Hawbury"--and Dacres's tones deepened into
+an awful solemnity--"Hawbury, it was the lady that I saw in the
+carriage yesterday. One look at her was enough. I was assured then
+that my impressions yesterday were not dreams, but the damnable and
+abhorrent truth!"
+
+"What impressions--you haven't told me yet, you know?"
+
+[Illustration: "I STOOD TRANSFIXED."]
+
+"Wait a minute. I rose as she entered, and confronted her. She looked
+at me calmly, and then stood as though expecting to be introduced.
+There was no emotion visible whatever. She was prepared for it: I was
+not: and so she was as cool as when I saw her last, and, what is more,
+just as young and beautiful."
+
+"The devil!" cried Hawbury.
+
+Dacres poured out another glass of ale and drank it. His hand trembled
+slightly as he put down the glass, and he sat for some time in thought
+before he went on.
+
+"Well, Lady Dalrymple introduced us. It was Mrs. Willoughby!"
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "I saw you were coming to that."
+
+"Well, you know, the whole thing was so sudden, so unexpected, and so
+perfectly overwhelming, that I stood transfixed. I said nothing. I
+believe I bowed, and then somehow or other, I really don't know how, I
+got away, and, mounting my horse, rode off like a madman. Then I came
+home, and here you see me."
+
+There was a silence now for some time.
+
+"Are you sure that it was your wife?"
+
+"Of course I am. How could I be mistaken?"
+
+"Are you sure the name was Willoughby?"
+
+"Perfectly sure."
+
+"And that is the name your wife took?"
+
+"Yes; I told you so before, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes. But think now. Mightn't there be some mistake?"
+
+"Pooh! how could there be any mistake?"
+
+"Didn't you see any change in her?"
+
+"No, only that she looked much more quiet than she used to. Not so
+active, you know. In her best days she was always excitable, and a
+little demonstrative; but now she seems to have sobered down, and is
+as quiet and well-bred as any of the others."
+
+"Was there not any change in her at all?"
+
+"Not so much as I would have supposed; certainly not so much as there
+is in me. But then I've been knocking about all over the world, and
+she's been living a life of peace and calm, with the sweet
+consciousness of having triumphed over a hated husband, and possessing
+a handsome competency. Now she mingles in the best society. She
+associates with lords and ladies. She enjoys life in England, while I
+am an exile. No doubt she passes for a fine young widow. No doubt,
+too, she has lots of admirers. They aspire to her hand. They write
+poetry to her. They make love to her. Confound her!"
+
+Dacres's voice grew more and more agitated and excited as he spoke,
+and at length his tirade against his wife ended in something that was
+almost a roar.
+
+Hawbury said nothing, but listened, with his face full of sympathy. At
+last his pent-up feeling found expression in his favorite exclamation,
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Wouldn't I be justified in wringing her neck?" asked Dacres, after a
+pause. "And what's worse," he continued, without waiting for an answer
+to his question--"what's worse, her presence here in this unexpected
+way has given me, _me_, mind you, a sense of guilt, while she is, of
+course, immaculate. _I_, mind you--_I_, the injured husband, with the
+scar on my head from a wound made by _her_ hand, and all the ghosts of
+my ancestors howling curses over me at night for my desolated and
+ruined home--_I_ am to be conscience-stricken in her presence, as if I
+were a felon, while _she_, the really guilty one--the blight and
+bitter destruction of my life--_she_ is to appear before me now as
+injured, and must make her appearance here, standing by the side of
+that sweet child-angel, and warning me away. Confound it all, man! Do
+you mean to say that such a thing is to be borne?"
+
+Dacres was now quite frantic; so Hawbury, with a sigh of perplexity,
+lighted a fresh cigar, and thus took refuge from the helplessness of
+his position. It was clearly a state of things in which advice was
+utterly useless, and consolation impossible. What could he advise, or
+what consolation could he offer? The child-angel was now out of his
+friend's reach, and the worst fears of the lover were more than
+realized.
+
+"I told you I was afraid of this," continued Dacres. "I had a
+suspicion that she was alive, and I firmly believe she'll outlive me
+forty years; but I must say I never expected to see her in this way,
+under such circumstances. And then to find her so infernally
+beautiful! Confound her! she don't look over twenty-five. How the
+mischief does she manage it? Oh, she's a deep one! But perhaps she's
+changed. She seems so calm, and came into the room so gently, and
+looked at me so steadily. Not a tremor, not a shake, as I live. Calm,
+Sir; cool as steel, and hard too. She looked away, and then looked
+back. They were searching glances, too, as though they read me through
+and through. Well, there was no occasion for that. She ought to know
+Scone Dacres well enough, I swear. Cool! And there stood I, with the
+blood flashing to my head, and throbbing fire underneath the scar of
+her wound--hers--her own property, for she made it! That was the woman
+that kicked me, that struck at me, that caused the destruction of my
+ancestral house, that drove me to exile, and that now drives me back
+from my love. But, by Heaven! it'll take more than her to do it; and
+I'll show her again, as I showed her once before, that Scone Dacres is
+her master. And, by Jove! she'll find that it'll take more than
+herself to keep me away from Minnie Fay."
+
+"See here, old boy," said Hawbury, "you may as well throw up the
+sponge."
+
+"I won't," said Dacres, gruffly.
+
+"You see it isn't your wife that you have to consider, but the girl;
+and do you think the girl or her friends would have a married man
+paying his attentions in that quarter? Would you have the face to do
+it under your own wife's eye? By Jove!"
+
+The undeniable truth of this assertion was felt by Dacres even in his
+rage. But the very fact that it was unanswerable, and that he was
+helpless, only served to deepen and intensify his rage. Yet he said
+nothing; it was only in his face and manner that his rage was
+manifested. He appeared almost to suffocate under the rush of fierce,
+contending passions; big distended veins swelled out in his forehead,
+which was also drawn far down in a gloomy frown; his breath came thick
+and fast, and his hands were clenched tight together. Hawbury watched
+him in silence as before, feeling all the time the impossibility of
+saying any thing that could be of any use whatever.
+
+"Well, old fellow," said Dacres at last, giving a long breath, in
+which he seemed to throw off some of his excitement, "you're right, of
+course, and I am helpless. There's no chance for me. Paying
+attentions is out of the question, and the only thing for me to do is
+to give up the whole thing. But that isn't to be done at once. It's
+been long since I've seen any one for whom I felt any tenderness, and
+this little thing, I know, is fond of me. I can't quit her at once. I
+must stay on for a time, at least, and have occasional glimpses at
+her. It gives me a fresh sense of almost heavenly sweetness to look at
+her fair young face. Besides, I feel that I am far more to her than
+any other man. No other man has stood to her in the relation in which
+I have stood. Recollect how I saved her from death. That is no light
+thing. She must feel toward me as she has never felt to any other. She
+is not one who can forget how I snatched her from a fearful death, and
+brought her back to life. Every time she looks at me she seems to
+convey all that to me in her glance."
+
+"Oh, well, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "just think. You
+can't do any thing."
+
+"But I don't want to do any thing."
+
+"It never can end in any thing, you know."
+
+"But I don't want it to end in any thing."
+
+"You'll only bother her by entangling her affections."
+
+"But I don't want to entangle her affections."
+
+"Then what the mischief _do_ you want to do?"
+
+"Why, very little. I'll start off soon for the uttermost ends of the
+earth, but I wish to stay a little longer and see her sweet face. It's
+not much, is it? It won't compromise her, will it? She need not run
+any risk, need she? And I'm a man of honor, am I not? You don't
+suppose me to be capable of any baseness, do you?"
+
+"My dear fellow, how absurd! Of course not. Only I was afraid by
+giving way to this you might drift on into a worse state of mind.
+She's all safe, I fancy, surrounded as she is by so many guardians. It
+is you that I'm anxious about."
+
+"Don't be alarmed, old chap, about me. I feel calmer already. I can
+face my situation firmly, and prepare for the worst. While I have been
+sitting here I have thought out the future. I will stay here four or
+five weeks. I will only seek solace for myself by riding about where I
+may meet her. I do not intend to go to the house at all. My demon of a
+wife may have the whole house to herself. I won't even give her the
+pleasure of supposing that she has thwarted me. She shall never even
+suspect the state of my heart. That would be bliss indeed to one like
+her, for then she would find herself able to put me on the rack. No,
+my boy; I've thought it all over. Scone Dacres is himself again. No
+more nonsense now. Do you understand now what I mean?"
+
+"Yes," said Hawbury, slowly, and in his worst drawl; "but ah, really,
+don't you think it's all nonsense?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, this ducking and diving about to get a glimpse of her face."
+
+"I don't intend to duck and dive about. I merely intend to ride like
+any other gentleman. What put that into your head, man?"
+
+"Well, I don't know; I gathered it from the way you expressed
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I don't intend any thing of the kind. I simply wish to have
+occasional looks at her--to get a bow and a smile of recognition when
+I meet her, and have a few additional recollections to turn over in my
+thoughts after I have left her forever. Perhaps this seems odd."
+
+"Oh no, it doesn't. I quite understand it. A passing smile or a
+parting sigh is sometimes more precious than any other memory. I know
+all about it, you know--looks, glances, smiles, sighs, and all that
+sort of thing, you know."
+
+"Well, now, old chap, there's one thing I want you to do for me."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"It isn't much, old fellow. It isn't much. I simply wish you to visit
+there."
+
+"_Me_?--visit _there_? What! me--and visit? Why, my dear fellow, don't
+you know how I hate such bother?"
+
+"I know all about that; but, old boy, it's only for a few weeks I ask
+it, and for my sake, as a particular favor. I put it in that light."
+
+"Oh, well, really, dear boy, if you put it in that light, you know, of
+course, that I'll do any thing, even if it comes to letting myself be
+bored to death."
+
+"Just a visit a day or so."
+
+"A visit a day!" Hawbury looked aghast.
+
+"It isn't much to ask, you know," continued Dacres. "You see my reason
+is this: I can't go there myself, as you see, but I hunger to hear
+about her. I should like to hear how she looks, and what she says, and
+whether she thinks of me."
+
+"Oh, come now! look here, my dear fellow, you're putting it a little
+too strong. You don't expect me to go there and talk to her about you,
+you know. Why, man alive, that's quite out of my way. I'm not much of
+a talker at any time; and besides, you know, there's something
+distasteful in acting as--as--By Jove! I don't know what to call it."
+
+"My dear boy, you don't understand me. Do you think I'm a sneak? Do
+you suppose I'd ask you to act as a go-between? Nonsense! I merely ask
+you to go as a cursory visitor. I don't want you to breathe my name,
+or even think of me while you are there."
+
+"But suppose I make myself too agreeable to the young lady. By Jove!
+she might think I was paying her attentions, you know."
+
+"Oh no, no! believe me, you don't know her. She's too earnest; she has
+too much soul to shift and change. Oh no! I feel that she is mine, and
+that the image of my own miserable self is indelibly impressed upon
+her heart. Oh no! you don't know her. If you had heard her thrilling
+expressions of gratitude, if you had seen the beseeching and pleading
+looks which she gave me, you would know that she is one of those
+natures who love once, and once only."
+
+"Oh, by Jove, now! Come! If that's the 'state of the case, why, I'll
+go."
+
+"Thanks, old boy."
+
+"As a simple visitor."
+
+"Yes--that's all."
+
+"To talk about the weather, and that rot."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And no more."
+
+"No."
+
+"Not a word about you."
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"No leading questions, and that sort of thing."
+
+"Nothing of the kind."
+
+"No hints, no watching, but just as if I went there of my own accord."
+
+"That's exactly the thing."
+
+"Very well; and now, pray, what good is all this going to do to you,
+my boy?"
+
+"Well, just this; I can talk to you about her every evening, and you
+can tell me how she looks, and what she says, and all that sort of
+thing, you know."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"And you'll cheer my heart, old fellow."
+
+"Heavens and earth! old boy, you don't seem to think that this is
+going to be no end of a bore."
+
+"I know it, old man; but then, you know, I'm desperate just now."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+And Hawbury, uttering this exclamation, relapsed into silence, and
+wondered over his friend's infatuation.
+
+On the following day when Dacres came in he found that Hawbury had
+kept his word.
+
+"Great bore, old fellow," said he; "but I did it. The old lady is an
+old acquaintance, you know. I'm going there to-morrow again. Didn't
+see any thing to-day of the child-angel. But it's no end of a bore,
+you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+FALSE AND FORGETFUL.
+
+
+The day when Lord Hawbury called on Lady Dalrymple was a very eventful
+one in his life, and had it not been for a slight peculiarity of his,
+the immediate result of that visit would have been of a highly
+important character. This slight peculiarity consisted in the fact
+that he was short-sighted, and, therefore, on a very critical occasion
+turned away from that which would have been his greatest joy, although
+it was full before his gaze.
+
+It happened in this wise:
+
+On the day when Hawbury called, Ethel happened to be sitting by the
+window, and saw him as he rode up. Now the last time that she had seen
+him he had a very different appearance--all his hair being burned off,
+from head and cheeks and chin; and the whiskers which he had when she
+first met him had been of a different cut from the present appendages.
+In spite of this she recognized him almost in a moment; and her heart
+beat fast, and her color came and went, and her hands clutched the
+window ledge convulsively.
+
+[Illustration: "'IT'S HE!' SHE MURMURED."]
+
+"It's _he_!" she murmured.
+
+Of course there was only one idea in her mind, and that was that he
+had heard of her presence in Naples, and had come to call on her.
+
+She sat there without motion, with her head eagerly bent forward, and
+her eyes fixed upon him. He looked up carelessly as he came along, and
+with his chin in the air, in a fashion peculiar to him, which,
+by-the-way, gave a quite unintentional superciliousness to his
+expression. For an instant his eyes rested upon her, then they moved
+away, without the slightest recognition, and wandered elsewhere.
+
+Ethel's heart seemed turned to stone. He had seen her. He had not
+noticed her. He had fixed his eyes on her and then looked away.
+Bitter, indeed, was all this to her. To think that after so long a
+period of waiting--after such hope and watching as hers had been--that
+this should be the end. She turned away from the window, with a
+choking sensation in her throat. No one was in the room. She was alone
+with her thoughts and her tears.
+
+Suddenly her mood changed. A thought came to her which dispelled her
+gloom. The glance that he had given was too hasty; perhaps he really
+had not fairly looked at her. No doubt he had come for her, and she
+would shortly be summoned down.
+
+And now this prospect brought new hope. Light returned to her eyes,
+and joy to her heart. Yes, she would be summoned. She must prepare
+herself to encounter his eager gaze. Quickly she stepped to the
+mirror, hastily she arranged those little details in which consists
+the charm of a lady's dress, and severely she scrutinized the face and
+figure reflected there. The scrutiny was a satisfactory one. Face and
+figure were perfect; nor was there in the world any thing more
+graceful and more lovely than the image there, though the one who
+looked upon it was far too self-distrustful to entertain any such idea
+as that.
+
+Then she seated herself and waited. The time moved slowly, indeed, as
+she waited there. After a few minutes she found it impossible to sit
+any longer. She walked to the door, held it open, and listened. She
+heard his voice below quite plainly. They had two suits of rooms in
+the house--the bedrooms up stairs and reception-rooms below. Here Lord
+Hawbury was, now, within hearing of Ethel. Well she knew that voice.
+She listened and frowned. The tone was too flippant. He talked like a
+man without a care--like a butterfly of society--and that was a
+class which she scorned. Here he was, keeping her waiting. Here he
+was, keeping up a hateful clatter of small-talk, while her heart was
+aching with suspense.
+
+Ethel stood there listening. Minute succeeded to minute. There was no
+request for her. How strong was the contrast between the cool
+indifference of the man below, and the feverish impatience of that
+listener above! A wild impulse came to her to go down, under the
+pretense of looking for something; then another to go down and out for
+a walk, so that he might see her. But in either case pride held her
+back. How could she? Had he not already seen her? Must he not know
+perfectly well that she was there? No; if he did not call for her she
+could not go. She could not make advances.
+
+Minute succeeded to minute, and Ethel stood burning with impatience,
+racked with suspense, a prey to the bitterest feelings. Still no
+message. Why did he delay? Her heart ached now worse than ever, the
+choking feeling in her throat returned, and her eyes grew moist. She
+steadied herself by holding to the door. Her fingers grew white at the
+tightness of her grasp; eyes and ears were strained in their intent
+watchfulness over the room below.
+
+Of course the caller below was in a perfect state of ignorance about
+all this. He had not the remotest idea of that one who now stood so
+near. He came as a martyr. He came to make a call. It was a thing he
+detested. It bored him. To a man like him the one thing to be avoided
+on earth was a bore. To be bored was to his mind the uttermost depth
+of misfortune. This he had voluntarily accepted. He was being bored,
+and bored to death.
+
+Certainly no man ever accepted a calamity more gracefully than
+Hawbury. He was charming, affable, easy, chatty. Of course he was
+known to Lady Dalrymple. The Dowager could make herself as agreeable
+as any lady living, except young and beautiful ones. The conversation,
+therefore, was easy and flowing. Hawbury excelled in this.
+
+Now there are several variations in the great art of expression, and
+each of these is a minor art by itself. Among these may be enumerated:
+
+First, of course, the art of novel-writing.
+
+Second, the art of writing editorials.
+
+Third, the art of writing paragraphs.
+
+After these come all the arts of oratory, letter-writing,
+essay-writing, and all that sort of thing, among which there is one to
+which I wish particularly to call attention, and this is:
+
+The art of small-talk.
+
+Now this art Hawbury had to an extraordinary degree of perfection. He
+knew how to beat out the faintest shred of an idea into an illimitable
+surface of small-talk. He never took refuge in the weather. He left
+that to bunglers and beginners. His resources were of a different
+character, and were so skillfully managed that he never failed to
+leave a very agreeable impression. Small-talk! Why, I've been in
+situations sometimes where I would have given the power of writing
+like Dickens (if I had it) for perfection in this last art.
+
+But this careless, easy, limpid, smooth, natural, pleasant, and
+agreeable flow of chat was nothing but gall and wormwood to the
+listener above. She ought to be there. Why was she so slighted? Could
+it be possible that he would go away without seeing her?
+
+She was soon to know.
+
+She heard him rise. She heard him saunter to the door.
+
+"Thanks, yes. Ha, ha, you're too kind--really--yes--very happy, you
+know. To-morrow, is it? Good-morning."
+
+And with these words he went out.
+
+With pale face and staring eyes Ethel darted back to the window. He
+did not see her. His back was turned. He mounted his horse and gayly
+cantered away. For full five minutes Ethel stood, crouched in the
+shadow of the window, staring after him, with her dark eyes burning
+and glowing in the intensity of their gaze. Then she turned away with
+a bewildered look. Then she locked the door. Then she flung herself
+upon the sofa, buried her head in her hands, and burst into a
+convulsive passion of tears. Miserable, indeed, were the thoughts that
+came now to that poor stricken girl as she lay there prostrate. She
+had waited long, and hoped fondly, and all her waiting and all her
+hope had been for this. It was for this that she had been praying--for
+this that she had so fondly cherished his memory. He had come at last,
+and he had gone; but for her he had certainly shown nothing save an
+indifference as profound as it was inexplicable.
+
+Ethel's excuse for not appearing at the dinner-table was a severe
+headache. Her friends insisted on seeing her and ministering to her
+sufferings. Among other things, they tried to cheer her by telling her
+of Hawbury. Lady Dalrymple was full of him. She told all about his
+family, his income, his habits, and his mode of life. She mentioned,
+with much satisfaction, that he had made inquiries after Minnie, and
+that she had promised to introduce him to her the next time he called.
+Upon which he had laughingly insisted on calling the next day. All of
+which led Lady Dalrymple to conclude that he had seen Minnie
+somewhere, and had fallen in love with her.
+
+This was the pleasing strain of conversation into which the ladies
+were led off by Lady Dalrymple. When I say the ladies, I mean Lady
+Dalrymple and Minnie. Mrs. Willoughby said nothing, except once or
+twice when she endeavored to give a turn to the conversation, in which
+she was signally unsuccessful. Lady Dalrymple and Minnie engaged in an
+animated argument over the interesting subject of Hawbury's
+intentions, Minnie taking her stand on the ground of his indifference,
+the other maintaining the position that he was in love. Minnie
+declared that she had never seen him. Lady Dalrymple asserted her
+belief that he had seen her. The latter also asserted that Hawbury
+would no doubt be a constant visitor, and gave Minnie very sound
+advice as to the best mode of treating him.
+
+[Illustration: "THEN SHE FLUNG HERSELF UPON THE SOFA."]
+
+On the following day Hawbury called, and was introduced to Minnie. He
+chatted with her in his usual style, and Lady Dalrymple was more than
+ever confirmed in her first belief. He suggested a ride, and the
+suggestion was taken up.
+
+If any thing had been needed to complete Ethel's despair it was this
+second visit and the project of a ride. Mrs. Willoughby was introduced
+to him; but he took little notice of her, treating her with a kind of
+reserve that was a little unusual with him. The reason of this was his
+strong sympathy with his friend, and his detestation of Mrs.
+Willoughby's former history. Mrs. Willoughby, however, had to ride
+with them when they went out, and thus she was thrown a little more
+into Hawbury's way.
+
+Ethel never made her appearance. The headaches which she avouched were
+not pretended. They were real, and accompanied with heartaches that
+were far more painful. Hawbury never saw her, nor did he ever hear her
+mentioned. In general he himself kept the conversation in motion; and
+as he never asked questions, they, of course, had no opportunity to
+answer. On the other hand, there was no occasion to volunteer any
+remarks about the number or the character of their party. When he
+talked it was usually with Lady Dalrymple and Minnie: and with these
+the conversation turned always upon glittering generalities, and the
+airy nothings of pleasant gossip. All this, then, will very easily
+account for the fact that Hawbury, though visiting there constantly,
+never once saw Ethel, never heard her name mentioned, and had not the
+faintest idea that she was so near. She, on the other hand, feeling
+now sure that he was utterly false and completely forgetful, proudly
+and calmly held aloof, and kept out of his way with the most jealous
+care, until at last she staid indoors altogether, for fear, if she
+went out, that she might meet him somewhere. For such a meeting she
+did not feel sufficiently strong.
+
+Often she thought of quitting Naples and returning to England. Yet,
+after all, she found a strange comfort in being there. She was near
+him. She heard his voice every day, and saw his face. That was
+something. And it was better than absence.
+
+Minnie used always to come to her and pour forth long accounts of Lord
+Hawbury--how he looked, what he said, what he did, and what he
+proposed to do. Certainly there was not the faintest approach to
+love-making, or even sentiment, in Hawbury's attitude toward Minnie.
+His words were of the world of small-talk--a world where sentiment and
+love-making have but little place. Still there was the evident fact of
+his attentions, which were too frequent to be overlooked.
+
+Hawbury rapidly became the most prominent subject of Minnie's
+conversation. She used to prattle away for hours about him. She
+alluded admiringly to his long whiskers. She thought them "lovely."
+She said that he was "awfully nice." She told Mrs. Willoughby that "he
+was nicer than any of them; and then, Kitty darling," she added, "it's
+so awfully good of him not to be coming and saving my life, and
+carrying me on his back down a mountain, like an ogre, and then
+pretending that he's my father, you know.
+
+"For you know, Kitty pet, I've always longed so awfully to see some
+really nice person, you know, who wouldn't go and save my life and
+bother me. Now he doesn't seem a bit like proposing. I do _hope_ he
+won't. Don't you, Kitty dearest? It's so _much_ nicer not to propose.
+It's so horrid when they go and propose. And then, you know, I've had
+so much of that sort of thing. So, Kitty, I think he's really the
+nicest person that I ever saw, and I really think I'm beginning to
+like him."
+
+Far different from these were the conversations which Mrs. Willoughby
+had with Ethel. She was perfectly familiar with Ethel's story. It had
+been confided to her long ago. She alone knew why it was that Ethel
+had walked untouched through crowds of admirers. The terrible story of
+her rescue was memorable to her for other reasons; and the one who had
+taken the prominent part in that rescue could not be without interest
+for her.
+
+"There is no use, Kitty--no use in talking about it any more," said
+Ethel one day, after Mrs. Willoughby had been urging her to show
+herself. "I can not. I will not. He has forgotten me utterly."
+
+"Perhaps he has no idea that you are here. He has never seen you."
+
+"Has he not been in Naples as long as we have? He must have seen me in
+the streets. He saw Minnie."
+
+"Do you think it likely that he would come to this house and slight
+you? If he had forgotten you he would not come here."
+
+"Oh yes, he would. He comes to see Minnie. He knows I am here, of
+course. He doesn't care one atom whether I make my appearance or not.
+He doesn't even give me a thought. It's so long since _that time_ that
+he has forgotten even my existence. He has been all over the world
+since then, and has had a hundred adventures. I have been living
+quietly, cherishing the remembrance of that one thing."
+
+"Ethel, is it not worth trying? Go down and try him."
+
+"I can not bear it. I can not look at him. I lose all self-command
+when he is near. I should make a fool of myself. He would look at me
+with a smile of pity. Could I endure that? No, Kitty; my weakness must
+never be known to him."
+
+"Oh, Ethel, how I wish you could try it!"
+
+"Kitty, just think how utterly I am forgotten. Mark this now. He knows
+I was at _your_ house. He must remember your name. He wrote to me
+there, and I answered him from there. He sees you now, and your name
+must be associated with mine in his memory of me, if he has any. Tell
+me now, Kitty, has he ever mentioned me? has he ever asked you about
+me? has he ever made the remotest allusion to me?"
+
+Ethel spoke rapidly and impetuously, and as she spoke she raised
+herself from the sofa where she was reclining, and turned her large,
+earnest eyes full upon her friend with anxious and eager watchfulness.
+Mrs. Willoughby looked back at her with a face full of sadness, and
+mournfully shook her head.
+
+"You see," said Ethel, as she sank down again--"you see how true my
+impression is."
+
+"I must say," said Mrs. Willoughby, "that I thought of this before. I
+fully expected that he would make some inquiry after you. I was so
+confident in the noble character of the man, both from your story and
+the description of others, that I could not believe you were right.
+But you are right, my poor Ethel. I wish I could comfort you, but I
+can not. Indeed, my dear, not only has he not questioned me about you,
+but he evidently avoids me. It is not that he is engrossed with
+Minnie, for he is not so; but he certainly has some reason of his own
+for avoiding me. Whenever he speaks to me there is an evident effort
+on his part, and though perfectly courteous, his manner leaves a
+certain disagreeable impression. Yes, he certainly has some reason for
+avoiding me."
+
+"The reason is plain enough," murmured Ethel. "He wishes to prevent
+you from speaking about a painful subject, or at least a distasteful
+one. He keeps you off at a distance by an excess of formality. He will
+give you no opportunity whatever to introduce any mention of me. And
+now let me also ask you this--does he ever take any notice of any
+allusion that may be made to me?"
+
+"I really don't remember hearing any allusion to you."
+
+"Oh, that's scarcely possible! You and Minnie must sometimes have
+alluded to 'Ethel.'"
+
+"Well, now that you put it in that light, I do remember hearing Minnie
+allude to you on several occasions. Once she wondered why 'Ethel' did
+not ride. Again she remarked how 'Ethel' would enjoy a particular
+view."
+
+"And he heard it?"
+
+"Oh, of course."
+
+"Then there is not a shadow of a doubt left. He knows I am here. He
+has forgotten me so totally, and is so completely indifferent, that he
+comes here and pays attention to another who is in the very same house
+with me. It is hard. Oh, Kitty, is it not? Is it not bitter? How could
+I have thought this of _him_?"
+
+A high-hearted girl was Ethel, and a proud one; but at this final
+confirmation of her worst fears there burst from her a sharp cry, and
+she buried her face in her hands, and moaned and wept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+GIRASOLE AGAIN.
+
+
+One day Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie were out driving. Hawbury was
+riding by the carriage on the side next Minnie, when suddenly their
+attention was arrested by a gentleman on horseback who was approaching
+them at an easy pace, and staring hard at them. Minnie's hand suddenly
+grasped her sister's arm very tightly, while her color came and went
+rapidly.
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Oh, what _shall_ I do?" said Minnie, in a hasty whisper. "Can't we
+pretend not to see him?"
+
+"Nonsense, you little goose," was the reply. "How can you think of
+such rudeness?"
+
+By this time the gentleman had reached them, and Mrs. Willoughby
+stopped the carriage, and spoke to him in a tone of gracious suavity,
+in which there was a sufficient recognition of his claims upon her
+attention, mingled with a slight hauteur that was intended to act as a
+check upon his Italian demonstrativeness.
+
+For it was no other than the Count Girasole, and his eyes glowed with
+excitement and delight, and his hat was off and as far away from his
+head as possible, and a thousand emotions contended together for
+expression upon his swarthy and handsome countenance. As soon as he
+could speak he poured forth a torrent of exclamations with amazing
+volubility, in the midst of which his keen black eyes scrutinized very
+closely the faces of the ladies, and finally turned an interrogative
+glance upon Hawbury, who sat on his horse regarding the new-comer with
+a certain mild surprise not unmingled with superciliousness. Hawbury's
+chin was in the air, his eyes rested languidly upon the stranger, and
+his left hand toyed with his left whisker. He really meant no offense
+whatever. He knew absolutely nothing about the stranger, and had not
+the slightest intention of giving offense. It was simply a way he had.
+It was merely the normal attitude of the English swell before he is
+introduced. As it was, that first glance which Girasole threw at the
+English lord inspired him with the bitterest hate, which was destined
+to produce important results afterward.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was too good-natured and too wise to slight the Count
+in any way. After introducing the two gentlemen she spoke a few more
+civil words, and then bowed him away. But Girasole did not at all take
+the hint. On the contrary, as the carriage started, he turned his
+horse and rode along with it on the side next Mrs. Willoughby. Hawbury
+elevated his eyebrows, and stared for an instant, and then went on
+talking with Minnie. And now Minnie showed much more animation than
+usual. She was much agitated and excited by this sudden appearance of
+one whom she hoped to have got rid of, and talked rapidly, and laughed
+nervously, and was so terrified at the idea that Girasole was near
+that she was afraid to look at him, but directed all her attention to
+Hawbury. It was a slight, and Girasole showed that he felt it; but
+Minnie could not help it. After a time Girasole mastered his feelings,
+and began an animated conversation with Mrs. Willoughby in very broken
+English. Girasole's excitement at Minnie's slight made him somewhat
+incoherent, his idioms were Italian rather than English, and his
+pronunciation was very bad; he also had a fashion of using an Italian
+word when he did not know the right English one, and so the
+consequence was that Mrs. Willoughby understood not much more than
+one-quarter of his remarks.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby did not altogether enjoy this state of things, and so
+she determined to put an end to it by shortening her drive. She
+therefore watched for an opportunity to do this so as not to make it
+seem too marked, and finally reached a place which was suitable. Here
+the carriage was turned, when, just as it was half-way round, they
+noticed a horseman approaching. It was Scone Dacres, who had been
+following them all the time, and who had not expected that the
+carriage would turn. He was therefore taken completely by surprise,
+and was close to them before he could collect his thoughts so as to do
+any thing. To evade them was impossible, and so he rode on. As he
+approached, the ladies saw his face. It was a face that one would
+remember afterward. There was on it a profound sadness and dejection,
+while at the same time the prevailing expression was one of sternness.
+The ladies both bowed. Scone Dacres raised his hat, and disclosed his
+broad, massive brow. He did not look at Minnie. His gaze was fixed on
+Mrs. Willoughby. Her veil was down, and he seemed trying to read her
+face behind it. As he passed he threw a quick, vivid glance at
+Girasole. It was not a pleasant glance by any means, and was full of
+quick, fierce, and insolent scrutiny--a "Who-the-devil-are-you?"
+glance. It was for but an instant, however, and then he glanced at
+Mrs. Willoughby again, and then he had passed.
+
+The ladies soon reached their home, and at once retired to Mrs.
+Willoughby's room. There Minnie flung herself upon the sofa, and Mrs.
+Willoughby sat down, with a perplexed face.
+
+"What in the world _are_ we to do?" said she.
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know," said Minnie. "I _knew_ it was going to be
+so. I said that he would find me again."
+
+"He is _so_ annoying."
+
+"Yes, but, Kitty dear, we can't be rude to him, you know, for he saved
+my life. But it's horrid, and I really begin to feel quite desperate."
+
+"I certainly will not let him see you. I have made up my mind to
+that."
+
+"And oh! how he _will_ be coming and calling, and tease, tease,
+teasing. Oh dear! I do wonder what Lord Hawbury thought. He looked
+_so_ amazed. And then--oh, Kitty dear, it was so awfully funny!--did
+you notice that other man?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby nodded her head.
+
+"Did you notice how awfully black he looked? He wouldn't look at me at
+all. _I_ know why."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.
+
+"He's awfully jealous. Oh, _I_ know it. I saw it in his face. He was
+as black as a thunder-cloud. Oh dear! And it's all about me. Oh, Kitty
+darling, what _shall_ I do? There will be something dreadful, I know.
+And how shocking to have it about me. And then the newspapers. They'll
+all have it. And the reporters. Oh dear! Kitty, why _don't_ you say
+something?"
+
+"Why, Minnie dearest, I really don't know what to say."
+
+"But, darling, you must say something. And then that Scone Dacres. I'm
+more afraid of him than any body. Oh, I know he's going to _kill_ some
+one. He is so big. Oh, if _you_ had only been on his back, Kitty
+darling, and had him run down a steep mountain-side, you'd be as
+awfully afraid of him as I am. Oh, how I _wish_ Lord Hawbury would
+drive them off, or somebody do something to save me."
+
+"Would you rather that Lord Hawbury would stay, or would you like him
+to go too?"
+
+"Oh dear! I don't care. If he would only go quietly and nicely, I
+should like to have him go too, and never, never see a man again
+except dear papa. And I think it's a shame. And I don't see why I
+should be so persecuted. And I'm tired of staying here. And I don't
+want to stay here any more. And, Kitty darling, why shouldn't we all
+go to Rome?"
+
+"To Rome?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you prefer Rome?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, yes--for several reasons. In the first place, I must go
+somewhere, and I'd rather go there than any where else. Then, you
+know, that dear, delightful holy-week will soon be here, and I'm dying
+to be in Rome."
+
+"I think it would be better for all of us," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+thoughtfully--"for all of us, if we were in Rome."
+
+"Of course it would, Kitty sweetest, and especially me. Now if I am in
+Rome, I can pop into a convent whenever I choose."
+
+"A convent!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, in surprise.
+
+"Oh yes--it's going to come to that. They're all so horrid, you know.
+Besides, it's getting worse. I got a letter yesterday from Captain
+Kirby, written to me in England. He didn't know I was here. He has
+just arrived at London, and was leaving for our place on what he
+called the wings of the wind. I expect him here at almost any time.
+Isn't it dreadful, Kitty dearest, to have so many? As fast as one goes
+another comes, and then they all come together; and do you know,
+darling, it really makes one feel quite dizzy. I'm sure _I_ don't know
+what to do. And that's why I'm thinking of a convent, you know."
+
+"But you're not a Catholic."
+
+"Oh yes, I am, you know. Papa's an Anglo-Catholic, and I don't see the
+difference. Besides, they're all the time going over to Rome; and why
+shouldn't I? I'll be a novice--that is, you know, I'll only go for a
+time, and not take the vows. The more I think of it, the more I see
+that it's the only thing there is for me to do."
+
+"Well, Minnie, I really think so too, and not only for you, but for
+all of us. There's Ethel, too; poor dear girl, her health is very
+miserable, you know. I think a change would do her good."
+
+"Of course it would; I've been talking to her about it. But she won't
+hear of leaving Naples. I _wish_ she wouldn't be so awfully sad."
+
+"Oh yes; it will certainly be the best thing for dear Ethel, and for
+you and me and all of us. Then we must be in Rome in holy-week. I
+wouldn't miss that for any thing."
+
+"And then, too, you know, Kitty darling, there's another thing," said
+Minnie, very confidentially, "and it's very important. In Rome, you
+know, all the gentlemen are clergymen--only, you know, the clergymen
+of the Roman Church can't marry; and so, you know, of course, they can
+never propose, no matter if they were to save one's life over and over
+again. And oh! what a relief that would be to find one's self among
+those dear, darling, delightful priests, and no chance of having one's
+life saved and having an instant proposal following! It would be _so_
+charming."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby smiled.
+
+"Well, Minnie dearest," said she, "I really think that we had better
+decide to go to Rome, and I don't see any difficulty in the way."
+
+"The only difficulty that I can see," said Minnie, "is that I
+shouldn't like to hurt their feelings, you know."
+
+"Their feelings!" repeated her sister, in a doleful voice.
+
+"Yes; but then, you see, some one's feelings _must_ be hurt
+eventually, so that lessens one's responsibility, you know; doesn't
+it, Kitty darling?"
+
+While saying this Minnie had risen and gone to the window, with the
+intention of taking her seat by it. No sooner had she reached the
+place, however, than she started back, with a low exclamation, and,
+standing on one side, looked cautiously forth.
+
+"Come here," she said, in a whisper.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby went over, and Minnie directed her attention to some
+one outside. It was a gentleman on horseback, who was passing at a
+slow pace. His head was bent on his breast. Suddenly, as he passed, he
+raised his head and threw over the house a quick, searching glance.
+They could see without being seen. They marked the profound sadness
+that was over his face, and saw the deep disappointment with which his
+head fell.
+
+"Scone Dacres!" said Minnie, as he passed on. "How _aw_fully sad he
+is!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.
+
+"But, after all, I don't believe it's _me_."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he didn't look at me a bit when he passed to-day. He looked
+at you, though."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Yes, and his face had an _aw_fully hungry look. I know what makes him
+sad."
+
+"What?"
+
+"He's in love with you."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby stared at Minnie for a moment. Then a short laugh
+burst from her.
+
+"Child!" she exclaimed, "you have no idea of any thing in the world
+but falling in love. You will find out some day that there are other
+feelings than that."
+
+"But, Kitty dear," said Minnie, "didn't you notice something very
+peculiar about him?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I noticed it. I had a good look at him. I saw that he fixed his eyes
+on you with--oh! _such_ a queer look. And he was awfully sad too. He
+looked as if he would like to seize you and lift you on his horse and
+carry you off, just like young Lochinvar."
+
+"Me!" said Mrs. Willoughby, with a strange intonation.
+
+"Yes, you--oh yes; really now."
+
+"Oh, you little goose, you always think of people rushing after one
+and carrying one off."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I've had reason to. So many people have always been
+running after me, and snatching me up as if I were a parcel, and
+carrying me every where in all sorts of places. And I think it's too
+bad, and I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"About this Scone Dacres. Don't you really think there's something
+very peculiarly sad, and very delightfully interesting and pathetic,
+and all that sort of thing, in his poor dear old face?"
+
+"I think Scone Dacres has suffered a great deal," said Mrs.
+Willoughby, in a thoughtful tone. "But come now. Let us go to Ethel.
+She's lonely."
+
+Soon after they joined the other ladies, and talked over the project
+of going to Rome. Lady Dalrymple offered no objection; indeed, so far
+as she had any choice, she preferred it. She was quite willing at all
+times to do whatever the rest proposed, and also was not without some
+curiosity as to the proceedings during holy-week. Ethel offered no
+objections either. She had fallen into a state of profound melancholy,
+from which nothing now could rouse her, and so she listened listlessly
+to the discussion about the subject. Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie had
+the most to say on this point, and offered the chief reasons for
+going; and thus it was finally decided to take their departure, and to
+start as soon as possible.
+
+Meanwhile Girasole had his own thoughts and experiences. He had
+already, some time before, been conscious that his attentions were not
+wanted, but it was only on the part of the other ladies that he
+noticed any repugnance to himself. On Minnie's part he had not seen
+any. In spite of their graciousness and their desire not to hurt his
+feelings, they had not been able to avoid showing that, while they
+felt grateful for his heroism in the rescue of Minnie, they could not
+think of giving her to him. They had manoeuvred well enough to get rid
+of him, but Girasole had also manoeuvred on his part to find them
+again. He had fallen off from them at first when he saw that they were
+determined on effecting this; but after allowing a sufficient time to
+elapse, he had no difficulty in tracking them, and finding them at
+Naples, as we have seen.
+
+But here he made one or two discoveries.
+
+One was that Minnie already had an accepted lover in the person of
+Lord Hawbury. The lofty superciliousness of the British nobleman
+seemed to Girasole to be the natural result of his position, and it
+seemed the attitude of the successful lover toward the rejected
+suitor.
+
+The other discovery was that Minnie herself was more pleased with the
+attentions of the English lord than with his own. This was now
+evident, and he could not help perceiving that his difficulties were
+far more formidable from the presence of such a rival.
+
+But Girasole was not easily daunted. In the first place, he had
+unbounded confidence in his own fascinations; in the second place, he
+believed that he had a claim on Minnie that no other could equal, in
+the fact that he had saved her life; in the third place, apart from
+the question of love, he believed her to be a prize of no common
+value, whose English gold would be welcome indeed to his Italian need
+and greed; while, finally, the bitter hate with which Lord Hawbury had
+inspired him gave an additional zest to the pursuit, and made him
+follow after Minnie with fresh ardor.
+
+Once or twice after this he called upon them. On the first occasion
+only Lady Dalrymple was visible. On the second, none of the ladies
+were at home. He was baffled, but not discouraged. Returning from his
+call, he met Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby. Hawbury was with them, riding
+beside Minnie. The ladies bowed, and Girasole, as before, coolly
+turned his horse and rode by the carriage, talking with Mrs.
+Willoughby, and trying to throw at Minnie what he intended to be
+impassioned glances. But Minnie would not look at him. Of course she
+was frightened as usual, and grew excited, and, as before, talked with
+unusual animation to Hawbury. Thus she overdid it altogether, and more
+than ever confirmed Girasole in the opinion that she and Hawbury were
+affianced.
+
+Two days after this Girasole called again.
+
+A bitter disappointment was in store for him.
+
+They were not there--they had gone.
+
+Eagerly he inquired where.
+
+"To Rome," was the reply.
+
+[Illustration: "'TO ROME!' HE MUTTERED, BETWEEN HIS SET TEETH."]
+
+"To Rome!" he muttered, between his set teeth; and mounting his horse
+hurriedly, he rode away.
+
+He was not one to be daunted. He had set a certain task before
+himself, and could not easily be turned aside. He thought bitterly of
+the ingratitude with which he had been treated. He brought before his
+mind the "stony British stare," the supercilious smile, and the
+impertinent and insulting expression of Hawbury's face as he sat on
+his saddle, with his chin up, stroking his whiskers, and surveyed him
+for the first time. All these things combined to stimulate the hate as
+well as the love of Girasole. He felt that he himself was not one who
+could be lightly dismissed, and determined that they should learn
+this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+VAIN REMONSTRANCES.
+
+
+Hawbury had immolated himself for as much as half a dozen times to
+gratify Dacres. He had sacrificed himself over and over upon the altar
+of friendship, and had allowed himself to be bored to death because
+Dacres so wished it. The whole number of his calls was in reality only
+about five or six; but that number, to one of his taste and
+temperament, seemed positively enormous, and represented an immense
+amount of human suffering.
+
+One day, upon reaching his quarters, after one of these calls, he
+found Dacres there, making himself, as usual, very much at home.
+
+"Well, my dear fellow," said Hawbury, cheerfully, "how waves the flag
+now? Are you hauling it down, or are you standing to your guns? Toss
+over the cigars, and give an account of yourself."
+
+"Do you know any thing about law, Hawbury?" was Dacres's answer.
+
+"Law?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No, not much. But what in the world makes you ask such a question as
+that? Law! No--not I."
+
+"Well, there's a point that I should like to ask somebody about."
+
+"Why not get a lawyer?"
+
+"An Italian lawyer's no use."
+
+"Well, English lawyers are to be found. I dare say there are twenty
+within five minutes' distance of this place."
+
+"Oh, I don't want to bother. I only wanted to ask some one's opinion
+in a general way."
+
+"Well, what's the point?"
+
+"Why this," said Dacres, after a little hesitation. "You've heard of
+outlawry?"
+
+"Should think I had--Robin Hood and his merry men, Lincoln green,
+Sherwood Forest, and all that sort of thing, you know. But what the
+mischief sets you thinking about Robin Hood?"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that rot. I mean real outlawry--when a fellow's in
+debt, you know."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well; if he goes out of the country, and stays away a certain number
+of years, the debt's outlawed, you know."
+
+"The deuce it is! Is it, though? _I've_ been in debt, but I always
+managed to pull through without getting so far. But that's convenient
+for some fellows too."
+
+"I'm a little muddy about it, but I've heard something to this effect.
+I think the time is seven years. If the debt is not acknowledged
+during the interval, it's outlawed. And now, 'pon my life, my dear
+fellow, I really don't know but that I've jumbled up some fragments of
+English law with American. I felt that I was muddy, and so I thought
+I'd ask you."
+
+"Don't know any more about it than about the antediluvians."
+
+"It's an important point, and I should like to have it looked up."
+
+"Well, get a lawyer here; half London is on the Continent. But still,
+my dear fellow, I don't see what you're driving at. You're not in
+debt?"
+
+"No--this isn't debt; but it struck me that this might possibly apply
+to other kinds of contracts."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How--such as what, for instance?"
+
+"Well, you see, I thought, you know, that all contracts might be
+included under it; and so I thought that if seven years or so annulled
+all contracts, it might have some effect, you know, upon--the--the--the
+marriage contract, you know."
+
+At this Hawbury started up, stared at Dacres, gave a loud whistle, and
+then exclaimed,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"I may be mistaken," said Dacres, modestly.
+
+"Mistaken? Why, old chap, you're mad. Marriage? Good Lord! don't you
+know nothing can abrogate that? Of course, in case of crime, one can
+get a divorce; but there is no other way. Seven years? By Jove! A good
+idea that. Why, man, if that were so, the kingdom would be
+depopulated. Husbands running off from wives, and wives from husbands,
+to pass the required seven years abroad. By Jove! You see, too,
+there's another thing, my boy. Marriage is a sacrament, and you've not
+only got to untie the civil knot, but the clerical one, my boy. No,
+no; there's no help for it. You gave your word, old chap, 'till death
+do us part,' and you're in for it."
+
+At this Dacres said nothing; it appeared to dispel his project from
+his mind. He relapsed into a sullen sort of gloom, and remained so for
+some time. At last he spoke:
+
+"Hawbury!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Have you found out who that fellow is?"
+
+"What fellow?"
+
+"Why that yellow Italian that goes prowling around after my wife."
+
+"Oh yes; I heard something or other today."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"Well, it seems that he saved her life, or something of that sort."
+
+"Saved her life!" Dacres started. "How? where? Cool, too!"
+
+"Oh, on the Alps somewhere."
+
+"On the Alps! saved her life! Come now, I like that," said Dacres,
+with bitter intonation. "Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you she
+contrived all that. Oh, she's deep! But how did it happen? Did you
+hear?"
+
+"Well, I didn't hear any thing very definite. It was something about a
+precipice. It was Lady Dalrymple that told me. It seems she was
+knocked over a precipice by an avalanche."
+
+"Was what? Knocked where? Over a precipice? By a what--an avalanche?
+Good Lord! I don't believe it. I swear I don't. She invented it all.
+It's some of her infernal humbug. She slid off over the snow, so as to
+get him to go after her. Oh, don't I know her and her ways!"
+
+"Well, come now, old man, you shouldn't be too hard on her. You never
+said that flirtation was one of her faults."
+
+"Well, neither it was; but, as she is a demon, she's capable of any
+thing; and now she has sobered down, and all her vices have taken this
+turn. Oh yes. I know her. No more storms now--no rage, no fury--all
+quiet and sly. Flirtation! Ha, ha! That's the word. And my wife! And
+going about the country, tumbling over precipices, with devilish
+handsome Italians going down to save her life! Ha, ha, ha! I like
+that!"
+
+"See here, old boy, I swear you're too suspicious. Come now. You're
+going too far. If she chooses, she may trump up the same charge
+against you and the child-angel at Vesuvius. Come now, old boy, be
+just. You can afford to. Your wife may be a fiend in human form; and
+if you insist upon it, I've nothing to say. But this last notion of
+yours is nothing but the most wretched absurdity. It's worse. It's
+lunacy."
+
+"Well, well," said Dacres, in a milder tone; "perhaps she didn't
+contrive it. But then, you know," he added, "it's just as good for
+her. She gets the Italian. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+His laugh was forced, feverish, and unnatural. Hawbury didn't like it,
+and tried to change the subject.
+
+"Oh, by-the-way," said he, "you needn't have any further trouble about
+any of them. You don't seem inclined to take any definite action, so
+the action will be taken for you."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that they are all going to leave Naples."
+
+"To leave Naples!"
+
+Dacres uttered this in a voice of grief and surprise which astonished
+Hawbury and touched him.
+
+"Yes," he said. "You know they've been here long enough. They want to
+see Rome. Holy-week, you know. No end of excitement. Illumination of
+St. Peter's, and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+Dacres relapsed into sombre silence. For more than half an hour he did
+not say a word. Hawbury respected his mood, and watched him with
+something approaching to anxiety.
+
+"Hawbury," said he at last.
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"I'm going to Rome."
+
+"You--to Rome!"
+
+"Yes, me, to Rome."
+
+"Oh, nonsense! See here, old boy. You'd really better not, you know.
+Break it up. You can't do any thing."
+
+"I'm going to Rome," repeated Dacres, stolidly. "I've made up my
+mind."
+
+"But, really," remonstrated Hawbury. "See here now, my dear fellow;
+look here, you know. By Jove! you don't consider, really."
+
+"Oh yes, I do. I know every thing; I consider every thing."
+
+"But what good will it do?"
+
+"It won't do any good; but it may prevent some evil."
+
+"Nothing but evil can ever come of it."
+
+"Oh, no evil need necessarily come of it."
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury, who began to be excited. "Really, my
+dear fellow, you don't think. You see you can't gain any thing. She's
+surrounded by friends, you know. She never can be yours, you know.
+There's a great gulf between you, and all that sort of thing, you
+know."
+
+"Yes," repeated Dacres, catching his last words--"yes, a great gulf,
+as deep as the bottomless abyss, never to be traversed, where she
+stands on one side, and I on the other, and between us hate, deep and
+pitiless hate, undying, eternal!"
+
+"Then, by Jove! my dear fellow, what's the use of trying to fight
+against it? You can't do any thing. If this were Indiana, now, or even
+New York, I wouldn't say any thing, you know; but you know an Indiana
+divorce wouldn't do _you_ any good. Her friends wouldn't take you on
+those terms--and she wouldn't. Not she, by Jove!"
+
+"I _must_ go. I must follow her," continued Dacres. "The sight of her
+has roused a devil within me that I thought was laid. I'm a changed
+man, Hawbury."
+
+"I should think so, by Jove!"
+
+"A changed man," continued Dacres. "Oh, Heavens, what power there is
+in a face! What terrific influence it has over a man! Here am I; a few
+days ago I was a free man; now I am a slave. But, by Heaven! I'll
+follow her to the world's end. She shall not shake me off. She thinks
+to be happy without me. She shall not. I will silently follow as an
+avenging fate. I can not have her, and no one else shall. The same
+cursed fate that severs her from me shall keep her away from others.
+If I am lonely and an exile, she shall not be as happy as she expects.
+I shall not be the only one to suffer."
+
+"See here, by Jove!" cried Hawbury. "Really. You're going too far, my
+dear boy, you know. You are, really. Come now. This is just like a
+Surrey theatre, you know. You're really raving. Why, my poor old boy,
+you _must_ give her up. You can't do any thing. You daren't call on
+her. You're tied hand and foot. You may worship her here, and rave
+about your child-angel till you're black in the face, but you never
+can see her; and as to all this about stopping her from marrying any
+other person, that's all rot and bosh. What do you suppose any other
+man would care for your nonsensical ravings? Lonely and an exile! Why,
+man, she'll be married and done for in three months."
+
+"You don't understand me," said Dacres, dryly.
+
+"I'm glad that I don't; but it's no wonder, old man, for really you
+were quite incoherent."
+
+"And so they're going to Rome," said Dacres. "Well, they'll find that
+I'm not to be shaken off so easily."
+
+"Come now, old man, you _must_ give up that."
+
+"And I suppose," continued Dacres, with a sneer, "our handsome,
+dark-eyed little Italian cavalier is going with us. Ha, ha, ha! He's
+at the house all the time, no doubt."
+
+"Well, yes; he was there once."
+
+"Ah! of course--quite devoted."
+
+"Oh yes; but don't be afraid. It was not to the child-angel. She
+appears to avoid him. That's really quite evident. It's an apparent
+aversion on her part."
+
+Dacres drew a long breath.
+
+"Oh," said he; "and so I suppose it's not _her_ that _he_ goes after.
+I did not suppose that it was. Oh no. There's another one--more
+piquant, you know--ha, ha!--a devoted lover--saved her life--quite
+devoted--and she sits and accepts his attentions. Yet she's seen me,
+and knows that I'm watching her. Don't she know _me_? Does she want
+any further proof of what I am ready to do? The ruins of Dacres Grange
+should serve her for life. She tempts fate when she carries on her
+gallantries and her Italian cicisbeism under the eyes of Scone Dacres.
+It'll end bad. By Heaven, it will!"
+
+Scone Dacres breathed hard, and, raising his head, turned upon Hawbury
+a pair of eyes whose glow seemed of fire.
+
+"Bad!" he repeated, crashing his fist on the table. "Bad, by Heaven!"
+
+Hawbury looked at him earnestly.
+
+"My dear boy," said he, "you're getting too excited. Be cool. Really,
+I don't believe you know what you're saying. I don't understand what
+you mean. Haven't the faintest idea what you're driving at. You're
+making ferocious threats against some people, but, for my life, I
+don't know who they are. Hadn't you better try to speak so that a
+fellow can understand the general drift, at least, of what you say?"
+
+"Well, then, you understand this much--I'm going to Rome."
+
+"I'm sorry for it, old boy."
+
+"And see here, Hawbury, I want you to come with me."
+
+"Me? What for?"
+
+"Well, I want you. I may have need of you."
+
+As Dacres said this his face assumed so dark and gloomy an expression
+that Hawbury began to think that there was something serious in all
+this menace.
+
+"'Pon my life," said he, "my dear boy, I really don't think you're in
+a fit state to be allowed to go by yourself. You look quite desperate.
+I wish I could make you give up this infernal Roman notion."
+
+"I'm going to Rome!" repeated Dacres, resolutely.
+
+Hawbury looked at him.
+
+"You'll come, Hawbury, won't you?"
+
+"Why, confound it all, of course. I'm afraid you'll do something rash,
+old man, and you'll have to have me to stand between you and harm."
+
+"Oh, don't be concerned about me," said Dacres. "I only want to watch
+her, and see what her little game is. I want to look at her in the
+midst of her happiness. She's most infernally beautiful, too; hasn't
+added a year or a day to her face; more lovely than ever; more
+beautiful than she was even when I first saw her. And there's a
+softness about her that she never had before. Where the deuce did she
+get that? Good idea of hers, too, to cultivate the soft style. And
+there's sadness in her face, too. Can it be real? By Heavens! if I
+thought it could be real I'd--but pooh! what insanity! It's her art.
+There never was such cunning. She cultivates the soft, sad style so as
+to attract lovers--lovers--who adore her--who save her life--who
+become her obedient slaves! Oh yes; and I--what am I? Why they get
+together and laugh at me; they giggle; they snicker--"
+
+"Confound it all, man, what are you going on at that rate for?"
+interrupted Hawbury. "Are you taking leave of your senses altogether?
+By Jove, old man, you'd better give up this Roman journey."
+
+"No, I'll keep at it."
+
+"What for? Confound it! I don't see your object."
+
+"My object? Why, I mean to follow her. I can't give her up. I won't
+give her up. I'll follow her. She shall see me every where. I'll
+follow her. She sha'n't go any where without seeing me on her track.
+She shall see that she is mine. She shall know that she's got a
+master. She shall find herself cut off from that butterfly life which
+she hopes to enter. I'll be her fate, and she shall know it."
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "What the deuce is all this about? Are you
+mad, or what? Look here, old boy, you're utterly beyond me, you know.
+What the mischief do you mean? Whom are you going to follow? Whose
+fate are you going to be? Whose track are you talking about?"
+
+"Who?" cried Dacres. "Why, my wife!"
+
+As he said this he struck his fist violently on the table.
+
+"The deuce!" exclaimed Hawbury, staring at him; after which he added,
+thoughtfully, "by Jove!"
+
+Not much more was said. Dacres sat in silence for a long time,
+breathing hard, and puffing violently at his cigar. Hawbury said
+nothing to interrupt his meditation. After an hour or so Dacres
+tramped off in silence, and Hawbury was left to meditate over the
+situation.
+
+And this was the result of his meditations.
+
+He saw that Dacres was greatly excited, and had changed completely
+from his old self. His state of mind seemed actually dangerous. There
+was an evil gleam in his eyes that looked like madness. What made it
+more perplexing still was the new revulsion of feeling that now was
+manifest. It was not so much love for the child-angel as bitter and
+venomous hate for his wife. The gentler feeling had given place to the
+sterner one. It might have been possible to attempt an argument
+against the indulgence of the former; but what could words avail
+against revenge? And now there was rising in the soul of Dacres an
+evident thirst for vengeance, the result of those injuries which had
+been carried in his heart and brooded over for years. The sight of his
+wife had evidently kindled all this. If she had not come across his
+path he might have forgotten all; but she had come, and all was
+revived. She had come, too, in a shape which was adapted in the
+highest degree to stimulate all the passion of Dacres's soul--young,
+beautiful, fascinating, elegant, refined, rich, honored, courted, and
+happy. Upon such a being as this the homeless wanderer, the outcast,
+looked, and his soul seemed turned to fire as he gazed. Was it any
+wonder?
+
+All this Hawbury thought, and with full sympathy for his injured
+friend. He saw also that Dacres could not be trusted by himself. Some
+catastrophe would be sure to occur. He determined, therefore, to
+accompany his friend, so as to do what he could to avert the calamity
+which he dreaded.
+
+And this was the reason why he went with Dacres to Rome.
+
+As for Dacres, he seemed to be animated by but one motive, which he
+expressed over and over again:
+
+"She stood between me and my child-angel, and so will I stand between
+her and her Italian!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE ZOUAVE OFFICER.
+
+
+Whatever trouble Ethel had experienced at Naples from her conviction
+that Hawbury was false was increased and, if possible, intensified by
+the discovery that he had followed them to Rome. His true motives for
+this could not possibly be known to her, so she, of course, concluded
+that it was his infatuation for Minnie, and his determination to win
+her for himself. She felt confident that he knew that she belonged to
+the party, but was so utterly indifferent to her that he completely
+ignored her, and had not sufficient interest in her to ask the
+commonest question about her. All this, of course, only confirmed her
+previous opinion, and it also deepened her melancholy. One additional
+effect it also had, and that was to deprive her of any pleasure that
+might be had from drives about Rome. She felt a morbid dread of
+meeting him somewhere; she did not yet feel able to encounter him; she
+could not trust herself; she felt sure that if she saw him she would
+lose all self-control, and make an exhibition of humiliating weakness.
+The dread of this was sufficient to detain her at home; and so she
+remained indoors, a prisoner, refusing her liberty, brooding over her
+troubles, and striving to acquire that indifference to him which she
+believed he had toward her. Now going about was the very thing which
+would have alleviated her woes, but this was the very thing that she
+was unwilling to do; nor could any persuasion shake her resolve.
+
+One day Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie were out driving, and in passing
+through a street they encountered a crowd in front of one of the
+churches. Another crowd was inside, and, as something was going on,
+they stopped the carriage and sat looking. The Swiss Guards were there
+in their picturesque costume, and the cardinals in their scarlet robes
+and scarlet coaches, and military officers of high rank, and carriages
+of the Roman aristocracy filled with beautiful ladies. Something of
+importance was going on, the nature of which they did not know. A
+little knot of Englishmen stood near; and from their remarks the
+ladies gathered that this was the Church of the Jesuits, and that the
+Pope in person was going to perform high-mass, and afterward hold a
+reception.
+
+Soon there arose a murmur and a bustle among the crowd, which was
+succeeded by a deep stillness. The Swiss Guards drove the throng to
+either side, and a passage-way was thus formed through the people to
+the church. A carriage drove up in great state. In this was seated an
+elderly gentleman in rich pontifical robes. He had a mild and gentle
+face, upon which was a sweet and winning smile. No face is more
+attractive than that of Pio Nono.
+
+"Oh, look!" cried Minnie; "that must be the Pope. Oh, what a darling!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby, however, was looking elsewhere.
+
+"Minnie," said she.
+
+"What, Kitty dear?"
+
+"Are you acquainted with any Zouave officer?"
+
+"Zouave officer! Why, no; what put such a thing as that into your
+head, you old silly?"
+
+"Because there's a Zouave officer over there in the crowd who has been
+staring fixedly at us ever since we came up, and trying to make
+signals, and it's my opinion he's signaling to you. Look at him; he's
+over there on the top of the steps."
+
+"I won't look," said Minnie, pettishly. "How do I know who he is? I
+declare I'm afraid to look at any body. He'll be coming and saving my
+life."
+
+"I'm sure this man is an old acquaintance."
+
+"Nonsense! how can he be?"
+
+"It may be Captain Kirby."
+
+"How silly! Why, Captain Kirby is in the Rifles."
+
+"Perhaps he is dressed this way just for amusement. Look at him."
+
+"Now, Kitty, I think you're unkind. You _know_ I don't want to look at
+him; I don't want to see him. I don't care who he is--the great, big,
+ugly, old horrid! And if you say any thing more, I'll go home."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was about to say something, but her attention and
+Minnie's, and that of every one else, was suddenly diverted to another
+quarter.
+
+Among the crowd they had noticed a tall man, very thin, with a lean,
+cadaverous face, and long, lanky, rusty black hair. He wore a white
+neck-tie, and a suit of rusty black clothes. He also held a large
+umbrella in his hand, which he kept carefully up out of the way of the
+crowd. This figure was a conspicuous one, even in that crowd, and the
+ladies had noticed it at the very first.
+
+As the Pope drove up they saw this long, slim, thin, cadaverous man,
+in his suit of rusty black, edging his way through the crowd, so as to
+get nearer, until at length he stood immediately behind the line of
+Swiss Guards, who were keeping the crowd back, and forming a
+passageway for the Pope. Meanwhile his Holiness was advancing through
+the crowd. He reached out his hand, and smiled and bowed and murmured
+a blessing over them. At last his carriage stopped. The door was
+opened, and several attendants prepared to receive the Pope and assist
+him out.
+
+At that instant the tall, slim stranger pushed forward his sallow
+head, with its long, lanky, and rusty black hair, between two Swiss
+Guards, and tried to squeeze between them. The Swiss at first stood
+motionless, and the stranger had actually succeeded in getting about
+half-way through. He was immediately in front of his Holiness, and
+staring at him with all his might. His Holiness saw this very peculiar
+face, and was so surprised that he uttered an involuntary exclamation,
+and stopped short in his descent.
+
+The stranger stopped short too, and quite involuntarily also. For the
+Swiss Guards, irritated by his pertinacity, and seeing the Pope's
+gesture, turned suddenly, and two of them grasped the stranger by his
+coat collar.
+
+It was, of course, an extremely undignified attitude for the Swiss
+Guards, whose position is simply an ornamental one. Nothing but the
+most unparalleled outrage to their dignity could have moved them to
+this. So unusual a display of energy, however, did not last long. A
+few persons in citizens' clothes darted forward from among the crowd,
+and secured the stranger; while the Swiss, seeing who they were,
+resumed their erect, rigid, and ornamental attitude. The Pope found no
+longer any obstacle, and resumed his descent. For a moment the
+stranger had created a wide-spread consternation in the breasts of all
+the different and very numerous classes of men who composed that
+crowd. The arrest was the signal for a murmur of voices, among which
+the ladies heard those of the knot of Englishmen who stood near.
+
+"It's some Garibaldian," said they.
+
+And this was the general sentiment.
+
+Several hours after this they were at home, and a caller was
+announced. It was the Baron Atramonte.
+
+"Atramonte!" said Lady Dalrymple. "Who is that? We're not at home, of
+course. Atramonte! Some of these Italian nobles. Really, I think we
+have seen enough of them. Who is he, Kitty?"
+
+"I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea. I never heard of him in my
+life."
+
+"We're not at home, of course. It's a singular way, and surely can not
+be Roman fashion. It's not civilized fashion. But the Continental
+nobility are _so_ odd."
+
+In a few minutes the servant, who had been dispatched to say, "Not at
+home," returned with the statement that the Baron wished particularly
+to see Miss Fay on urgent business.
+
+[Illustration: "TWO OF THEM GRASPED THE STRANGER BY HIS COAT COLLAR."]
+
+At this extraordinary message Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby
+looked first at one another, and then at Minnie, in amazement.
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know any thing about him," said Minnie. "They
+_always_ tease me so. Oh, do go and see who he is, and send him
+away--please! Oh, do, please, Dowdy dear!"
+
+"Well, I suppose I had better see the person," said Lady Dalrymple,
+good-naturedly. "There must be some mistake. How is he dressed?" she
+asked the servant. "Is he a military gentleman? Most of them seem to
+belong to the army."
+
+"Yes, my lady. Zouave dress, my lady."
+
+At this Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie looked at one another. Lady
+Dalrymple went away; and as no other was present, Ethel being, as
+usual, in her room, Mrs. Willoughby sighed and said,
+
+"I thought that man must know you."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't know him," said Minnie. "I never knew a Zouave
+officer in my life."
+
+"It may be Captain Kirby, under an assumed name and a disguise."
+
+"Oh no, it isn't. I don't believe he would be such a perfect--monster.
+Oh dear! It's somebody, though. It must be. And he wants me. Oh, what
+_shall_ I do?"
+
+"Nonsense! You need not go. Aunty will see him, and send him off."
+
+"Oh, I do so hope he'll go; but I'm afraid he won't."
+
+After a short time Lady Dalrymple returned.
+
+"Really," said she, "this is a most extraordinary person. He speaks
+English, but not at all like an Englishman. I don't know who he is. He
+calls himself a Baron, but he doesn't seem to be a foreigner. I'm
+puzzled."
+
+"I hope he's gone," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"No--that's the worst of it. He won't go. He says he must see Minnie,
+and he won't tell his errand. I told him that he could not see you,
+but that I would tell you what he wanted, and that you were not at
+home. And what do you think he said?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, Dowdy dear."
+
+"Why, he said he had nothing to do, and would wait till you came back.
+And he took his seat in a way that showed that he meant to wait.
+Really, I'm quite at a loss what to do. You'll have to see him, Kitty
+dear."
+
+"What a strange person!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "It's _so_ rude. And
+don't you know what he is? How do you know he isn't an Italian?"
+
+"Oh, his English, you know. He speaks it perfectly, but not like an
+Englishman, you know, nor like a Scotchman either, or an Irishman. I
+wonder whether he may not be an American?"
+
+At this Minnie started.
+
+"Oh dear!" she said.
+
+"What's the matter, darling?"
+
+"An American! Oh dear! what _will_ become of me!"
+
+"Why," said Lady Dalrymple, "do you know him, then, after all?"
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ afraid that I know him!"
+
+"Who is it, dear?"
+
+"Oh, Dowdy! Oh, Kitty!"
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"It must be that man. Oh, was there _ever_ such a trouble--"
+
+"Really, Minnie dearest, you are allowing yourself to get too
+agitated. Who _is_ this person?"
+
+"He--he's--an--American."
+
+"An American? Why, I just said that I thought he might be one. I
+didn't know that you were acquainted with any."
+
+"Oh yes; I did get acquainted with some in--in Canada."
+
+"Oh; and is this man a Canadian?"
+
+"No, Dowdy darling; only an American."
+
+"Well, if he's a friend of yours, I suppose you know something about
+him. But how singular it is that you have so completely forgotten his
+name. Atramonte? Why, I'm sure it's a _very_ singular name for an
+American gentleman--at least it seems so to me--but I don't know much
+about them, you know. Tell me, darling, who is he?"
+
+"He--he saved my life."
+
+"What! saved your life? Why, my precious child, what _are_ you talking
+about? It was the Italian that saved your life, you know, not this
+one."
+
+"Oh, but he did too," said Minnie, despairingly. "I couldn't help it.
+He would do it. Papa was washed away. I wish they all wouldn't be so
+horrid."
+
+Lady Dalrymple looked in an equally despairing manner at Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+"What is it, Kitty dear? _Is_ the child insane, or what does she mean?
+How could this person have saved her life?"
+
+"That's just what distracts me," said Minnie. "They all do it. Every
+single person comes and saves my life. And now I suppose I must go
+down and see this person."
+
+"Well, really, since you say he saved your life, perhaps it would be
+as well not to be uncivil," said Lady Dalrymple; "but, at the same
+time, he seems to me to act in a very extraordinary manner. And he
+calls himself a Baron. Do they have nobles in America?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, Dowdy dear. I never knew that he was a Baron.
+He may have been the son of some American Baron; and--and--I'm sure I
+don't know."
+
+"Nonsense, Minnie dear," said Mrs. Willoughby. "This man's title is a
+foreign one. He probably obtained it in Italy or Spain, or perhaps
+Mexico. I think they have titles in Mexico, though I really don't
+know."
+
+"Why, of course, one isn't expected to know any thing about America,"
+said Lady Dalrymple. "I can mention quite a number of English
+statesmen, members of the cabinet, and others, who don't know any more
+about America than I do."
+
+"Do you really intend to go down yourself and see him, Minnie dear?"
+asked Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"How can I help it? What am I to do? I must go, Kitty darling. He is
+so very positive, and--and he insists so. I don't want to hurt his
+feelings, you know; and I really think there is nothing for me to do
+but to go. What do you think about it, Dowdy dear?" and she appealed
+to her aunt.
+
+"Well, Minnie, my child, I think it would be best not to be unkind or
+uncivil, since he saved your life."
+
+Upon this Minnie accompanied her sister to see the visitor.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby entered the room first, and Minnie was close behind
+her, as though she sought protection from some unknown peril. On
+entering the room they saw a man dressed in Zouave uniform. His hair
+was cropped short; he wore a mustache and no beard; his features were
+regular and handsome; while a pair of fine dark eyes were looking
+earnestly at the door, and the face and the eyes had the expression of
+one who is triumphantly awaiting the result of some agreeable
+surprise. Mrs. Willoughby at once recognized the stranger as the
+Zouave officer who had stared at them near the Church of the Jesuits.
+She advanced with lady-like grace toward him, when suddenly he stepped
+hastily past her, without taking any notice of her, and catching
+Minnie in his arms, he kissed her several times.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby started back in horror.
+
+Minnie did not resist, nor did she scream, or faint, or do any thing.
+She only looked a little confused, and managed to extricate herself,
+after which she took a seat as far away as she could, putting her
+sister between her and the Zouave. But the Zouave's joy was full, and
+he didn't appear to notice it. He settled himself in a chair, and
+laughed loud in his happiness.
+
+"Only to think of it," said he. "Why, I had no more idea of your being
+here, Minnie, than _Victory_. Well, here you see me. Only been here a
+couple of months or so. You got my last favor, of course? And ain't
+you regular knocked up to see me a Baron? Yes, a Baron--a real, live
+Baron! I'll tell you all about it. You see I was here two or three
+years ago--the time of Mentana--and fought on the Pope's side. Odd
+thing, too, wasn't it, for an American? But so it was. Well, they
+promoted me, and wanted me to stay. But I couldn't fix it. I had
+business off home, and was on my way there the time of the shipwreck.
+Well, I've been dodgin' all round every where since then, but never
+forgettin' little Min, mind you, and at last I found myself here, all
+right. I'd been speculatin' in wines and raisins, and just dropped in
+here to take pot-luck with some old Zouave friends, when, darn me! if
+they didn't make me stay. It seems there's squally times ahead. They
+wanted a live man. They knew I was that live man. They offered me any
+thing I wanted. They offered me the title of Baron Atramonte. That
+knocked me, I tell you. Says I, I'm your man. So now you see me Baron
+Atramonte, captain in the Papal Zouaves, ready to go where glory waits
+me--but fonder than ever of little Min. Oh, I tell you what, I ain't a
+bit of a brag, but I'm _some_ here. The men think I'm a little the
+tallest lot in the shape of a commander they ever _did_ see. When I'm
+in Rome I do as the Romans do, and so I let fly at them a speech every
+now and then. Why, I've gone through nearly the whole 'National
+Speaker' by this time. I've given them Marcellus's speech to the mob,
+Brutus's to the Romans, and Antony's over Cæsar's dead body. I tried a
+bit of Cicero against Catiline, but I couldn't remember it very well.
+You know it, of course. _Quousque tandem_, you know."
+
+[Illustration:
+"CATCHING MINNIE IN HIS ARMS, HE KISSED HER SEVERAL TIMES."]
+
+"Well, Min, how goes it?" he continued. "This _is_ jolly; and, what's
+more, it's real good in you--darn me if it ain't! I knew you'd be
+regularly struck up all of a heap when you heard of me as a Baron, but
+I really didn't think you'd come all the way here to see me. And you
+do look stunning! You do beat all! And this lady? You haven't
+introduced me, you know."
+
+The Baron rose, and looked expectantly at Mrs. Willoughby, and then at
+Minnie. The latter faltered forth some words, among which the Baron
+caught the names Mrs. Willoughby and Rufus K. Gunn, the latter name
+pronounced, with the middle initial and all, in a queer, prim way.
+
+"Mrs. Willoughby--ah!--Min's sister, I presume. Well, I'm pleased to
+see you, ma'am. Do you know, ma'am, I have reason to remember your
+name? It's associated with the brightest hours of my life. It was in
+your parlor, ma'am, that I first obtained Min's promise of her hand.
+Your hand, madam."
+
+And, stooping down, he grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand, which was not
+extended, and wrung it so hard that she actually gave a little shriek.
+
+"For my part, ma'am," he continued, "I'm not ashamed of my name--not a
+mite. It's a good, honest name; but being as the Holy Father's gone
+and made me a noble, I prefer being addressed by my title. All
+Americans are above titles. They despise them. But being in Rome, you
+see, we must do as the Romans do; and so you needn't know me as Rufus
+K. Gunn, but as the Baron Atramonte. As for you, Min--you and I won't
+stand on ceremony--you may call me 'Roof,' or any other name you
+fancy. I would suggest some pet name--something a little loving, you
+know."
+
+In the midst of all this, which was poured forth with extreme
+volubility, the servant came and handed a card.
+
+"Count Girasole."
+
+[Illustration: "HAWBURY, AS I'M A LIVING SINNER!"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE AMERICAN BARON.
+
+
+At any other time Mrs. Willoughby would perhaps have manoeuvred Minnie
+out of the room; but on the present occasion the advent of the Italian
+was an inexpressible relief. Mrs. Willoughby was not prepared for a
+scene like this. The manners, the language, and the acts of Rufus K.
+Gunn had filled her with simple horror. She was actually bewildered,
+and her presence of mind was utterly gone. As for Minnie, she was
+quite helpless, and sat, looking frightened. The Baron Atramonte might
+have been one of the excellent of the earth--he might have been brave
+and loyal and just and true and tender, but his manner was one to
+which they were unaccustomed, and consequently Mrs. Willoughby was
+quite overcome.
+
+The arrival of Girasole, therefore, was greeted by her with joy. She
+at once rose to meet him, and could not help infusing into her
+greeting a warmth which she had never shown him before. Girasole's
+handsome eyes sparkled with delight, and when Mrs. Willoughby
+pointedly made way for him to seat himself next to Minnie his cup of
+joy was full. Mrs. Willoughby's only idea at that moment was to throw
+some obstacle between Minnie and that "dreadful person" who claimed
+her as his own, and had taken such shocking liberties. She did not
+know that Girasole was in Rome, and now accepted his arrival at that
+opportune moment as something little less than providential.
+
+And now, actuated still by the idea of throwing further obstacles
+between Minnie and the Baron, she herself went over to the latter, and
+began a series of polite remarks about the weather and about Rome;
+while Girasole, eager to avail himself of his unexpected privilege,
+conversed with Minnie in a low voice in his broken English.
+
+This arrangement was certainly not very agreeable to the Baron. His
+flow of spirits seemed to be checked at once, and his volubility
+ceased. He made only monosyllabic answers to Mrs. Willoughby's
+remarks, and his eyes kept wandering, over beyond her to Minnie, and
+scrutinizing the Italian who was thus monopolizing her at the very
+moment when he was beginning to have a "realizing sense" of her
+presence. He looked puzzled. He could not understand it at all. He
+felt that some wrong was done by somebody. He fell into an ungracious
+mood. He hated the Italian who had thus come between him and his
+happiness, and who chatted with Minnie, in his abominable broken
+English, just like an old acquaintance. He couldn't understand it. He
+felt an unpleasant restraint thrown over him, and began to meditate a
+departure, and a call at some more favorable time later in the
+evening. But he wanted to have a few more words with "Min," and so he
+tried to "sit out" the Italian.
+
+But the Italian was as determined as the American. It was the first
+chance that he had had to get a word with Minnie since he was in
+Milan, and he was eager to avail himself of it. Mrs. Willoughby, on
+her part, having thus discomfited the Baron, was not unmindful of the
+other danger; so she moved her seat to a position near enough to
+overlook and check Girasole, and then resumed those formal, chilling,
+heartless, but perfectly polite remarks which she had been
+administering to the Baron since Girasole's arrival.
+
+At length Mrs. Willoughby began to be dreadfully bored, and groaned in
+spirit over the situation in which Minnie had placed herself, and
+racked her brains to find some way of retreat from these two
+determined lovers, who thus set at naught the usages of society for
+their own convenience. She grew indignant. She wondered if they would
+_ever_ go. She wondered if it were not possible to engage the Count
+and the Baron in a conversation by themselves, and, under cover of it,
+withdraw. Finally she began to think whether she would not be
+justified in being rude to them, since they were so inconsiderate. She
+thought over this, and was rapidly coming to the decision that some
+act of rudeness was her only hope, when, to her immense relief, the
+servant entered and announced Lord Hawbury.
+
+The entrance of the welcome guest into the room where the unwelcome
+ones were seated was to Mrs. Willoughby like light in a dark place. To
+Minnie also it brought immense relief in her difficult position. The
+ladies rose, and were about to greet the new-comer, when, to their
+amazement, the Baron sprang forward, caught Lord Hawbury's hand, and
+wrung it over and over again with the most astonishing vehemence.
+
+"Hawbury, as I'm a living sinner! Thunderation! Where did you come
+from? Good again! Darn it all, Hawbury, this is real good! And how
+well you look! _How_ are you? All right, and right side up? Who'd have
+thought it? It ain't you, really, now, is it? Darn me if I ever was so
+astonished in my life! You're the last man I'd have expected. Yes,
+_Sir_. You may bet high on that."
+
+"Ah, really," said Hawbury, "my dear fellow! Flattered, I'm sure. And
+how goes it with you? Deuced odd place to find you, old boy. And I'm
+deuced glad to see you, you know, and all that sort of thing."
+
+And he wrung the Baron's hand quite as heartily as the other wrung
+his; and the expression on his face was of as much cordiality and
+pleasure as that upon the face of the other. Then Hawbury greeted the
+ladies, and apologized by stating that the Baron was a very old and
+tried friend, whom he had not seen for years; which intelligence
+surprised Mrs. Willoughby greatly, and brought a faint ray of
+something like peace to poor Minnie.
+
+The ladies were not imprisoned much longer. Girasole threw a black
+look at Lord Hawbury, and retreated. After a few moments' chat Hawbury
+also retired, and made the Baron go with him. And the Baron went
+without any urging. He insisted, however, on shaking hands heartily
+with both of the ladies, especially Minnie, whose poor little hand he
+nearly crushed into a pulp; and to the latter he whispered the
+consoling assurance that he would come to see her on the following
+day. After which he followed his friend out.
+
+Then he took Hawbury over to his own quarters, and Hawbury made
+himself very much at home in a rocking-chair, which the Baron regarded
+as the pride and joy and glory of his room.
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "This is deuced odd, do you know, old chap;
+and I can't imagine how the mischief you got here!"
+
+This led to long explanations, and a long conversation, which was
+protracted far into the night, to the immense enjoyment of both of the
+friends.
+
+The Baron was, as Lord Hawbury had said, an old friend. He had become
+acquainted with him many years before upon the prairies of America,
+near the Rocky Mountains. The Baron had rescued him from Indians, by
+whom he had been entrapped, and the two friends had wandered far over
+those regions, enduring perils, fighting enemies, and roughing it in
+general. This rough life had made each one's better nature visible to
+the other, and had led to the formation of a friendship full of mutual
+appreciation of the other's best qualities. Now it is just possible
+that if they had not known one another, Hawbury might have thought the
+Baron a boor, and the Baron might have called Hawbury a "thundering
+snob;" but as it was, the possible boor and the possible snob each
+thought the other one of the finest fellows in the world.
+
+"But you're not a Roman Catholic," said Hawbury, as the Baron
+explained his position among the Zouaves.
+
+"What's the odds? All's fish that comes to their net. To get an office
+in the Church may require a profession of faith, but we're not so
+particular in the army. I take the oath, and they let me go. Besides,
+I have Roman Catholic leanings."
+
+"Roman Catholic leanings?"
+
+"Yes; I like the Pope. He's a fine man, Sir--a fine man. I regard that
+man more like a father than any thing else. There isn't one of us but
+would lay down our lives for that old gentleman."
+
+"But you never go to confession, and you're not a member of the
+Church."
+
+"No; but then I'm a member of the army, and I have long chats with
+some of the English-speaking priests. There are some first-rate
+fellows among them, too. Yes, Sir."
+
+"I don't see much of a leaning in all that."
+
+"Leaning? Why, it's all leaning. Why, look here. I remember the time
+when I was a grim, true-blue Puritan. Well, I ain't that now. I used
+to think the Pope was the Beast of the 'Pocalypse. Well, now I think
+he's the finest old gentleman I ever saw. I didn't use to go to
+Catholic chapel. Well, now I'm there often, and I rather kind o' like
+it. Besides, I'm ready to argue with them all day and all night, and
+what more can they expect from a fighting man?
+
+"You see, after our war I got my hand in, and couldn't stop fighting.
+The Indians wouldn't do--too much throat-cutting and savagery. So I
+came over here, took a fancy to the Pope, enlisted, was at Mentana,
+fit there, got promoted, went home, couldn't stand it, and here I am,
+back again; though how long I'm going to be here is more'n I can tell.
+The fact is, I feel kind of onsettled."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Oh, it's an aggravating place, at the best."
+
+"How?"
+
+"There's such an everlasting waste of resources--such tarnation bad
+management. Fact is, I've noted that it's always the case wherever you
+trust ministers to do business. They're sure to make a mess of it.
+I've known lots of cases. Why, that's always the way with us. Look at
+our stock-companies of any kind, our religious societies, and our
+publishing houses--wherever they get a ministerial committee, the
+whole concern goes to blazes. I _know_ that. Yes, _Sir_. Now that's
+the case here. Here's a fine country. Why, round this here city there's
+a country, Sir, that, if properly managed, might beat any of our
+prairies--and look at it.
+
+"Then, again, they complain of poverty. Why, I can tell you, from my
+own observation, that they've got enough capital locked up, lying
+useless, in this here city, to regenerate it all, and put it on its
+feet. This capital wants to be utilized. It's been lying too long
+without paying interest. It's time that it stopped. Why, I tell you
+what it is, if they were to sell out what they have here lying idle,
+and realize, they'd get enough money to form an endowment fund for the
+Pope and his court so big that his Holiness and every official in the
+place might get salaries all round out of the interest that would
+enable them to live like--well, I was going to say like princes, but
+there's a lot of princes in Rome that live so shabby that the
+comparison ain't worth nothing.
+
+"Why, see here, now," continued the Baron, warming with his theme,
+which seemed to be a congenial one; "just look here; see the position
+of this Roman court. They can actually levy taxes on the whole world.
+Voluntary contributions, Sir, are a wonderful power. Think of our
+missionary societies--our Sabbath-school organizations in the States.
+Think of the wealth, the activity, and the action of all our great
+charitable, philanthropic, and religious bodies. What supports them
+all? Voluntary contributions. Now what I mean to say is this--I mean
+to say that if a proper organization was arranged here, they could get
+annual receipts from the whole round globe that would make the Pope
+the richest man on it. Why, in that case Rothschild wouldn't be a
+circumstance. The Pope might go into banking himself, and control the
+markets of the world. But no. There's a lot of ministers here, and
+they haven't any head for it. I wish they'd give me a chance. I'd make
+things spin.
+
+"Then, again, they've got other things here that's ruining them.
+There's too much repression, and that don't do for the immortal mind.
+My idea is that every man was created free and equal, and has a right
+to do just as he darn pleases; but you can't beat that into the heads
+of the governing class here. No, Sir. The fact is, what Rome wants is
+a republic. It'll come, too, some day. The great mistake of his
+Holiness's life is that he didn't put himself at the head of the
+movement in '48. He had the chance, but he got frightened, and backed
+down. Whereas if he had been a real, live Yankee, now--if he had been
+like some of our Western parsons--he'd have put himself on the tiptop
+of the highest wave, and gone in. Why, he could have had all Italy at
+his right hand by this time, instead of having it all against him.
+There's where he made his little mistake. If I were Pope I'd fight the
+enemy with their own weapons. I'd accept the situation. I'd go in head
+over heels for a republic. I'd have Rome the capital, myself
+president, Garibaldi commander-in-chief, Mazzini secretary of state--a
+man, Sir, that can lick even Bill Seward himself in a regular,
+old-fashioned, tonguey, subtile, diplomatic note. And in that case,
+with a few live men at the head of affairs, where would Victor Emanuel
+be? Emphatically, nowhere!
+
+"Why, Sir," continued the Baron, "I'd engage to take this city as it
+is, and the office of Pope, and run the whole Roman Catholic Church,
+till it knocked out all opposition by the simple and natural process
+of absorbing all opponents. We want a republic here in Rome. We want
+freedom, Sir. Where is the Church making its greatest triumphs to-day?
+In the States, Sir. If the Catholic Church made itself free and
+liberal and go-ahead; if it kept up with the times; if it was imbued
+with the spirit of progress, and pitched aside all old-fashioned
+traditions--why, I tell you, Sir, it would be a little the tallest
+organization on this green globe of ours. Yes, _Sir!_"
+
+While Hawbury and the Baron were thus engaged in high discourse, Mrs.
+Willoughby and Minnie were engaged in discourses of a less elevated
+but more engrossing character.
+
+After the ladies had escaped they went up stairs. Lady Dalrymple had
+retired some time before to her own room, and they had the apartment
+to themselves. Minnie flung herself into a chair and looked
+bewildered; Mrs. Willoughby took another chair opposite, and said
+nothing for a long time.
+
+"Well," said Minnie at last, "you needn't be so cross, Kitty; I didn't
+bring him here."
+
+"Cross!" said her sister; "I'm not cross."
+
+"Well, you're showing temper, at any rate; and you know you are, and I
+think it very unkind in you, when I have so much to trouble me."
+
+"Why, really, Minnie darling, I don't know what to say."
+
+"Well, why don't you tell me what you think of him, and all that sort
+of thing? You _might_, you know."
+
+"Think of him!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, elevating her eyebrows.
+
+"Yes, think of him; and you needn't go and make faces about him, at
+any rate."
+
+"Did I make faces? Well, dear," said Mrs. Willoughby, patiently, "I'll
+tell you what I think of him. I'm afraid of him."
+
+"Well, then," said Minnie, in a tone of triumph, "now you know how I
+feel. Suppose he saved your life, and then came in his awfully
+boisterous way to see you; and got you alone, and began that way, and
+really quite overwhelmed you, you know; and then, when you were really
+almost stunned, suppose he went and proposed to you? Now, then!"
+
+And Minnie ended this question with the air of one who could not be
+answered, and knew it.
+
+"He's awful--perfectly awful!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "And the way he
+treated you! It was _so_ shocking."
+
+"I know; and that's just the horrid way he _always_ does," said
+Minnie, in a plaintive tone. "I'm sure _I_ don't know what to do with
+him. And then he's Lord Hawbury's friend. So what _are_ we to do?"
+
+[Illustration: "LOOK AT THE MAN!"]
+
+"I don't know, unless we leave Rome at once."
+
+"But I don't _want_ to leave Rome," said Minnie. "I hate being chased
+away from places by people--and they'd be sure to follow me, you
+know--and I don't know what to do. And oh, Kitty darling, I've just
+thought of something. It would be so nice. What do you think of it?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why, this. You know the Pope?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Oh, well, you've seen him, you know."
+
+"Yes; but what has he got to do with it?"
+
+"Why, I'll get you to take me, and I'll go to him, and tell him all
+about it, and about all these horrid men; and I'll ask him if he can't
+do something or other to help me. They have dispensations and things,
+you know, that the Pope gives; and I want him to let me dispense with
+these awful people."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I don't see any nonsense in it at all. I'm in earnest," said Minnie;
+"and I think it's a great shame."
+
+"Nonsense!" said her sister again; "the only thing is for you to stay
+in your room."
+
+"But I don't want to stay in my room, and I can't."
+
+"Oh dear! what can I do with this child?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby,
+whose patience was giving way.
+
+Upon this Minnie went over and kissed her, and begged to be forgiven;
+and offered to do any thing that darling Kitty wanted her to do.
+
+After this they talked a good deal over their difficulty, but without
+being able to see their way out of it more clearly.
+
+That evening they were walking up and down the balcony of the house.
+It was a quadrangular edifice, and they had a suite of rooms on the
+second and third stories. They were on the balcony of the third story,
+which looked down into the court-yard below. A fountain was in the
+middle of this, and the moon was shining brightly.
+
+The ladies were standing looking down, when Minnie gently touched her
+sister's arm, and whispered,
+
+"Look at the man!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"By the fountain."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked, and saw the face of a man who was standing on
+the other side of the fountain. His head rose above it, and his face
+was turned toward them. He evidently did not know that he was seen,
+but was watching the ladies, thinking that he himself was unobserved.
+The moment that Mrs. Willoughby looked at the face she recognized it.
+
+"Come in," said she to Minnie. And drawing her sister after her, she
+went into the house.
+
+"I knew the face; didn't you, Kitty dear?" said Minnie. "It's so easy
+to tell it. It was Scone Dacres. But what in the world does he want?
+Oh dear! I hope _he_ won't bother me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE INTRUDER.
+
+
+Judging from the Baron's own words, it will be perceived that his
+comprehension of the situation was a little different from the actual
+fact. His idea was that his last letter had been received by Minnie in
+England, whereupon she had been seized with such an ungovernable
+longing to see him that she at once set out for Rome. She had not sent
+him any message, for she wished to surprise him. She had done so
+effectually. He was not merely surprised; he was overwhelmed,
+overjoyed, intoxicated with joy. This was indeed kind, he thought--the
+true part of a fond girl, who thus cast aside all silly scruples, and
+followed the dictates of her own noble and loving heart.
+
+Now the fact that he had made a partial failure of his first visit to
+his charmer did not in the slightest degree disconcert him. He was
+naturally joyous, hilarious, and sanguine. His courage never faltered,
+nor could the brightness of his soul be easily dimmed. A
+disappointment on one day gave him but little trouble. It was quickly
+thrown off, and then his buoyant spirit looked forward for better
+fortune on the next day. The little disappointment which he had did
+not, therefore, prevent him from letting his reason feast and his soul
+flow with Lord Hawbury; nor, when that festive season was over, did it
+prevent him from indulging in the brightest anticipations for the
+following day.
+
+On the afternoon of that day, then, the Baron directed his steps
+toward the hotel where his charmer resided, his heart beating high,
+and the generous blood mantling his cheek, and all that sort of thing.
+But the Baron was not alone. He had a companion, and this companion
+was an acquaintance whom he had made that morning. This companion was
+very tall, very thin, very sallow, with long, straggling locks of
+rusty black hair, white neck-tie, and a suit of rather seedy black
+clothes. In fact, it was the very stranger who had been arrested
+almost under his eyes as a Garibaldian. His case had come under the
+notice of the Baron, who had visited him, and found him not to be a
+Garibaldian at all, but a fellow-countryman in distress--in short, no
+less a person than the Reverend Saul Tozer, an esteemed clergyman, who
+had been traveling through Europe for the benefit of his health and
+the enlargement of his knowledge. This fellow-countryman in distress
+had at once been released by the Baron's influence; and, not content
+with giving him his liberty, he determined to take him under his
+protection, and offered to introduce him to society; all of which
+generous offices were fully appreciated by the grateful clergyman.
+
+The Baron's steps were first directed toward the place above
+mentioned, and the Reverend Saul accompanied him. On reaching it he
+knocked, and asked for Miss Fay.
+
+"Not at home," was the reply.
+
+"Oh, well," said he, "I'll go in and wait till she comes home. Come
+along, parson, and make yourself quite at home. Oh, never mind, young
+man," he continued to the servant; "I know the way. Come along,
+parson." And with these words he led the way into the reception-room,
+in which he had been before.
+
+An elderly lady was seated there whom the Baron recognized as having
+seen before. It was Lady Dalrymple, whose name was, of course, unknown
+to him, since he had only exchanged a few words on his former visit.
+But as he was naturally chivalrous, and as he was bent on making
+friends with all in the house, and as he was also in a glorious state
+of good-will to the entire human race, he at once advanced to the lady
+and made a low bow.
+
+"How do you do, ma'am?"
+
+Lady Dalrymple bowed good-naturedly, for she was good-natured to a
+fault.
+
+"I suppose you remember me, ma'am," said the Baron, in rather a loud
+voice; for, as the lady was elderly, he had a vague idea that she was
+deaf--which impression, I may mention, was altogether unfounded--"I
+suppose you remember me, ma'am? But I haven't had the pleasure of a
+regular introduction to you; so we'll waive ceremony, if you choose,
+and I'll introduce myself. I'm the Baron Atramonte, and this is my
+very particular friend, the Reverend Saul Tozer."
+
+"I'm happy to make your acquaintance," said Lady Dalrymple, with a
+smile, and not taking the Baron's offered hand--not, however, from
+pride, but simply from laziness--for she hated the bother, and didn't
+consider it good taste.
+
+"I called here, ma'am," said the Baron, without noticing that Lady
+Dalrymple had not introduced _herself_--"I called here, ma'am, to see
+my young friend, Miss Minnie Fay. I'm very sorry that she ain't at
+home; but since I _am_ here, I rather think I'll just set down and
+wait for her. I s'pose you couldn't tell me, ma'am, about how long
+it'll be before she comes in?"
+
+Lady Dalrymple hadn't any idea.
+
+"All right," said the Baron; "the longer she keeps me waiting, the
+more welcome she'll be when she does come. That's all I've got to
+say."
+
+So the Baron handed a chair to the Reverend Saul, and then selecting
+another for himself in a convenient position, he ensconced himself in
+it as snugly as possible, and sat in silence for a few minutes. Lady
+Dalrymple took no notice of him whatever, but appeared to be engrossed
+with some trifle of needle-work.
+
+After about five minutes the Baron resumed the task of making himself
+agreeable.
+
+He cleared his throat.
+
+"Long in these parts, ma'am?" he asked.
+
+"Not very long," said Lady Dalrymple, with her usual bland
+good-nature.
+
+"A nice place this," continued the Baron.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And do you keep your health, ma'am?" inquired the Baron, with some
+anxiety.
+
+"Thanks," said Lady Dalrymple; which observation set the Baron's mind
+wondering what she meant by that.
+
+"Pray, ma'am," said he, after a pause, "might you be any relation to a
+young lady friend of mine that's staying here named Minnie Fay?"
+
+"A little," said Lady Dalrymple; which remark set the Baron again
+wondering. And he was about to return to the charge with another and
+more direct question, when his attention was arrested by the sound of
+footsteps on the stairs; so he sat bolt upright, and stared hard at
+the door. There was the rustle of a dress. The Baron rose. So did the
+Reverend Saul Tozer. The lady appeared. It was not Minnie. It was Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+Now during the Baron's visit there had been some excitement up stairs.
+The ladies had told the servants that they were not at home to any
+callers that day. They had found with consternation how carelessly the
+Baron had brushed aside their little cobweb regulation, and had heard
+his voice as he strove to keep up an easy conversation with their
+aunt. Whereupon an earnest debate arose. They felt that it was not
+fair to leave their aunt alone with the Baron, and that one of them
+should go to the rescue. To Mrs. Willoughby's amazement, Minnie was
+anxious to go. To this she utterly objected. Minnie insisted, and Mrs.
+Willoughby was in despair. In vain she reproached that most whimsical
+of young ladies. In vain she reminded her of the Baron's rudeness on a
+former occasion. Minnie simply reminded her that the Baron had saved
+her life. At last Mrs. Willoughby actually had to resort to
+entreaties, and thus she persuaded Minnie not to go down. So she went
+down herself, but in fear and trembling, for she did not know at what
+moment her voluble and utterly unreliable sister might take it into
+her head to follow her.
+
+The Baron, who had risen, full of expectation, stood looking at her,
+full of disappointment, which was very strongly marked on his face.
+Then he recollected that Minnie was "not at home," and that he must
+wait till she did get home. This thought, and the hope that he would
+not now have long to wait, brought back his friendly glow, and his
+calm and his peace and his good-will toward the whole human race,
+including the ladies in the room. He therefore bowed very low, and,
+advancing, he made an effort to shake hands; but Mrs. Willoughby had
+already known the dread pressure which the Baron gave, and evaded him
+by a polite bow. Thereupon the Baron introduced the Reverend Saul
+Tozer.
+
+The Baron took out his watch, looked at it, frowned, coughed, put it
+back, and then drummed with his fingers on the arm of the chair.
+
+"Will it be long, ma'am," asked the Baron, "before Minnie gets back?"
+
+"She is not out," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Not out?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, the thundering fool of a servant went and told me that she was
+not at home!"
+
+"She is at home," said Mrs. Willoughby, sweetly.
+
+"What! at home!" cried the Baron. "And does she know _I'm_ here?"
+
+"She does."
+
+"Then why in thunder don't she come down?" cried the Baron,
+wonderingly.
+
+"Because she is indisposed."
+
+"Indisposed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+This was the information which Mrs. Willoughby had decided to give to
+the Baron. Minnie had stipulated that his feelings should not be hurt;
+and this seemed to her to be the easiest mode of dealing with him.
+
+"Indisposed!" cried the Baron.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh dear! Oh, I hope, ma'am--I do hope, ma'am, that she ain't very
+bad. Is it any thing serious--or what?"
+
+"Not _very_ serious; she has to keep her room, though."
+
+"She ain't sick abed, I hope?"
+
+"Oh no--not so bad as that!"
+
+"Oh dear! it's all _me_, I know. _I'm_ to blame. She made this
+journey--the poor little pet!--just to see me; and the fatigue and the
+excitement have all been too much. Oh, I might have known it! Oh, I
+remember now how pale she looked yesterday! Oh dear! what'll I do if
+any thing happens to her? Oh, do tell me--is she better?--did she pass
+a good night?--does she suffer any pain?--can I do any thing for
+her?--will you take a little message from me to her?"
+
+"She is quite easy now, thanks," said Mrs. Willoughby; "but we have to
+keep her perfectly quiet; the slightest excitement may be dangerous."
+
+Meanwhile the Reverend Saul had become wearied with sitting dumb, and
+began to look around for some suitable means of taking part in the
+conversation. As the Baron had introduced him to society, he felt that
+it was his duty to take some part so as to assert himself both as a
+man, a scholar, and a clergyman. So, as he found the Baron was
+monopolizing Mrs. Willoughby, he gradually edged over till he came
+within ear-shot of Lady Dalrymple, and then began to work his way
+toward a conversation.
+
+"This, ma'am," he began, "is truly an interesting spot."
+
+Lady Dalrymple bowed.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. I've been for the past few days surveying the ruins of
+antiquity. It is truly a soul-stirring spectacle."
+
+"So I have heard," remarked Lady Dalrymple, cheerfully.
+
+"Every thing around us, ma'am," continued the Reverend Saul, in a
+dismal voice, "is subject to dissolution, or is actually dissolving.
+How forcible air the words of the Psalmist: 'Our days air as the
+grass, or like the morning flower; when blasting winds sweep o'er the
+vale, they wither in an hour.' Yes, ma'am, I have this week stood in
+the Roman Forum. The Coliseum, also, ma'am, is a wonderful place. It
+was built by the Flavian emperors, and when completed could hold
+eighty thousand spectators seated, with about twenty thousand
+standing. In hot weather these spectators were protected from the rays
+of the sun by means of awnings. It is a mighty fabric, ma'am!"
+
+"I should think so," said Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"The arch of Titus, ma'am, is a fine ruin. It was originally built by
+the emperor of that name to commemorate the conquest of Jerusalem. The
+arch of Septimius Severus was built by the Emperor of that name, and
+the arch of Constantine was built by the emperor of _that_ name. They
+are all very remarkable structures."
+
+"I'm charmed to hear you say so."
+
+"It's true, ma'am; but let me add, ma'am, that the ruins of this
+ancient city do not offer to my eyes a spectacle half so melancholy as
+the great moral ruin which is presented by the modern city. For,
+ma'am, when I look around, what do I see? I behold the Babylon of the
+Apocalypse! Pray, ma'am, have you ever reflected much on that?"
+
+"Not to any great extent," said Lady Dalrymple, who now began to feel
+bored, and so arose to her feet. The Reverend Saul Tozer was just
+getting on a full head of conversational steam, and was just fairly
+under way, when this sad and chilling occurrence took place. She rose
+and bowed to the gentlemen, and began to retreat.
+
+All this time the Baron had been pouring forth to Mrs. Willoughby his
+excited interrogatories about Minnie's health, and had asked her to
+take a message. This Mrs. Willoughby refused at first.
+
+"Oh no!" said she; "it will really disturb her too much. What she
+wants most is perfect quiet. Her health is really _very_ delicate, and
+I am _excessively_ anxious about her."
+
+"But does she--does she--is she--can she walk about her own room?"
+stammered the Baron.
+
+"A little," said Mrs. Willoughby. "Oh, I hope in a few weeks she may
+be able to come down. But the very _greatest_ care and quiet are
+needed, for she is in such a _very_ delicate state that we watch her
+night and day."
+
+"A few weeks!" echoed the Baron, in dismay. "Watch her night and day!"
+
+"Oh, you know, it is the only chance for her recovery. She is _so_
+delicate."
+
+The Baron looked at Mrs. Willoughby with a pale face, upon which there
+was real suffering and real misery.
+
+"Can't I do something?" he gasped. "Won't you take a message to her?
+It ought to do her good. Perhaps she thinks I'm neglecting her.
+Perhaps she thinks I ain't here enough. Tell her I'm ready to give up
+my office, and even my title of nobility, and come and live here, if
+it'll be any comfort to her."
+
+"Oh, really, Sir, you _quite_ mistake her," said Mrs. Willoughby. "It
+has no reference to you whatever. It's a nervous affection,
+accompanied with general debility and neuralgia."
+
+"Oh no, you don't know her," said the Baron, incredulously. "I _know_
+her. I know what it is. But she walks, don't she?"
+
+"Yes, a little--just across the room; still, even that is too much.
+She is _very, very_ weak, and must be _quite_ kept free from
+excitement. Even the excitement of your visits is bad for her. Her
+pulse is--is--always--accelerated--and--she--I--Oh, dear me!"
+
+While Mrs. Willoughby had been making up this last sentence she was
+startled by a rustling on the stairs. It was the rustle of a female's
+dress. An awful thought occurred to her, which distracted her, and
+confused her in the middle of her sentence, and made her scarce able
+to articulate her words. And as she spoke them the rustle drew nearer,
+and she heard the sound of feet descending the stairs, until at last
+the footsteps approached the door, and Mrs. Willoughby, to her utter
+horror, saw Minnie herself.
+
+Now as to the Baron, in the course of his animated conversation with
+Mrs. Willoughby, and in his excited entreaties to her to carry a
+message up to the invalid, he had turned round with his back to the
+door. It was about the time that Lady Dalrymple had begun to beat a
+retreat. As she advanced the Baron saw her, and, with his usual
+politeness, moved ever so far to one side, bowing low as he did so.
+Lady Dalrymple passed, the Baron raised himself, and as Mrs.
+Willoughby was yet speaking, and had just reached the exclamation
+which concluded her last remark, he was astounded by the sudden
+appearance of Minnie herself at the door.
+
+The effect of this sudden appearance was overwhelming. Mrs. Willoughby
+stood thunder-struck, and the Baron utterly bewildered. The latter
+recovered his faculties first. It was just as Lady Dalrymple was
+passing out. With a bound he sprang toward Minnie, and caught her in
+his arms, uttering a series of inarticulate cries.
+
+"Oh, Min! and you did come down, did you? And you couldn't stay up
+there, could you? I wanted to send a message to you. Poor little Min!
+you're so weak. Is it any thing serious? Oh, my darling little Min!
+But sit down on this here seat. Don't stand; you're too weak. Why
+didn't you send, and I'd have carried you down? But tell me now,
+honest, wasn't it _me_ that brought this on? Never mind, I'll never
+leave you again."
+
+This is the style which the gallant Baron adopted to express his
+sentiments concerning Minnie; and the result was that he succeeded in
+giving utterance to words that were quite as incoherent as any that
+Minnie herself, in her most rambling moods, had ever uttered.
+
+The Baron now gave himself up to joy. He took no notice of any body.
+He sat by Minnie's side on a sofa, and openly held her hand. The
+Reverend Saul Tozer looked on with an approving smile, and surveyed
+the scene like a father. Mrs. Willoughby's soul was on fire with
+indignation at Minnie's folly and the Baron's impudence. She was also
+indignant that her little conventional falsehoods had been suddenly
+disproved by the act of Minnie herself. Yet she did not know what to
+say, and so she went to a chair, and flung herself into it in fierce
+anger.
+
+As for Minnie herself, she had come down to the Baron, and appeared
+rather to enjoy the situation. She talked about Rome and Naples, and
+asked him all about himself, and the Baron explained his whole
+situation down to the minutest detail. She was utterly indifferent to
+her sister. Once or twice the Baron made a move to go, but did not
+succeed. He finally settled himself down apparently for the rest of
+the day; but Mrs. Willoughby at last interposed. She walked forward.
+She took Minnie's hand, and spoke to her in a tone which she but
+seldom used.
+
+"You shall _not_ stay here any longer!" she cried. "Come."
+
+And Minnie obeyed at once.
+
+The Baron insisted on a tender adieu. Mrs. Willoughby stood by, with
+flashing eyes and heaving breast.
+
+Minnie followed her up stairs in silence.
+
+"You silly child!" she cried. "Are you mad? What made you come down?
+You broke your promise!"
+
+"Well--well--I couldn't help it, and he is so deliciously rude; and do
+you know, Kitty dearest, I really begin to feel quite fond of him."
+
+"Now listen, child. You shall never see him again."
+
+"I don't see why not," whimpered Minnie.
+
+"And I'm going to telegraph to papa. I wouldn't have the
+responsibility of you another week for the world."
+
+"Now, Kitty, you're horrid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE BARON'S ASSAULTS.
+
+
+On the eventful afternoon when the Baron had effected an entrance into
+the heart of the enemy's country, another caller had come there--one
+equally intent and equally determined, but not quite so aggressive.
+This was the Count Girasole. The same answer was given to him which
+had been given to the Baron, but with far different effect. The Baron
+had carelessly brushed the slight obstacle aside. To the Count it was
+an impenetrable barrier. It was a bitter disappointment, too; for he
+had been filled with the brightest hopes and expectations by the
+reception with which he had met on his last visit. That reception had
+made him believe that they had changed their sentiments and their
+attitude toward him, and that for the future he would be received in
+the same fashion. He had determined, therefore, to make the most of
+this favorable change, and so he at once repeated his call. This time,
+however, his hopes were crushed. What made it worse, he had seen the
+entrance of the Baron and the Reverend Saul, and knew by this that
+instead of being a favored mortal in the eyes of these ladies, he was
+really, in their estimation, placed below these comparative strangers.
+By the language of Lord Hawbury on his previous call, he knew that the
+acquaintance of the Baron with Mrs. Willoughby was but recent.
+
+The disappointment of the Count filled him with rage, and revived all
+his old feelings and plans and projects. The Count was not one who
+could suffer in silence. He was a crafty, wily, subtle, scheming
+Italian, whose fertile brain was full of plans to achieve his desires,
+and who preferred to accomplish his aims by a tortuous path, rather
+than by a straight one. This repulse revived old projects, and he took
+his departure with several little schemes in his mind, some of which,
+at least, were destined to bear fruit afterward.
+
+On the following day the Baron called once more. The ladies in the
+mean time had talked over the situation, but were unable to see what
+they were to do with a man who insisted on forcing his way into their
+house. Their treatment would have been easy enough if it had not been
+for Minnie. She insisted that they should not be unkind to him. He had
+saved her life, she said, and she could not treat him with rudeness.
+Lady Dalrymple was in despair, and Mrs. Willoughby at her wit's end,
+while Ethel, to whom the circumstance was made known, was roused by it
+from her sadness, and tried to remonstrate with Minnie. All her
+efforts, however, were as vain as those of her friends. Minnie could
+not be induced to take any decided stand. She insisted on seeing him
+whenever he called, on the ground that it would be unkind not to.
+
+"And will you insist on seeing Girasole also?" asked Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I don't know. I'm awfully sorry for him," said Minnie.
+
+"Well, then, Captain Kirby will be here next. Of course you will see
+him?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Minnie, resignedly.
+
+"And how long do you think this sort of thing can go on? They'll meet,
+and blood will be shed."
+
+"Oh dear! I'm afraid so."
+
+"Then I'm not going to allow it. I've telegraphed to papa. He'll see
+whether you are going to have your own way or not."
+
+"I'm sure I don't see what dear papa can do."
+
+"He won't let you see those horrid men."
+
+"He won't be cruel enough to lock me up in the house. I do wish he
+would come and take me away. I don't want them. They're all horrid."
+
+[Illustration: "MIN, IT'S ME!"]
+
+"This last one--this Gunn--is the most terrible man I ever saw."
+
+"Oh, Kitty dearest! How _can_ you say so? Why, his rudeness and
+violence are perfectly irresistible. He's charming. He bullies one so
+deliciously."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby at this turned away in despair.
+
+Minnie's very peculiar situation was certainly one which required a
+speedy change. The forced entrance of the Baron had thrown
+consternation into the family. Ethel herself had been roused, and took
+a part in the debate. She began to see Minnie in a new light, and
+Hawbury's attention to her began to assume the appearance of a very
+mournful joke. To her mind Minnie was now the subject of desperate
+attention from five men.
+
+Thus:
+
+1. Lord Hawbury.
+
+2. Count Girasole.
+
+3. Scone Dacres.
+
+4. Baron Atramonte.
+
+5. Captain Kirby, of whom Mrs. Willoughby had just told her.
+
+And of these, four had saved her life, and consequently had the
+strongest possible claims on her.
+
+And the only satisfaction which Ethel could gain out of this was the
+thought that Hawbury, at least, had not saved Minnie's life.
+
+And now to proceed.
+
+The Baron called, as has been said, on the following day. This time he
+did not bring the Reverend Saul with him. He wished to see Minnie
+alone, and felt the presence of third persons to be rather unpleasant.
+
+On reaching the place he was told, as before, that the ladies were not
+at home.
+
+Now the Baron remembered that on the preceding day the servant had
+said the same, while all the time the ladies were home. He was
+charitably inclined to suppose that it was a mistake, and not a
+deliberate lie; and, as he was in a frame of good-will to mankind, he
+adopted this first theory.
+
+"All right, young man," said he; "but as you lied yesterday--under a
+mistake--I prefer seeing for myself to-day."
+
+So the Baron brushed by the servant, and went in. He entered the room.
+No one was there. He waited a little while, and thought. He was too
+impatient to wait long. He could not trust these lying servants. So he
+determined to try for himself. Her room was up stairs, somewhere in
+the story above.
+
+So he went out of the room, and up the stairs, until his head was on a
+level with the floor of the story above. Then he called:
+
+"_Min!_"
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN!" in a louder voice.
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN! it's ME!" still louder.
+
+No answer.
+
+"_MIN!_" a perfect yell.
+
+At this last shout there was a response. One of the doors opened, and
+a lady made her appearance, while at two other doors appeared two
+maids. The lady was young and beautiful, and her face was stern, and
+her dark eyes looked indignantly toward the Baron.
+
+"Who are you?" she asked, abruptly; "and what do you want?"
+
+"Me? I'm the Baron Atramonte; and I want Min. Don't you know where she
+is?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Min."
+
+"Min?" asked the other, in amazement.
+
+"Yes. My Min--Minnie, you know. Minnie Fay."
+
+At this the lady looked at the Baron with utter horror.
+
+"I want her."
+
+"She's not at home," said the lady.
+
+"Well, really, it's too bad. I must see her. Is she out?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Really? Honor bright now?"
+
+The lady retired and shut the door.
+
+"Well, darn it all, you needn't be so peppery," muttered the Baron. "I
+didn't say any thing. I only asked a civil question. Out, hey? Well,
+she must be this time. If she'd been in, she'd have made her
+appearance. Well, I'd best go out and hunt her up. They don't seem to
+me altogether so cordial as I'd like to have them. They're just a
+leetle too 'ristocratic."
+
+With these observations to himself, the Baron descended the stairs,
+and made his way to the door. Here he threw an engaging smile upon the
+servant, and made a remark which set the other on the broad grin for
+the remainder of the day. After this the Baron took his departure.
+
+The Baron this time went to some stables, and reappeared in a short
+time mounted upon a gallant steed, and careering down the Corso. In
+due time he reached the Piazza del Popolo, and then he ascended the
+Pincian Hill. Here he rode about for some time, and finally his
+perseverance was rewarded. He was looking down from the summit of the
+hill upon the Piazza below, when he caught sight of a barouche, in
+which were three ladies. One of these sat on the front seat, and her
+white face and short golden hair seemed to indicate to him the one he
+sought.
+
+In an instant he put spurs to his horse, and rode down the hill as
+quick as possible, to the great alarm of the crowds who were going up
+and down. In a short time he had caught up with the carriage. He was
+right. It was the right one, and Minnie was there, together with Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby. The ladies, on learning of his
+approach, exhibited no emotion. They were prepared for this, and
+resigned. They had determined that Minnie should have no more
+interviews with him indoors; and since they could not imprison her
+altogether, they would have to submit for the present to his advances.
+But they were rapidly becoming desperate.
+
+Lord Hawbury was riding by the carriage as the Baron came up.
+
+"Hallo!" said he to the former. "How do? and _how_ are you all? Why,
+I've been hunting all over creation. Well, Minnie, how goes it? Feel
+lively? That's right. Keep out in the open air. Take all the exercise
+you can, and eat as hard as you can. You live too quiet as a general
+thing, and want to knock around more. But we'll fix all that, won't
+we, Min, before a month of Sundays?"
+
+The advent of the Baron in this manner, and his familiar address to
+Minnie, filled Hawbury with amazement. He had been surprised at
+finding him with the ladies on the previous day, but there was nothing
+in his demeanor which was at all remarkable. Now, however, he noticed
+the very great familiarity of his tone and manner toward Minnie, and
+was naturally amazed. The Baron had not confided to him his secret,
+and he could not understand the cause of such intimacy between the
+representatives of such different classes. He therefore listened with
+inexpressible astonishment to the Baron's language, and to Minnie's
+artless replies.
+
+Minnie was sitting on the front seat of the barouche, and was alone in
+that seat. As the gentlemen rode on each side of the carriage her face
+was turned toward them. Hawbury rode back, so that he was beside Lady
+Dalrymple; but the Baron rode forward, on the other side, so as to
+bring himself as near to Minnie as possible. The Baron was exceedingly
+happy. His happiness showed itself in the flush of his face, in the
+glow of his eyes, and in the general exuberance and all-embracing
+swell of his manner. His voice was loud, his gestures demonstrative,
+and his remarks were addressed by turns to each one in the company.
+The others soon gave up the attempt to talk, and left it all to the
+Baron. Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby exchanged glances of
+despair. Hawbury still looked on in surprise, while Minnie remained
+perfectly calm, perfectly self-possessed, and conversed with her usual
+simplicity.
+
+As the party thus rode on they met a horseman, who threw a rapid
+glance over all of them. It was Girasole. The ladies bowed, and Mrs.
+Willoughby wished that he had come a little before, so that he could
+have taken the place beside the carriage where the Baron now was. But
+the place was now appropriated, and there was no chance for the Count.
+Girasole threw a dark look over them, which rested more particularly
+on Hawbury. Hawbury nodded lightly at the Count, and didn't appear to
+take any further notice of him. All this took up but a few moments,
+and the Count passed on.
+
+Shortly after they met another horseman. He sat erect, pale, sad, with
+a solemn, earnest glow in his melancholy eyes. Minnie's back was
+turned toward him, so that she could not see his face, but his eyes
+were fixed upon Mrs. Willoughby. She looked back at him and bowed, as
+did also Lady Dalrymple. He took off his hat, and the carriage rolled
+past. Then he turned and looked after it, bareheaded, and Minnie
+caught sight of him, and smiled and bowed. And then in a few moments
+more the crowd swallowed up Scone Dacres.
+
+The Baron thus enjoyed himself in a large, exuberant fashion, and
+monopolized the conversation in a large, exuberant way. He outdid
+himself. He confided to the ladies his plans for the regeneration of
+the Roman Church and the Roman State. He told stories of his
+adventures in the Rocky Mountains. He mentioned the state of his
+finances, and his prospects for the future. He was as open, as free,
+and as communicative as if he had been at home, with fond sisters and
+admiring brothers around him. The ladies were disgusted at it all; and
+by the ladies I mean only Mrs. Willoughby and Lady Dalrymple. For
+Minnie was not--she actually listened in delight. It was not
+conventional. Very well. Neither was the Baron. And for that matter,
+neither was she. He was a child of nature. So was she. His rudeness,
+his aggressiveness, his noise, his talkativeness, his egotism, his
+confidences about himself--all these did not make him so very
+disagreeable to her as to her sister and aunt.
+
+So Minnie treated the Baron with the utmost complaisance, and Hawbury
+was surprised, and Mrs. Willoughby and Lady Dalrymple were disgusted;
+but the Baron was delighted, and his soul was filled with perfect joy.
+Too soon for him was this drive over. But the end came, and they
+reached the hotel. Hawbury left them, but the Baron lingered. The spot
+was too sweet, the charm too dear--he could not tear himself away.
+
+In fact, he actually followed the ladies into the house.
+
+"I think I'll just make myself comfortable in here, Min, till you come
+down," said the Baron. And with these words he walked into the
+reception-room, where he selected a place on a sofa, and composed
+himself to wait patiently for Minnie to come down.
+
+So he waited, and waited, and waited--but Minnie did not come. At last
+he grew impatient. He walked out, and up the stairs, and listened.
+
+He heard ladies' voices.
+
+He spoke.
+
+"_Min!_"
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN!" louder.
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN! HALLO-O-O-O!"
+
+No answer.
+
+"_MIN!_" a perfect shout.
+
+At this a door was opened violently, and Mrs. Willoughby walked out.
+Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glanced fire.
+
+"Sir," she said, "this is intolerable! You must be intoxicated. Go
+away at once, or I shall certainly have you turned out of the house."
+
+And saying this she went back, shut the door, and locked it.
+
+The Baron was thunder-struck. He had never been treated so in his
+life. He was cut to the heart. His feelings were deeply wounded.
+
+"Darn it!" he muttered. "What's all this for? I ain't been doing any
+thing."
+
+He walked out very thoughtfully. He couldn't understand it at all. He
+was troubled for some time. But at last his buoyant spirit rose
+superior to this temporary depression. To-morrow would explain all, he
+thought. Yes, to-morrow would make it all right. To-morrow he would
+see Min, and get her to tell him what in thunder the row was. She'd
+have to tell, for he could never find out. So he made up his mind to
+keep his soul in patience.
+
+That evening Hawbury was over at the Baron's quarters, by special
+invitation, and the Baron decided to ask his advice. So in the course
+of the evening, while in the full, easy, and confidential mood that
+arises out of social intercourse, he told Hawbury his whole
+story--beginning with the account of his first meeting with Minnie,
+and his rescue of her, and her acceptance of him, down to this very
+day, when he had been so terribly snubbed by Mrs. Willoughby. To all
+this Hawbury listened in amazement. It was completely new to him. He
+wondered particularly to find another man who had saved the life of
+this quiet, timid little girl.
+
+The Baron asked his advice, but Hawbury declined giving any. He said
+he couldn't advise any man in a love-affair. Every man must trust to
+himself. No one's advice could be of any avail. Hawbury, in fact, was
+puzzled, but he said the best he could. The Baron himself was fully of
+Hawbury's opinion. He swore that it was truth, and declared the man
+that followed another's advice in a love-affair was a "darned fool
+that didn't deserve to win his gal."
+
+There followed a general conversation on things of a different kind.
+The Baron again discoursed on church and state. He then exhibited some
+curiosities. Among other things a skull. He used it to hold his
+tobacco. He declared that it was the skull of an ancient Roman. On the
+inside was a paper pasted there, on which he had written the
+following:
+
+     "Oh, I'm the skull of a Roman bold
+       That fit in the ancient war;
+     From East to West I bore the flag
+       Of S. P. Q. and R.
+
+     "In East and West, and North and South,
+       We made the nations fear us--
+     Both Nebuchadnezzar and Hannibal,
+       And Pharaoh too, and Pyrrhus.
+
+     "We took their statutes from the Greeks,
+       And lots of manuscripts too;
+     We set adrift on his world-wide tramp
+       The original wandering Jew.
+
+     "But at last the beggarly Dutchman came,
+       With his lager and sauerkraut;
+     And wherever that beggarly Dutchman went
+       He made a terrible rout.
+
+     "Wo ist der Deutscher's Vaterland?
+       Is it near the ocean wild?
+     Is it where the feathery palm-trees grow?
+       Not there, not there, my child.
+
+     "But it's somewhere down around the Rhine;
+       And now that Bismarck's come,
+     Down goes Napoleon to the ground,
+       And away goes the Pope from Rome!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"HE SAVED MY LIFE."
+
+
+"I can't bear this any longer!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby. "Here you
+are getting into all sorts of difficulties, each one worse than the
+other. I'm sure I don't see why you should. You're very quiet, Minnie
+dearest, but you have more unpleasant adventures than any person I
+ever heard of. You're run away with on horseback, you're shipwrecked,
+you're swept down a precipice by an avalanche, and you fall into the
+crater of a burning volcano. Every time there is some horrid man who
+saves you, and then proposes. As for you, you accept them all with
+equal readiness, one after another, and what is worse, you won't give
+any of them up. I've asked you explicitly which of them you'll give
+up, and you actually refuse to say. My dear child, what are you
+thinking of? You can't have them all. You can't have any of them. None
+of them are agreeable to your family. They're horrid. What are you
+going to do? Oh, how I wish you had dear mamma to take care of you!
+But she is in a better world. And here is poor dear papa who can't
+come. How shocked he would be if he knew all. What is worst, here is
+that dreadful American savage, who is gradually killing me. He
+certainly will be my death. What _am_ I to do, dear? Can't you
+possibly show a little sense yourself--only a little, dear--and have
+some consideration for your poor sister? Even Ethel worries about you,
+though she has troubles of her own, poor darling; and aunty is really
+quite ill with anxiety. What _are_ we going to do? I know one thing.
+_I'm_ not going to put up with it. My mind is made up. I'll leave Rome
+at once, and go home and tell papa."
+
+"Well, you needn't scold so," said Minnie. "It's my trouble. I can't
+help it. They would come. I'm sure _I_ don't know what to do."
+
+"Well, you needn't be so awfully kind to them all. That's what
+encourages them so. It's no use for me to try to keep them away if you
+make them all so welcome. Now there's that dreadful Italian. I'm
+positive he's going to get up some unpleasant plot. These Italians are
+so very revengeful. And he thinks you're so fond of him, and I'm so
+opposed. And he's right, too. You always act as if you're fond of him,
+and all the rest. As to that terrible American savage, I'm afraid to
+think of him; I positively am."
+
+"Well, you needn't be so awfully unkind to him. He saved my life."
+
+"That's no reason why he should deprive me of mine, which he will do
+if he goes on so much longer."
+
+"You were very, very rude to him, Kitty," said Minnie, severely, "and
+very, very unkind--"
+
+"I intended to be so."
+
+"I really felt like crying, and running out and explaining things."
+
+"I know you did, and ran back and locked the door. Oh, you wretched
+little silly goose, what _am_ I _ever_ to do with such a child as you
+are! You're really not a bit better than a baby."
+
+This conversation took place on the day following the Baron's last
+eventful call. Poor Mrs. Willoughby was driven to desperation, and lay
+awake all night, trying to think of some plan to baffle the enemy, but
+was unsuccessful; and so she tried once more to have some influence
+over Minnie by a remonstrance as sharp as she could give.
+
+"He's an American savage. I believe he's an Indian."
+
+"I'm sure I don't see any thing savage in him. He's as gentle and as
+kind as he can be. And he's so awfully fond of me."
+
+"Think how he burst in here, forcing his way in, and taking possession
+of the house. And then poor dear aunty! Oh, how she _was_ shocked and
+horrified!"
+
+"It's because he is so _awfully_ fond of me, and was so perfectly
+_crazy_ to see me."
+
+"And then, just as I was beginning to persuade him to go away quietly,
+to think of you coming down!"
+
+"Well, I couldn't bear to have him so sad, when he saved my life, and
+so I just thought I'd show myself, so as to put him at ease."
+
+"A pretty way to show yourself--to let a great, horrid man treat you
+so."
+
+"Well, that's what they _all_ do," said Minnie, plaintively. "I'm sure
+_I_ can't help it."
+
+"Oh dear! was there ever such a child! Why, Minnie darling, you must
+know that such things are very, very ill-bred, and very, very
+indelicate and unrefined. And then, think how he came forcing himself
+upon us when we were driving. Couldn't he see that he wasn't wanted?
+No, he's a savage. And then, how he kept giving us all a history of
+his life. Every body could hear him, and people stared so that it was
+really quite shocking."
+
+"Oh, that's because he is so very, very frank. He has none of the
+deceit of society, you know, Kitty darling."
+
+"Deceit of society! I should think not. Only think how he acted
+yesterday--forcing his way in and rushing up stairs. Why, it's
+actually quite frightful. He's like a madman. We will have to keep all
+the doors locked, and send for the police. Why, do you know, Ethel
+says that he was here before, running about and shouting in the same
+way: 'Min!' 'Min!' 'Min!'--that's what the horrid wretch calls you
+--'Min! it's me.' 'Come, Min!'"
+
+At this Minnie burst into a peal of merry, musical laughter, and
+laughed on till the tears came to her eyes. Her sister looked more
+disgusted than ever.
+
+"He's such a boy," said Minnie; "he's just like a boy. He's so _aw_fully
+funny. If I'm a child, he's a big boy, and the awfullest, funniest boy
+I ever saw. And then he's _so_ fond of me. Why, he worships me. Oh,
+it's awfully nice."
+
+"A boy! A beast, you mean--a horrid savage. What _can_ I do? I must
+send for a policeman. I'll certainly have the doors all locked. And
+then we'll all be prisoners."
+
+"Well, then, it'll all be your own fault, for _I_ don't want to have
+any doors locked."
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed her sister.
+
+"Well, I don't. And I think you're very unkind."
+
+"Why, you silly child, he'd come here some day, carry you off, and
+make you marry him."
+
+"Well, I do wish he would," said Minnie, gravely. "I wish somebody
+would, for then it would put a stop to all this worry, and I really
+don't know what else ever will. Do _you_, now, Kitty darling?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby turned away with a gesture of despair.
+
+An hour or two after some letters were brought in, one of which was
+addressed to
+
+  MISS FAY,
+
+    _Poste Restante_,
+
+      _Roma_.
+
+Minnie opened this, and looked over it with a troubled air. Then she
+spoke to her sister, and they both went off to Minnie's room.
+
+"Who do you think this is from?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I don't know! Of course it's some more trouble."
+
+"It's from Captain Kirby."
+
+"Oh, of course! And of course he's here in Rome?"
+
+"No, he isn't."
+
+"What! Not yet?"
+
+"No; but he wrote this from London. He has been to the house, and
+learned that we had gone to Italy. He says he has sent off letters to
+me, directed to every city in Italy, so that I may be sure to get it.
+Isn't that good of him?"
+
+"Well?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, repressing an exclamation of vexation.
+
+"Well, he says that in three days he will leave, and go first to Rome,
+as he thinks we will be most likely to be there this season. And so,
+you see, he's coming on; and he will be here in three days, you know."
+
+"Minnie," said her sister, after some moments' solemn thought.
+
+"Well, Kitty darling?"
+
+"Do you ever think?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Would you like one of these gentlemen of yours to blow one of the
+others' brains out, or stab him, or any thing of that sort?"
+
+"How shocking you are, Kitty dear! What a dreadful question!"
+
+"Well, understand me now. One of them _will_ do that. There will be
+trouble, and your name will be associated with it."
+
+"Well," said Minnie, "I know who _won't_ be shot."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, Rufus K. Gunn," said she, in the funny, prim way in which she
+always pronounced that name. "If he finds it out, he'll drive all the
+others away."
+
+"And would you like that?"
+
+"Well, you know, he's awfully fond of me, and he's so like a boy: and
+if I'm such a child, I could do better with a man, you know, that's
+like a boy, you know, than--than--"
+
+"Nonsense! He's a madman, and you're a simpleton, you little goose."
+
+"Well, then, we must be well suited to one another," said Minnie.
+
+"Now, child, listen," said Mrs. Willoughby, firmly. "I intend to put a
+stop to this. I have made up my mind positively to leave Rome, and
+take you home to papa. I'll tell him all about it, put you under his
+care, and have no more responsibility with you. I think he'd better
+send you back to school. I've been too gentle. You need a firm hand.
+I'll be firm for a few days, till you can go to papa. You need not
+begin to cry. It's for your own good. If you're indulged any more,
+you'll simply go to ruin."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby's tone was different from usual, and Minnie was
+impressed by it. She saw that her sister was resolved. So she stole up
+to her and twined her arms about her and kissed her.
+
+"There, there," said her sister, kissing her again, "don't look so
+sad, Minnie darling. It's for your own good. We must go away, or else
+you'll have another of those dreadful people. You must trust to me
+now, dearest, and not interfere with me in any way."
+
+"Well, well, you mustn't be unkind to poor Rufus K. Gunn," said
+Minnie.
+
+"Unkind? Why, we won't be any thing to him at all."
+
+"And am I never to--to--see him again?"
+
+"No!" said her sister, firmly.
+
+Minnie started, and looked at Mrs. Willoughby, and saw in her face a
+fixed resolution.
+
+"No, never!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby. "I am going to take you back to
+England. I'm afraid to take any railroad or steamboat. I'll hire a
+carriage, and we'll all go in a quiet way to Florence. Then we can
+take the railroad to Leghorn, and go home by the way of Marseilles. No
+one will know that we've gone away. They'll think we have gone on an
+excursion. Now we'll go out driving this morning, and this afternoon
+we must keep the outer door locked, and not let any one in. I suppose
+there is no danger of meeting him in the morning. He must be on duty
+then."
+
+"But mayn't I see him at all before we go?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Just once--only once?"
+
+"No, not once. You've seen that horrid man for the last time."
+
+Minnie again looked at her sister, and again read her resolution in
+her face. She turned away, her head dropped, a sob escaped from her,
+and then she burst into tears.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+JEALOUSY.
+
+
+Lord Hawbury had come to Rome for the sole purpose of watching over
+his friend Scone Dacres. But he had not found it so easy to do so. His
+friend kept by himself more than he used to, and for several days
+Hawbury had seen nothing of him. Once while with the ladies he had met
+him, and noticed the sadness and the gloom of his brow. He saw by this
+that he was still a prey to those feelings the exhibition of which had
+alarmed him at Naples, and made him resolve to accompany him here.
+
+A few days afterward, while Hawbury was in his room, his friend
+entered. Hawbury arose and greeted him with unfeigned joy.
+
+"Well, old man," he said, "you've kept yourself close, too. What have
+you been doing with yourself? I've only had one glimpse of you for an
+age. Doing Rome, hey? Antiquities, arts, churches, palaces, and all
+that sort of thing, I suppose. Come now, old boy, sit down and give an
+account of yourself. Have a weed? Here's Bass in prime order. Light
+up, my dear fellow, and let me look at you as you compose your manly
+form for a friendly smoke. And don't speak till you feel inclined."
+
+Dacres took his seat with a melancholy smile, and selecting a cigar,
+lighted it, and smoked in silence for some time.
+
+"Who was that Zouave fellow?" he asked at length: "the fellow that I
+saw riding by the carriage the other day?"
+
+"That--oh, an old friend of mine. He's an American named Gunn. He's
+joined the Papal Zouaves from some whim, and a deuced good thing it is
+for them to get hold of such a man. I happened to call one day, and
+found him with the ladies."
+
+"The ladies--ah!" and Dacres's eyes lighted up with a bad, hard light.
+"I suppose he's another of those precious cavaliers--the scum of all
+lands--that dance attendance on my charming wife."
+
+"Oh, see here now, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "none of
+that, you know. This fellow is a friend of _mine_, and one of the best
+fellows I ever saw. You'd like him, old chap. He'd suit you."
+
+"Yes, and suit my wife better," said Dacres, bitterly.
+
+"Oh, come now, really, my dear boy, you're completely out. He don't
+know your wife at all. It's the other one, you know. Don't be jealous,
+now, if I tell you."
+
+"Jealous!"
+
+"Yes. I know your weakness, you know; but this is an old affair. I
+don't want to violate confidence, but--"
+
+Dacres looked hard at his friend and breathed heavily. He was
+evidently much excited.
+
+"But what?" he said, hoarsely.
+
+"Well, you know, it's an old affair. It's the young one, you
+know--Miss Fay. He rather affects her, you know. That's about it."
+
+"Miss Fay?"
+
+"Yes; your child-angel, you know. But it's an older affair than yours;
+it is, really; so don't be giving way, man. Besides, his claims on her
+are as great as yours; yes, greater too. By Jove!"
+
+"Miss Fay! Oh, is that all?" said Dacres, who, with a sigh of infinite
+relief, shook off all his late excitement, and became cool once more.
+
+Hawbury noted this very thoughtfully.
+
+"You see," said Dacres, "that terrible wife of mine is so cursedly
+beautiful and fascinating, and so infernally fond of admiration, that
+she keeps no end of fellows tagging at her heels. And so I didn't know
+but that this was some new admirer. Oh, she's a deep one! Her new
+style, which she has been cultivating for ten years, has made her look
+like an angel of light. Why, there's the very light of heaven in her
+eyes, and in her face there is nothing, I swear, but gentleness and
+purity and peace. Oh, had she but been what she now seems! Oh, if even
+now I could but believe this, I would even now fling my memories to
+the winds, and I'd lie down in the dust and let her trample on me, if
+she would only give me that tender and gentle love that now lurks in
+her face. Good Heavens! can such a change be possible? No; it's
+impossible! It can't be! Don't I know her? Can't I remember her? Is my
+memory all a dream? No, it's real; and it's marked deep by this scar
+that I wear. Never till that scar is obliterated can that woman
+change."
+
+Dacres had been speaking, as he often did now, half to himself; and as
+he ended he rubbed his hand over the place where the scar lay, as
+though to soothe the inflammation that arose from the rush of angry
+blood to his head.
+
+"Well, dear boy, I can only say I wish from my heart that her nature
+was like her face. She's no favorite of mine, for your story has made
+me look on her with your eyes, and I never have spoken to her except
+in the most distant way; but I must say I think her face has in it a
+good deal of that gentleness which you mention. Miss Fay treats her
+quite like an elder sister, and is deuced fond of her, too. I can see
+that. So she can't be very fiendish to her. Like loves like, you know,
+and the one that the child-angel loves ought to be a little of an
+angel herself, oughtn't she?"
+
+Dacres was silent for a long time.
+
+"There's that confounded Italian," said he, "dangling forever at her
+heels--the devil that saved her life. He must be her accepted lover,
+you know. He goes out riding beside the carriage."
+
+"Well, really, my dear fellow, she doesn't seem overjoyed by his
+attentions."
+
+"Oh, that's her art. She's so infernally deep. Do you think she'd let
+the world see her feelings? Never. Slimy, Sir, and cold and subtle and
+venomous and treacherous--a beautiful serpent. Aha! isn't that the way
+to hit her off? Yes, a beautiful, malignant, venomous serpent, with
+fascination in her eyes, and death and anguish in her bite. But she
+shall find out yet that others are not without power. Confound her!"
+
+"Well, now, by Jove! old boy, I think the very best thing you can do
+is to go away somewhere, and get rid of these troubles."
+
+"Go away! Can I go away from my own thoughts? Hawbury, the trouble is
+in my own heart. I must keep near her. There's that Italian devil. He
+shall not have her. I'll watch them, as I have watched them, till I
+find a chance for revenge."
+
+"You have watched them, then?" asked Hawbury, in great surprise.
+
+"Yes, both of them. I've seen the Italian prowling about where she
+lives. I've seen her on her balcony, evidently watching for him."
+
+"But have you seen any thing more? This is only your fancy."
+
+"Fancy! Didn't I see her herself standing on the balcony looking down.
+I was concealed by the shadow of a fountain, and she couldn't see me.
+She turned her face, and I saw it in that soft, sweet, gentle beauty
+which she has cultivated so wonderfully. I swear it seemed like the
+face of an angel, and I could have worshiped it. If she could have
+seen my face in that thick shadow she would have thought I was an
+adorer of hers, like the Italian--ha, ha!--instead of a pursuer, and
+an enemy."
+
+"Well, I'll be hanged if I can tell myself which you are, old boy;
+but, at any rate, I'm glad to be able to state that your trouble will
+soon be over."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"She's going away."
+
+"Going away!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She! going away! where?"
+
+"Back to England."
+
+"Back to England! why, she's just come here. What's that for?"
+
+"I don't know. I only know they're all going home. Well, you know,
+holy week's over, and there is no object for them to stay longer."
+
+"Going away! going away!" replied Dacres, slowly. "Who told you?"
+
+"Miss Fay."
+
+"Oh, I don't believe it."
+
+"There's no doubt about it, my dear boy. Miss Fay told me explicitly.
+She said they were going in a carriage by the way of Civita
+Castellana."
+
+"What are they going that way for? What nonsense! I don't believe it."
+
+"Oh, it's a fact. Besides, they evidently don't want it to be known."
+
+"What's that?" asked Dacres, eagerly.
+
+"I say they don't seem to want it to be known. Miss Fay told me in her
+childish way, and I saw that Mrs. Willoughby looked vexed, and tried
+to stop her."
+
+"Tried to stop her! Ah! Who were there? Were you calling?"
+
+"Oh no--it was yesterday morning. I was riding, and, to my surprise,
+met them. They were driving--Mrs. Willoughby and Miss Fay, you
+know--so I chatted with them a few moments, or rather with Miss Fay,
+and hoped I would see them again soon, at some _fête_ or other, when
+she told me this."
+
+"And my wife tried to stop her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And looked vexed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then it was some secret of _hers_. _She_ has some reason for keeping
+dark. The other has none. Aha! don't I understand her? She wants to
+keep it from _me_. She knows you're my friend, and was vexed that you
+should know. Aha! she dreads my presence. She knows I'm on her track.
+She wants to get away with her Italian--away from my sight. Aha! the
+tables are turned at last. Aha! my lady. Now we'll see. Now take your
+Italian and fly, and see how far you can get away from me. Take him,
+and see if you can hold him. Aha! my angel face, my mild, soft eyes of
+love, but devil's heart--can not I understand it all? I see through
+it. I've watched, you. Wait till you see Scone Dacres on your track!"
+
+"What's that? You don't really mean it?" cried Hawbury.
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"Will you follow her?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"What for? For a vague fancy of your jealous mind?"
+
+"It isn't a fancy; it's a certainty. I've seen the Italian dogging
+her, dodging about her house, and riding with her. I've seen her
+looking very much as if she were expecting him at her balcony. Is all
+that nothing? She's seen me, and feels conscience-stricken, and longs
+to get away where she may be free from the terror of my presence. But
+I'll track her. I'll strike at her--at her heart, too; for I will
+strike through the Italian."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"I will, I swear!" cried Dacres, gloomily.
+
+"You're mad, Dacres. You imagine all this. You're like a madman in a
+dream."
+
+"It's no dream. I'll follow her. I'll track her."
+
+"Then, by Jove, you'll have to take me with you, old boy! I see you're
+not fit to take care of yourself. I'll have to go and keep you from
+harm."
+
+"You won't keep me from harm, old chap," said Dacres, more gently;
+"but I'd be glad if you would go. So come along."
+
+"I will, by Jove!"
+
+[Illustration: "I WATCHED HIM."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE BARON'S WOES.
+
+
+Dacres was not the only excited visitor that Hawbury had that day.
+Before its close another made his appearance in the person of the
+Baron.
+
+"Well, my noble friend," cried Hawbury--"my Baron bold--how goes it?
+But, by Jove! what's the matter, my boy? Your brow deep scars of
+thunder have intrenched, and care sits on your faded cheek. Pour forth
+the mournful tale. I'll sympathize."
+
+"I swear it's too almighty bad!" cried the Baron.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The way I'm getting humbugged."
+
+"Humbugged! Who's been humbugging you?"
+
+"Darn me if I know; and that's the worst of it by a thundering sight."
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, if I can help you, you'd better let me know
+what it's all about."
+
+"Why, Minnie; that's the row. There ain't another thing on this green
+earth that would trouble me for five seconds."
+
+"Minnie? Oh! And what has happened--a lover's quarrel?"
+
+"Not a quarrel. _She's_ all right."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Why, she's disappeared."
+
+"Disappeared! What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Darn me if I know. I only know this, that they keep their place
+bolted and barred, and they've muffled the bell, and there's no
+servant to be seen, and I can't find out any thing about them. And
+it's too almighty bad. Now isn't it?"
+
+"It's deuced odd, too--queer, by Jove! I don't understand. Are you
+sure they're all locked up?"
+
+"Course I am."
+
+"And no servants?"
+
+"Not a darned servant."
+
+"Did you ask the concierge?"
+
+"Course I did; and crossed his palm, too. But he didn't give me any
+satisfaction."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"Why, he said they were at home, for they had been out in the morning,
+and had got back again. Well, after that I went back and nearly
+knocked the door down. And that was no good; I didn't get a word. The
+concierge swore they were in, and they wouldn't so much as answer me.
+Now I call that too almighty hard, and I'd like to know what in
+thunder they all mean by it."
+
+"By Jove! odd, too."
+
+"Well, you know, I thought after a while that it would be all
+explained the next day; so I went home and waited, and came back the
+next afternoon. I tried it over again. Same result. I spoke to the
+concierge again, and he swore again that they were all in. They had
+been out in the morning, he said, and looked well. They had come home
+by noon, and had gone to their rooms. Well, I really did start the
+door that time, but didn't get any answer for my pains."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, I was pretty hard up, I tell you. But I wasn't going to give
+up. So I staid there, and began a siege. I crossed the concierge's
+palm again, and was in and out all night. Toward morning I took a nap
+in his chair. He thought it was some government business or other, and
+assisted me all he could. I didn't see any thing at all though, except
+an infernal Italian--a fellow that came calling the first day I was
+there, and worked himself in between me and Min. He was prowling about
+there, with another fellow, and stared hard at me. I watched him, and
+said nothing, for I wanted to find out his little game. He's up to
+something, I swear. When he saw I was on the ground, though, he beat a
+retreat.
+
+"Well, I staid all night, and the next morning watched again. I didn't
+knock. It wasn't a bit of use--not a darned bit.
+
+"Well, about nine o'clock the door opened, and I saw some one looking
+out very cautiously. In a minute I was standing before her, and held
+out my hand to shake hers. It was the old lady. But she didn't shake
+hands. She looked at me quite coolly.
+
+"'Good-morning, ma'am,' said I, in quite a winning voice.
+'Good-morning, ma'am.'
+
+"'Good-morning,' she said.
+
+"'I come to see Minnie,' said I.
+
+"'To see Minnie!' said she: and then she told me she wasn't up.
+
+"'Ain't up?' said I; 'and it so bright and early! Why, what's got her?
+Well, you just go and tell her _I'm_ here, and I'll just step inside
+and wait till she comes down,' said I.
+
+"But the old lady didn't budge.
+
+"'I'm not a servant,' she said, very stiff; 'I'm her aunt, and her
+guardian, and I allow no messages to pass between her and strange
+gentlemen.'
+
+"'Strange gentlemen!' I cried. 'Why, ain't I engaged to her?'
+
+"'I don't know you,' says she.
+
+"'Wasn't I introduced to you?' says I.
+
+"'No,' says she; 'I don't know you.'
+
+[Illustration: "BUT I SAVED HER LIFE."]
+
+"'But I'm engaged to Minnie,' says I.
+
+"'I don't recognize you,' says she. 'The family know nothing about
+you; and my niece is a silly girl, who is going back to her father,
+who will probably send her to school.'
+
+"'But I saved her life,' says I.
+
+"'That's very possible,' says she; 'many persons have done so; yet
+that gives you no right to annoy her; and you shall _not_ annoy her.
+Your engagement is an absurdity. The child herself is an absurdity.
+_You_ are an absurdity. Was it not you who was creating such a
+frightful disturbance here yesterday? Let me inform you, Sir, that if
+you repeat it, you will be handed over to the police. The police would
+certainly have been called yesterday had we not wished to avoid
+hurting your feelings. We now find that you have no feelings to hurt.'
+
+"'Very well, ma'am,' says I; 'these are your views; but as you are not
+Minnie, I don't accept them. I won't retire from the field till I hear
+a command to that effect from Minnie herself. I allow no relatives to
+stand between me and my love. Show me Minnie, and let me hear what she
+has to say. That's all I ask, and that's fair and square.'
+
+"'You shall not see her at all,' says the old lady, quite mild; 'not
+at all. You must not come again, for you will not be admitted. Police
+will be here to put you out if you attempt to force an entrance as you
+did before.'
+
+"'Force an entrance!' I cried.
+
+"'Yes,' she said, 'force an entrance. You did so, and you filled the
+whole house with your shouts. Is that to be borne? Not by us, Sir. And
+now go, and don't disturb us any more.'
+
+"Well, I'll be darned if I ever felt so cut up in my life. The old
+lady was perfectly calm and cool; wasn't a bit scared--though there
+was no reason why she should be. She just gave it to me that way. But
+when she accused me of forcing an entrance and kicking up a row, I was
+struck all of a heap and couldn't say a word. _Me_ force an entrance!
+_Me_ kick up a row! And in Minnie's house! Why, the old woman's mad!
+
+"Well, the old lady shut the door in my face, and I walked off; and
+I've been ever since trying to understand it, but I'll be darned if I
+can make head or tail of it. The only thing I see is that they're all
+keeping Minnie locked up away from me. They don't like me, though why
+they don't I can't see; for I'm as good as any body, and I've been
+particular about being civil to all of them. Still they don't like me,
+and they see that Minnie does, and they're trying to break up the
+engagement. But by the living jingo!" and the Baron clinched a
+good-sized and very sinewy fist, which he brought down hard on the
+table--"by the living jingo, they'll find they can't come it over
+_me_! No, _Sir_!"
+
+"Is she fond of you--Miss Fay, I mean?"
+
+"Fond! Course she is. She dotes on me."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Sure! As sure as I am of my own existence. Why, the way she looks at
+me is enough! She has a look of helpless trust, an innocent
+confidence, a tender, child-like faith and love, and a beseeching,
+pleading, imploring way that tells me she is mine through and
+through."
+
+Hawbury was a little surprised. He thought he had heard something like
+that before.
+
+"Oh, well," said he, "that's the chief thing, you know. If you're sure
+of the girl's affections, the battle's half won."
+
+"Half won! Ain't it all won?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. You see, with us English, there are ever so many
+considerations."
+
+"But with us Americans there is only one consideration, and that is,
+Do you love me? Still, if her relatives are particular about dollars,
+I can foot up as many thousands as her old man, I dare say; and then,
+if they care for rank, why, I'm a Baron!"
+
+"And what's more, old boy," said Hawbury, earnestly, "if they wanted a
+valiant, stout, true, honest, loyal soul, they needn't go further than
+Rufus K. Gunn, Baron de Atramonte."
+
+The Baron's face flushed.
+
+"Hawbury," said he, "that's good in you. We've tried one another,
+haven't we? You're a brick! And I don't need _you_ to tell _me_ what
+you think of me. But if you could get a word into the ear of that
+cantankerous old lady, and just let her know what _you_ know about me,
+it might move her. You see you're after her style, and I'm not; and
+she can't see any thing but a man's manner, which, after all, varies
+in all countries. Now if you could speak a word for me, Hawbury--"
+
+"By Jove! my dear fellow, I'd be glad to do so--I swear I would; but
+you don't appear to know that I won't have the chance. They're all
+going to leave Rome to-morrow morning."
+
+The Baron started as though he had been shot.
+
+"What!" he cried, hoarsely. "What's that? Leave Rome?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes; Miss Fay told me herself--"
+
+"Miss Fay told you herself! By Heaven! What do they mean by that?" And
+the Baron sat trembling with excitement.
+
+"Well, the holy week's over."
+
+"Darn it all, that's got nothing to do with it! It's me! They're
+trying to get her from me! How are they going? Do you know?"
+
+"They are going in a carriage by the way of Civita Castellana."
+
+"In a carriage by the way of Civita Castellana! Darn that old idiot of
+a woman! what's she up to now? If she's running away from me, she'll
+wish herself back before she gets far on that road. Why, there's an
+infernal nest of brigands there that call themselves Garibaldians;
+and, by thunder, the woman's crazy! They'll be seized and held to
+ransom--perhaps worse. Heavens! I'll go mad! I'll run and tell them.
+But no; they won't see me. What'll I do? And Minnie! I can't give her
+up. She can't give me up. She's a poor, trembling little creature; her
+whole life hangs on mine. Separation from me would kill her. Poor
+little girl! Separation! By thunder, they shall never separate us!
+What devil makes the old woman go by that infernal road? Brigands all
+the way! But I'll go after them; I'll follow them. They'll find it
+almighty hard work to keep her from me! I'll see her, by thunder! and
+I'll get her out of their clutches! I swear I will! I'll bring her
+back here to Rome, and I'll get the Pope himself to bind her to me
+with a knot that all the old women under heaven can never loosen!"
+
+"What! You're going? By Jove! that's odd, for I'm going with a friend
+on the same road."
+
+"Good again! Three cheers! And you'll see the old woman, and speak a
+good word for me?"
+
+"If I see her and get a chance, I certainly will, by Jove!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+AN EVENTFUL JOURNEY.
+
+
+On the day following two carriages rolled out of Rome, and took the
+road toward Florence by the way of Civita Castellana. One carriage
+held four ladies; the other one was occupied by four lady's-maids and
+the luggage of the party.
+
+It was early morning, and over the wide Campagna there still hung
+mists, which were dissipated gradually as the sun arose. As they went
+on the day advanced, and with the departing mists there opened up a
+wide view. On either side extended the desolate Campagna, over which
+passed lines of ruined aqueducts on their way from the hills to the
+city. Here and there crumbling ruins arose above the plain--some
+ancient, others medieval, none modern. Before them, in the distance,
+arose the Apennines, among which were, here and there, visible the
+white outlines of some villa or hamlet.
+
+For mile after mile they drove on; and the drive soon proved very
+monotonous. It was nothing but one long and unvarying plain, with this
+only change, that every mile brought them nearer to the mountains. As
+the mountains were their only hope, they all looked forward eagerly to
+the time when they would arrive there and wind along the road among
+them.
+
+Formerly Mrs. Willoughby alone had been the confidante of Minnie's
+secret, but the events of the past few days had disclosed most of her
+troubles to the other ladies also, at least as far as the general
+outlines were concerned. The consequence was, that they all knew
+perfectly well the reason why they were traveling in this way, and
+Minnie knew that they all knew it. Yet this unpleasant consciousness
+did not in the least interfere with the sweetness of her temper and
+the gentleness of her manner. She sat there, with a meek smile and a
+resigned air, as though the only part now left her in life was the
+patient endurance of her unmerited wrongs. She blamed no one; she made
+no complaint; yet there was in her attitude something so touching, so
+clinging, so pathetic, so forlorn, and in her face something so sweet,
+so sad, so reproachful, and so piteous, that she enforced sympathy;
+and each one began to have a half-guilty fear that Minnie had been
+wronged by her. Especially did Mrs. Willoughby feel this. She feared
+that she had neglected the artless and simple-minded child; she feared
+that she had not been sufficiently thoughtful about her; and now
+longed to do something to make amends for this imaginary neglect. So
+she sought to make the journey as pleasant as possible by cheerful
+remarks and lively observations. None of these things, however,
+produced any effect upon the attitude of Minnie. She sat there, with
+unalterable sweetness and unvarying patience, just like a holy martyr,
+who freely forgave all her enemies, and was praying for those who had
+despitefully used her.
+
+[Illustration: THE PROCESSION ACROSS THE CAMPAGNA.]
+
+The exciting events consequent upon the Baron's appearance, and his
+sudden revelation in the role of Minnie's lover, had exercised a
+strong and varied effect upon all; but upon one its result was wholly
+beneficial, and this was Ethel. It was so startling and so unexpected
+that it had roused her from her gloom, and given her something to
+think of. The Baron's debut in their parlor had been narrated to her
+over and over by each of the three who had witnessed it, and each gave
+the narrative her own coloring. Lady Dalrymple's account was humorous;
+Mrs. Willoughby's indignant; Minnie's sentimental. Out of all these
+Ethel gained a fourth idea, compounded of these three, which again
+blended with another, and an original one of her own, gained from a
+personal observation of the Baron, whose appearance on the stairs and
+impatient summons for "Min" were very vividly impressed on her memory.
+In addition to this there was the memory of that day on which they
+endeavored to fight off the enemy.
+
+That was, indeed, a memorable day, and was now alluded to by them all
+as the day of the siege. It was not without difficulty that they had
+withstood Minnie's earnest protestations, and intrenched themselves.
+But Mrs. Willoughby was obdurate, and Minnie's tears, which flowed
+freely, were unavailing.
+
+Then there came the first knock of the impatient and aggressive
+visitor, followed by others in swift succession, and in
+ever-increasing power. Every knock went to Minnie's heart. It excited
+an unlimited amount of sympathy for the one who had saved her life,
+and was now excluded from her door. But as the knocks grew violent and
+imperative, and Minnie grew sad and pitiful, the other ladies grew
+indignant. Lady Dalrymple was on the point of sending off for the
+police, and only Minnie's frantic entreaties prevented this. At last
+the door seemed almost beaten in, and their feelings underwent a
+change. They were convinced that he was mad, or else intoxicated. Of
+the madness of love they did not think. Once convinced that he was
+mad, they became terrified. The maids all hid themselves. None of them
+now would venture out even to call the police. They expected that the
+concierge would interpose, but in vain. The concierge was bribed.
+
+After a very eventful day night came. They heard footsteps pacing up
+and down, and knew that it was their tormentor. Minnie's heart again
+melted with tender pity for the man whose love for her had turned his
+head, and she begged to be allowed to speak to him. But this was not
+permitted. So she went to bed and fell asleep. So, in process of time,
+did the others, and the night passed without any trouble. Then morning
+came, and there was a debate as to who should confront the enemy.
+There was no noise, but they knew that he was there. At last Lady
+Dalrymple summoned up her energies, and went forth to do battle. The
+result has already been described in the words of the bold Baron
+himself.
+
+But even this great victory did not reassure the ladies. Dreading
+another visit, they hurried away to a hotel, leaving the maids to
+follow with the luggage as soon as possible. On the following morning
+they had left the city.
+
+Events so very exciting as these had produced a very natural effect
+upon the mind of Ethel. They had thrown her thoughts out of their old
+groove, and fixed them in a new one. Besides, the fact that she was
+actually leaving the man who had caused her so much sorrow was already
+a partial relief. She had dreaded meeting him so much that she had
+been forced to keep herself a prisoner. A deep grief still remained in
+her heart; but, at any rate, there was now some pleasure to be felt,
+if only of a superficial kind.
+
+As for Mrs. Willoughby, in spite of her self-reproach about her purely
+imaginary neglect of Minnie, she felt such an extraordinary relief
+that it affected all her nature. The others might feel fatigue from
+the journey. Not she. She was willing to continue the journey for an
+indefinite period, so long as she had the sweet consciousness that she
+was bearing Minnie farther and farther away from the grasp of "that
+horrid man." The consequence was, that she was lively, lovely,
+brilliant, cheerful, and altogether delightful. She was as tender to
+Minnie as a mother could be. She was lavish in her promises of what
+she would do for her. She chatted gayly with Ethel about a thousand
+things, and was delighted to find that Ethel reciprocated. She rallied
+Lady Dalrymple on her silence, and congratulated her over and over, in
+spite of Minnie's frowns, on the success of her generalship. And so at
+last the weary Campagna was traversed, and the two carriages began to
+ascend among the mountains.
+
+Several other travelers were passing over that Campagna road, and in
+the same direction. They were not near enough for their faces to be
+discerned, but the ladies could look back and see the signs of their
+presence. First there was a carriage with two men, and about two miles
+behind another carriage with two other men; while behind these, again,
+there rode a solitary horseman, who was gradually gaining on the other
+travelers.
+
+Now, if it had been possible for Mrs. Willoughby to look back and
+discern the faces of the travelers who were moving along the road
+behind her, what a sudden overturn there would have been in her
+feelings, and what a blight would have fallen upon her spirits! But
+Mrs. Willoughby remained in the most blissful ignorance of the persons
+of these travelers, and so was able to maintain the sunshine of her
+soul.
+
+At length there came over that sunny soul the first cloud.
+
+The solitary horseman, who had been riding behind, had overtaken the
+different carriages.
+
+The first carriage contained Lord Hawbury and Scone Dacres. As the
+horseman passed, he recognized them with a careless nod and smile.
+
+Scone Dacres grasped Lord Hawbury's arm.
+
+"Did you see him?" he cried. "The Italian! I thought so! What do you
+say now? Wasn't I right?"
+
+"By Jove!" cried Lord Hawbury.
+
+Whereupon Dacres relapsed into silence, sitting upright, glaring after
+the horseman, cherishing in his gloomy soul the darkest and most
+vengeful thoughts.
+
+The horseman rode on further, and overtook the next carriage. In this
+there were two men, one in the uniform of the Papal Zouaves, the other
+in rusty black. He turned toward these, and greeted them with the same
+nod and smile.
+
+"Do you see that man, parson?" said the Baron to his companion. "Do
+you recognize him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, you saw him at Minnie's house. He came in."
+
+"No, he didn't."
+
+"Didn't he? No. By thunder, it wasn't that time. Well, at any rate,
+that man, I believe, is at the bottom of the row. It's my belief that
+he's trying to cut me out, and he'll find he's got a hard row to hoe
+before he succeeds in that project."
+
+And with these words the Baron sat glaring after the Italian, with
+something in his eye that resembled faintly the fierce glance of Scone
+Dacres.
+
+The Italian rode on. A few miles further were the two carriages.
+Minnie and her sister were sitting on the front seats, and saw the
+stranger as he advanced. He soon came near enough to be distinguished,
+and Mrs. Willoughby recognized Girasole.
+
+Her surprise was so great that she uttered an exclamation of terror,
+which startled the other ladies, and made them all look in that
+direction.
+
+"How very odd!" said Ethel, thoughtfully.
+
+"And now I suppose you'll all go and say that I brought _him_ too,"
+said Minnie. "That's _always_ the way you do. You _never_ seem to
+think that I may be innocent. You _always_ blame me for every little
+mite of a thing that may happen."
+
+No one made any remark, and there was silence in the carriage as the
+stranger approached. The ladies bowed somewhat coolly, except Minnie,
+who threw upon him the most imploring look that could possibly be sent
+from human eyes, and the Italian's impressible nature thrilled before
+those beseeching, pleading, earnest, unfathomable, tender, helpless,
+innocent orbs. Removing his hat, he bowed low.
+
+"I haf not been awara," he said, politely, in his broken English,
+"that youar ladysippa's bin intend to travalla. Ees eet not subito
+intenzion?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby made a polite response of a general character, the
+Italian paused a moment to drink in deep draughts from Minnie's great
+beseeching eyes that were fixed upon his, and then, with a low bow, he
+passed on.
+
+"I believe I'm losing my senses," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Why, Kitty darling?" asked Minnie.
+
+"I don't know how it is, but I actually trembled when that man came
+up, and I haven't got over it yet."
+
+"I'm sure I don't see why," said Minnie. "You're _always_ imagining
+things, though. Now _isn't_ she, Ethel dearest?"
+
+"Well, really, I don't see much in the Count to make one tremble. I
+suppose poor dear Kitty has been too much agitated lately, and it's
+her poor nerves."
+
+"I have my lavender, Kitty dear," said Lady Dalrymple. "Won't you take
+it? Or would you prefer valerian?"
+
+"Thanks, much, but I do not need it," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I suppose
+it will pass off."
+
+"I'm sure the poor Count never did any body any harm," said Minnie,
+plaintively; "so you needn't all abuse him so--unless you're all angry
+at him for saving my life. I remember a time when you all thought very
+differently, and all praised him up, no end."
+
+"Really, Minnie darling, I have nothing against the Count, only once
+he was a little too intrusive; but he seems to have got over that; and
+if he'll only be nice and quiet and proper, I'm sure I've nothing to
+say against him."
+
+They drove on for some time, and at length reached Civita Castellana.
+Here they drove up to the hotel, and the ladies got out and went up to
+their apartments. They had three rooms up stairs, two of which looked
+out into the street, while the third was in the rear. At the front
+windows was a balcony.
+
+The ladies now disrobed themselves, and their maids assisted them to
+perform the duties of a very simple toilet. Mrs. Willoughby's was
+first finished. So she walked over to the window, and looked out into
+the street.
+
+It was not a very interesting place, nor was there much to be seen;
+but she took a lazy, languid interest in the sight which met her eyes.
+There were the two carriages. The horses were being led to water.
+Around the carriages was a motley crowd, composed of the poor, the
+maimed, the halt, the blind, forming that realm of beggars which from
+immemorial ages has flourished in Italy. With these was intermingled a
+crowd of ducks, geese, goats, pigs, and ill-looking, mangy, snarling
+curs.
+
+Upon these Mrs. Willoughby looked for some time, when at length her
+ears were arrested by the roll of wheels down the street. A carriage
+was approaching, in which there were two travelers. One hasty glance
+sufficed, and she turned her attention once more to the ducks, geese,
+goats, dogs, and beggars. In a few minutes the crowd was scattered by
+the newly-arrived carriage. It stopped. A man jumped out. For a moment
+he looked up, staring hard at the windows. That moment was enough.
+Mrs. Willoughby had recognized him.
+
+She rushed away from the windows. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel were in
+this room, and Minnie in the one beyond. All were startled by Mrs.
+Willoughby's exclamation, and still more by her looks.
+
+"Oh!" she cried.
+
+"What?" cried they. "What is it?"
+
+"_He's_ there! _He's_ there!"
+
+"Who? who?" they cried, in alarm.
+
+"That horrid man!"
+
+Lady Dalrymple and Ethel looked at one another in utter horror.
+
+As for Minnie, she burst into the room, peeped out of the windows, saw
+"that horrid man," then ran back, then sat down, then jumped up, and
+then burst into a peal of the merriest laughter that ever was heard
+from her.
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ glad! I'm _so_ glad!" she exclaimed. "Oh, it's so
+_aw_fully funny. Oh, I'm _so_ glad! Oh, Kitty darling, don't, please
+don't, look so cross. Oh, ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ase don't, Kitty darling.
+You make me laugh worse. It's so _aw_fully funny!"
+
+But while Minnie laughed thus, the others looked at each other in
+still greater consternation, and for some time there was not one of
+them who knew what to say.
+
+But Lady Dalrymple again threw herself in the gap.
+
+"You need not feel at all nervous, my dears," said she, gravely. "I do
+not think that this person can give us any trouble. He certainly can
+not intrude upon us in these apartments, and on the highway, you know,
+it will be quite as difficult for him to hold any communication with
+us. So I really don't see any cause for alarm on your part, nor do I
+see why dear Minnie should exhibit such delight."
+
+These words brought comfort to Ethel and Mrs. Willoughby. They at once
+perceived their truth. To force himself into their presence in a
+public hotel was, of course, impossible, even for one so reckless as
+he seemed to be; and on the road he could not trouble them in any way,
+since he would have to drive before them or behind them.
+
+At Lady Dalrymple's reference to herself, Minnie looked up with a
+bright smile.
+
+"You're awfully cross with me, aunty darling," she said; "but I
+forgive you. Only I can't help laughing, you know, to see how
+frightened you all are at poor Rufus K. Gunn. And, Kitty dearest, oh
+how you _did_ run away from the window! It was awfully funny, you
+know."
+
+Not long after the arrival of the Baron and his friends another
+carriage drove up. None of the ladies were at the window, and so they
+did not see the easy nonchalance of Hawbury as he lounged into the
+house, or the stern face of Scone Dacres as he strode before him.
+
+[Illustration: "AS FOR DANGAIRE--POUF! DERE IS NONE."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+ADVICE REJECTED.
+
+
+During dinner the ladies conversed freely about "that horrid man,"
+wondering what plan he would adopt to try to effect an entrance among
+them. They were convinced that some such attempt would be made, and
+the servants of the inn who waited on them were strictly charged to
+see that no one disturbed them. However, their dinner was not
+interrupted and after it was over they began to think of retiring, so
+as to leave at an early hour on the following morning. Minnie had
+already taken her departure, and the others were thinking of following
+her example, when a knock came at the door.
+
+All started. One of the maids went to the door, and found a servant
+there who brought a message from the Baron Atramonte. He wished to
+speak to the ladies on business of the most urgent importance. At this
+confirmation of their expectations the ladies looked at one another
+with a smile mingled with vexation, and Lady Dalrymple at once sent
+word that they could not possibly see him.
+
+But the Baron was not to be put off. In a few moments the servant came
+back again, and brought another message, of a still more urgent
+character, in which the Baron entreated them to grant him this
+interview, and assured them that it was a matter of life and death.
+
+"He's beginning to be more and more violent," said Lady Dalrymple.
+"Well, dears," she added, resignedly, "in my opinion it will be better
+to see him, and have done with him. If we do not, I'm afraid he will
+pester us further. I will see him. You had better retire to your own
+apartments."
+
+Upon this she sent down an invitation to the Baron to come up, and the
+ladies retreated to their rooms.
+
+The Baron entered, and, as usual, offered to shake hands--an offer
+which, as usual, Lady Dalrymple did not accept. He then looked
+earnestly all round the room, and gave a sigh. He evidently had
+expected to see Minnie, and was disappointed. Lady Dalrymple marked
+the glance, and the expression which followed.
+
+"Well, ma'am," said he, as he seated himself near to Lady Dalrymple,
+"I said that the business I wanted to speak about was important, and
+that it was a matter of life and death. I assure you that it is. But
+before I tell it I want to say something about the row in Rome. I have
+reason to understand that I caused a little annoyance to you all. If I
+did, I'm sure I didn't intend it. I'm sorry. There! Let's say no more
+about it. 'Tain't often that I say I'm sorry, but I say so now.
+Conditionally, though--that is, if I really _did_ annoy any body."
+
+"Well, Sir?"
+
+"Well, ma'am--about the business I came for. You have made a sudden
+decision to take this journey. I want to know, ma'am, if you made any
+inquiries about this road before starting?"
+
+"This road? No, certainly not."
+
+"I thought so," said the Baron. "Well, ma'am, I've reason to believe
+that it's somewhat unsafe."
+
+"Unsafe?"
+
+"Yes; particularly for ladies."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Why, ma'am, the country is in a disordered state, and near the
+boundary line it swarms with brigands. They call themselves
+Garibaldians, but between you and me, ma'am, they're neither more nor
+less than robbers. You see, along the boundary it is convenient for
+them to dodge to one side or the other, and where the road runs there
+are often crowds of them. Now our papal government means well, but it
+ain't got power to keep down these brigands. It would like to, but it
+can't. You see, the scum of all Italy gather along the borders,
+because they know we _are_ weak; and so there it is."
+
+"And you think there is danger on this road?" said Lady Dalrymple,
+looking keenly at him.
+
+"I do, ma'am."
+
+"Pray have you heard of any recent acts of violence along the road?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Then what reason have you for supposing that there is any particular
+danger now?"
+
+"A friend of mine told me so, ma'am."
+
+"But do not people use the road? Are not carriages constantly passing
+and repassing? Is it likely that if it were unsafe there would be no
+acts of violence? Yet you say there have been none."
+
+"Not of late, ma'am."
+
+"But it is of late, and of the present time, that we are speaking."
+
+"I can only say, ma'am, that the road is considered very dangerous."
+
+"Who considers it so?"
+
+"If you had made inquiries at Rome, ma'am, you would have found this
+out, and never would have thought of this road."
+
+"And you advise us not to travel it?"
+
+"I do, ma'am."
+
+"What would you advise us to do?"
+
+"I would advise you, ma'am, most earnestly, to turn and go back to
+Rome, and leave by another route."
+
+Lady Dalrymple looked at him, and a slight smile quivered on her lips.
+
+"I see, ma'am, that for some reason or other you doubt my word. Would
+you put confidence in it if another person were to confirm what I have
+said?"
+
+"That depends entirely upon who the other person may be."
+
+"The person I mean is Lord Hawbury."
+
+"Lord Hawbury? Indeed!" said Lady Dalrymple, in some surprise. "But
+he's in Rome."
+
+"No, ma'am, he's not. He's here--in this hotel."
+
+"In this hotel? Here?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I'm sure I should like to see him very much, and hear what he says
+about it."
+
+"I'll go and get him, then," said the Baron, and, rising briskly, he
+left the room.
+
+In a short time he returned with Hawbury. Lady Dalrymple expressed
+surprise to see him, and Hawbury explained that he was traveling with
+a friend. Lady Dalrymple, of course, thought this a fresh proof of his
+infatuation about Minnie, and wondered how he could be a friend to a
+man whom she considered as Minnie's persecutor and tormentor.
+
+The Baron at once proceeded to explain how the matter stood, and to
+ask Hawbury's opinion.
+
+"Yes," said Lady Dalrymple, "I should really like to know what you
+think about it."
+
+"Well, really," said Hawbury, "I have no acquaintance with the thing,
+you know. Never been on this road in my life. But, at the same time, I
+can assure you that this gentleman is a particular friend of mine, and
+one of the best fellows I know. I'd stake my life on his perfect truth
+and honor. If he says any thing, you may believe it because he says
+it. If he says there are brigands on the road, they must be there."
+
+"Oh, of course," said Lady Dalrymple. "You are right to believe your
+friend, and I should trust his word also. But do you not see that
+perhaps he may believe what he says, and yet be mistaken?"
+
+At this the Baron's face fell. Lord Hawbury's warm commendation of him
+had excited his hopes, but now Lady Dalrymple's answer had destroyed
+them.
+
+"For my part," she added, "I don't really think any of us know much
+about it. I wish we could find some citizen of the town, or some
+reliable person, and ask him. I wonder whether the inn-keeper is a
+trust-worthy man."
+
+The Baron shook his head.
+
+"I wouldn't trust one of them. They're the greatest rascals in the
+country. Every man of them is in league with the Garibaldians and
+brigands. This man would advise you to take whatever course would
+benefit himself and his friends most."
+
+"But surely we might find some one whose opinion would be reliable.
+What do you say to one of my drivers? The one that drove our carriage
+looks like a good, honest man."
+
+"Well, perhaps so; but I wouldn't trust one of them. I don't believe
+there's an honest vetturino in all Italy."
+
+Lady Dalrymple elevated her eyebrows, and threw at Hawbury a glance of
+despair.
+
+"He speaks English, too," said Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"So do some of the worst rascals in the country," said the Baron.
+
+"Oh, I don't think he can be a very bad rascal. We had better question
+him, at any rate. Don't you think so, Lord Hawbury?"
+
+"Well, yes; I suppose it won't do any harm to have a look at the
+beggar."
+
+The driver alluded to was summoned, and soon made his appearance. He
+was a square-headed fellow, with a grizzled beard, and one of those
+non-committal faces which may be worn by either an honest man or a
+knave. Lady Dalrymple thought him the former; the Baron the latter.
+The result will show which of these was in the right.
+
+The driver spoke very fair English. He had been two or three times
+over the road. He had not been over it later than two years before. He
+didn't know it was dangerous. He had never heard of brigands being
+here. He didn't know. There was a signore at the hotel who might know.
+He was traveling to Florence alone. He was on horseback.
+
+As soon as Lady Dalrymple heard this she suspected that it was Count
+Girasole. She determined to have his advice about it. So she sent a
+private request to that effect.
+
+It was Count Girasole. He entered, and threw his usual smile around.
+He was charmed, in his broken English, to be of any service to miladi.
+
+To Lady Dalrymple's statement and question Girasole listened
+attentively. As she concluded a faint smile passed over his face. The
+Baron watched him attentively.
+
+"I know no brigand on dissa road," said he.
+
+Lady Dalrymple looked triumphantly at the others.
+
+"I have travail dissa road many time. No dangaire--alla safe."
+
+Another smile from Lady Dalrymple.
+
+The Count Girasole looked at Hawbury and then at the Baron, with a
+slight dash of mockery in his face.
+
+"As for dangaire," he said--"pouf! dere is none. See, I go alone--no
+arms, not a knife--an' yet gold in my porte-monnaie."
+
+And he drew forth his porte-monnaie, and opened it so as to exhibit
+its contents.
+
+A little further conversation followed. Girasole evidently was
+perfectly familiar with the road. The idea of brigands appeared to
+strike him as some exquisite piece of pleasantry. He looked as though
+it was only his respect for the company which prevented him from
+laughing outright. They had taken the trouble to summon him for that!
+And, besides, as the Count suggested, even if a brigand did appear,
+there would be always travelers within hearing.
+
+Both Hawbury and the Baron felt humiliated, especially the latter; and
+Girasole certainly had the best of it on that occasion, whatever his
+lot had been at other times.
+
+The Count withdrew. The Baron followed, in company with Hawbury. He
+was deeply dejected. First of all, he had hoped to see Minnie. Then he
+hoped to frighten the party back. As to the brigands, he was in most
+serious earnest. All that he said he believed. He could not understand
+the driver and Count Girasole. The former he might consider a
+scoundrel; but why should Girasole mislead? And yet he believed that
+he was right. As for Hawbury, he didn't believe much in the brigands,
+but he did believe in his friend, and he didn't think much of
+Girasole. He was sorry for his friend, yet didn't know whether he
+wanted the party to turn back or not. His one trouble was Dacres, who
+now was watching the Italian like a blood-hound, who had seen him, no
+doubt, go up to the ladies, and, of course, would suppose that Mrs.
+Willoughby had sent for him.
+
+As for the ladies, their excitement was great. The doors were thin,
+and they had heard every word of the conversation. With Mrs.
+Willoughby there was but one opinion as to the Baron's motive: she
+thought he had come to get a peep at Minnie, and also to frighten them
+back to Rome by silly stories. His signal failure afforded her great
+triumph. Minnie, as usual, sympathized with him, but said nothing. As
+for Ethel, the sudden arrival of Lord Hawbury was overwhelming, and
+brought a return of all her former excitement. The sound of his voice
+again vibrated through her, and at first there began to arise no end
+of wild hopes, which, however, were as quickly dispelled. The question
+arose, What brought him there? There seemed to her but one answer, and
+that was his infatuation for Minnie. Yet to her, as well as to Lady
+Dalrymple, it seemed very singular that he should be so warm a friend
+to Minnie's tormentor. It was a puzzling thing. Perhaps he did not
+know that the Baron was Minnie's lover. Perhaps he thought that his
+friend would give her up, and he could win her. Amidst these thoughts
+there came a wild hope that perhaps he did not love Minnie so very
+much, after all. But this hope soon was dispelled as she recalled the
+events of the past, and reflected on his cool and easy indifference to
+every thing connected with her.
+
+Such emotions as these actuated the ladies; and when the guests had
+gone they joined their aunt once more, and deliberated. Minnie took no
+part in the debate, but sat apart, looking like an injured being.
+There was among them all the same opinion, and that was that it was
+all a clumsy device of the Baron's to frighten them back to Rome. Such
+being their opinion, they did not occupy much time in debating about
+their course on the morrow. The idea of going back did not enter their
+heads.
+
+This event gave a much more agreeable feeling to Mrs. Willoughby and
+Lady Dalrymple than they had known since they had been aware that the
+Baron had followed them. They felt that they had grappled with the
+difficulty. They had met the enemy and defeated him. Besides, the
+presence of Hawbury was of itself a guarantee of peace. There could be
+no further danger of any unpleasant scenes while Hawbury was with him.
+Girasole's presence, also, was felt to be an additional guarantee of
+safety.
+
+It was felt by all to be a remarkable circumstance that so many men
+should have followed them on what they had intended as quite a secret
+journey. These gentlemen who followed them were the very ones, and the
+only ones, from whom they wished to conceal it. Yet it had all been
+revealed to them, and lo! here they all were. Some debate arose as to
+whether it would not be better to go back to Rome now, and defy the
+Baron, and leave by another route. But this debate was soon given up,
+and they looked forward to the journey as one which might afford new
+and peculiar enjoyment.
+
+On the following morning they started at an early hour. Girasole left
+about half an hour after them, and passed them a few miles along the
+road. The Baron and the Reverend Saul left next; and last of all came
+Hawbury and Dacres. The latter was, if possible, more gloomy and
+vengeful than ever. The visit of the Italian on the preceding evening
+was fully believed by him to be a scheme of his wife's. Nor could any
+amount of persuasion or vehement statement on Hawbury's part in any
+way shake his belief.
+
+"No," he would say, "you don't understand. Depend upon it, she got him
+up there to feast her eyes on him. Depend upon it, she managed to get
+some note from him, and pass one to him in return. He had only to run
+it under the leaf of a table, or stick it inside of some book: no
+doubt they have it all arranged, and pass their infernal love-letters
+backward and forward. But I'll soon have a chance. My time is coming.
+It's near, too. I'll have my vengeance; and then for all the wrongs of
+all my life that demon of a woman shall pay me dear!"
+
+To all of which Hawbury had nothing to say. He could say nothing; he
+could do nothing. He could only stand by his friend, go with him, and
+watch over him, hoping to avert the crisis which he dreaded, or, if it
+did come, to lessen the danger of his friend.
+
+The morning was clear and beautiful. The road wound among the hills.
+The party went in the order above mentioned.
+
+First, Girasole, on horseback.
+
+Next, and two miles at least behind, came the two carriages with the
+ladies and their maids.
+
+Third, and half a mile behind these, came the Baron and the Reverend
+Saul.
+
+Last of all, and half a mile behind the Baron, came Hawbury and Scone
+Dacres.
+
+These last drove along at about this distance. The scenery around grew
+grander, and the mountains higher. The road was smooth and well
+constructed, and the carriage rolled along with an easy, comfortable
+rumble.
+
+They were driving up a slope which wound along the side of a hill. At
+the top of the hill trees appeared on each side, and the road made a
+sharp turn here.
+
+Suddenly the report of a shot sounded ahead.
+
+Then a scream.
+
+"Good Lord! Dacres, did you hear that?" cried Hawbury. "The Baron was
+right, after all."
+
+The driver here tried to stop his horses, but Hawbury would not let
+him.
+
+"Have you a pistol, Dacres?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Get out!" he shouted to the driver; and, kicking him out of the seat,
+he seized the reins himself, and drove the horses straight forward to
+where the noise arose.
+
+"It's the brigands, Dacres. The ladies are there."
+
+"My wife! O God! my wife!" groaned Dacres. But a minute before he had
+been cursing her.
+
+"Get a knife! Get something, man! Have a fight for it!"
+
+Dacres murmured something.
+
+Hawbury lashed the horses, and drove them straight toward the wood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+CAUGHT IN AMBUSH.
+
+
+The ladies had been driving on, quite unconscious of the neighborhood
+of any danger, admiring the beauty of the scenery, and calling one
+another's attention to the various objects of interest which from time
+to time became visible. Thus engaged, they slowly ascended the incline
+already spoken of, and began to enter the forest. They had not gone
+far when the road took a sudden turn, and here a startling spectacle
+burst upon their view.
+
+The road on turning descended slightly into a hollow. On the right
+arose a steep acclivity, covered with the dense forest. On the other
+side the ground rose more gradually, and was covered over by a forest
+much less dense. Some distance in front the road took another turn,
+and was lost to view among the trees. About a hundred yards in front
+of them a tree had been felled, and lay across the way, barring their
+progress.
+
+About twenty armed men stood before them close by the place where the
+turn was. Among them was a man on horseback. To their amazement, it
+was Girasole.
+
+Before the ladies could recover from their astonishment two of the
+armed men advanced, and the driver at once stopped the carriage.
+
+Girasole then came forward.
+
+"Miladi," said he, "I haf de honore of to invitar you to descend."
+
+"Pray what is the meaning of this?" inquired Lady Dalrymple, with much
+agitation.
+
+"It means dat I war wrong. Dere are brigand on dis road."
+
+Lady Dalrymple said not another word.
+
+The Count approached, and politely offered his hand to assist the
+ladies out, but they rejected it, and got out themselves. First Mrs.
+Willoughby, then Ethel, then Lady Dalrymple, then Minnie. Three of the
+ladies were white with utter horror, and looked around in sickening
+fear upon the armed men; but Minnie showed not even the slightest
+particle of fear.
+
+"How horrid!" she exclaimed. "And now some one will come and save my
+life again. It's _always_ the way. I'm sure _this_ isn't my fault,
+Kitty darling."
+
+Before her sister could say any thing Girasole approached.
+
+"Pardon, mees," he said; "but I haf made dis recepzion for you. You
+sall be well treat. Do not fear. I lay down my life."
+
+"Villain!" cried Lady Dalrymple. "Arrest her at your peril. Remember
+who she is. She has friends powerful enough to avenge her if you dare
+to injure her."
+
+"You arra mistake," said Girasole, politely. "Se is mine, not yours. I
+am her best fren. Se is fiancée to me. I save her life--tell her my
+love--make a proposezion. Se accept me. Se is my fiancée. I was oppose
+by you. What else sall I do? I mus haf her. Se is mine. I am an
+Italiano nobile, an' I love her. Dere is no harm for any. You mus see
+dat I haf de right. But for me se would be dead."
+
+Lady Dalrymple was not usually excitable, but now her whole nature was
+aroused; her eyes flashed with indignation; her face turned red; she
+gasped for breath, and fell to the ground. Ethel rushed to assist her,
+and two of the maids came up. Lady Dalrymple lay senseless.
+
+With Mrs. Willoughby the result was different. She burst into tears.
+
+"Count Girasole," she cried, "oh, spare her! If you love her, spare
+her. She is only a child. If we opposed you, it was not from any
+objection to you; it was because she is such a child."
+
+"You mistake," said the Count, shrugging his shoulders. "I love her
+better than life. Se love me. It will make her happy. You come too.
+You sall see se is happy. Come. Be my sistaire. It is love--"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby burst into fresh tears at this, and flung her arms
+around Minnie, and moaned and wept.
+
+"Well, now, Kitty darling, I think it's horrid. You're _never_
+satisfied. You're always finding fault. I'm sure if you don't like
+Rufus K. Gunn, you--"
+
+But Minnie's voice was interrupted by the sound of approaching wheels.
+It was the carriage of the Baron and his friend. The Baron had feared
+brigands, but he was certainly not expecting to come upon them so
+suddenly. The brigands had been prepared, and as the carriage turned
+it was suddenly stopped by the two carriages in front, and at once was
+surrounded.
+
+The Baron gave one lightning glance, and surveyed the whole situation.
+He did not move, but his form was rigid, and every nerve was braced,
+and his eyes gleamed fiercely. He saw it all--the crowd of women, the
+calm face of Minnie, and the uncontrollable agitation of Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+"Well, by thunder!" he exclaimed.
+
+Girasole rode up and called out:
+
+"Surrender! You arra my prisoner."
+
+"What! it's you, is it?" said the Baron; and he glared for a moment
+with a vengeful look at Girasole.
+
+"Descend," said Girasole. "You mus be bound."
+
+"Bound? All right. Here, parson, you jump down, and let them tie your
+hands."
+
+The Baron stood up. The Reverend Saul stood up too. The Reverend Saul
+began to step down very carefully. The brigands gathered around, most
+of them being on the side on which the two were about to descend. The
+Reverend Saul had just stepped to the ground. The Baron was just
+preparing to follow. The brigands were impatient to secure them, when
+suddenly, with a quick movement, the Baron gave a spring out of the
+opposite side of the carriage, and leaped to the ground. The brigands
+were taken completely by surprise, and before they could prepare to
+follow him, he had sprung into the forest, and, with long bounds, was
+rushing up the steep hill and out of sight.
+
+One shot was fired after him, and that was the shot that Hawbury and
+Dacres heard. Two men sprang after him with the hope of catching him.
+
+In a few moments a loud cry was heard from the woods.
+
+"MIN!"
+
+Minnie heard it; a gleam of light flashed from her eyes, a smile of
+triumph came over her lips.
+
+"Wha-a-a-a-t?" she called in reply.
+
+"Wa-a-a-a-a-a-it!" was the cry that came back--and this was the cry
+that Hawbury and Dacres had heard.
+
+"Sacr-r-r-r-r-r-remento!" growled Girasole.
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know what he means by telling me that," said
+Minnie. "How can _I_ wait if this horrid Italian won't let me? I'm
+sure he might be more considerate."
+
+Poor Mrs. Willoughby, who had for a moment been roused to hope by the
+escape of the Baron, now fell again into despair, and wept and moaned
+and clung to Minnie. Lady Dalrymple still lay senseless, in spite of
+the efforts of Ethel and the maids. The occurrence had been more to
+her than a mere encounter with brigands. It was the thought of her own
+carelessness that overwhelmed her. In an instant the thought of the
+Baron's warning and his solemn entreaties flashed across her memory.
+She recollected how Hawbury had commended his friend, and how she had
+turned from these to put her trust in the driver and Girasole, the
+very men who had betrayed her. These were the thoughts that
+overwhelmed her.
+
+But now there arose once more the noise of rolling wheels, advancing
+more swiftly than the last, accompanied by the lash of a whip and
+shouts of a human voice. Girasole spoke to his men, and they moved up
+nearer to the bend, and stood in readiness there.
+
+What Hawbury's motive was it is not difficult to tell. He was not
+armed, and therefore could not hope to do much; but he had in an
+instant resolved to rush thus into the midst of the danger. First of
+all he thought that a struggle might be going on between the drivers,
+the other travelers, and the brigands; in which event his assistance
+would be of great value. Though unarmed, he thought he might snatch or
+wrest a weapon from some one of the enemy. In addition to this, he
+wished to strike a blow to save the ladies from captivity, even if his
+blow should be unavailing. Even if he had known how matters were, he
+would probably have acted in precisely the same way. As for Dacres, he
+had but one idea. He was sure it was some trick concocted by his wife
+and the Italian, though why they should do so he did not stop, in his
+mad mood, to inquire. A vague idea that a communication had passed
+between them on the preceding evening with reference to this was now
+in his mind, and his vengeful feeling was stimulated by this thought
+to the utmost pitch of intensity.
+
+Hawbury thus lashed his horses, and they flew along the road. After
+the first cry and the shot that they had heard there was no further
+noise. The stillness was mysterious. It showed Hawbury that the
+struggle, if there had been any, was over. But the first idea still
+remained both in his own mind and in that of Dacres. On they went, and
+now they came to the turn in the road. Round this they whirled, and in
+an instant the scene revealed itself.
+
+Three carriages stopped; some drivers standing and staring
+indifferently; a group of women crowding around a prostrate form that
+lay in the road; a pale, beautiful girl, to whom a beautiful woman was
+clinging passionately; a crowd of armed brigands with leveled pieces;
+and immediately before them a horseman--the Italian, Girasole.
+
+One glance showed all this. Hawbury could not distinguish any face
+among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel's
+face was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby
+and Girasole.
+
+"What the devil's all this about?" asked Hawbury, haughtily, as his
+horses stopped at the Baron's carriage.
+
+"You are prisoners--" began Girasole.
+
+But before he could say another word he was interrupted by a cry of
+fury from Dacres, who, the moment that he had recognized him, sprang
+to his feet, and with a long, keen knife in his hand, leaped from the
+carriage into the midst of the brigands, striking right and left, and
+endeavoring to force his way toward Girasole. In an instant Hawbury
+was by his side. Two men fell beneath the fierce thrusts of Dacres's
+knife, and Hawbury tore the rifle from a third. With the clubbed end
+of this he began dealing blows right and left. The men fell back and
+leveled their pieces. Dacres sprang forward, and was within three
+steps of Girasole--his face full of ferocity, his eyes flashing, and
+looking not so much like an English gentleman as one of the old
+vikings in a Berserker rage. One more spring brought him closer to
+Girasole. The Italian retreated. One of his men flung himself before
+Dacres and tried to grapple with him. The next instant he fell with a
+groan, stabbed to the heart. With a yell of rage the others rushed
+upon Dacres; but the latter was now suddenly seized with a new idea.
+Turning for an instant he held his assailants at bay; and then,
+seizing the opportunity, sprang into the woods and ran. One or two
+shots were fired, and then half a dozen men gave chase.
+
+Meanwhile one or two shots had been fired at Hawbury, but, in the
+confusion, they had not taken effect. Suddenly, as he stood with
+uplifted rifle ready to strike, his enemies made a simultaneous rush
+upon him. He was seized by a dozen strong arms. He struggled fiercely,
+but his efforts were unavailing. The odds were too great. Before long
+he was thrown to the ground on his face, and his arms bound behind
+him. After this he was gagged.
+
+The uproar of this fierce struggle had roused all the ladies, and they
+turned their eyes in horror to where the two were fighting against
+such odds. Ethel raised herself on her knees from beside Lady
+Dalrymple, and caught sight of Hawbury. For a moment she remained
+motionless; and then she saw the escape of Dacres, and Hawbury going
+down in the grasp of his assailants. She gave a loud shriek and rushed
+forward. But Girasole intercepted her.
+
+"Go back," he said. "De milor is my prisoner. Back, or you will be
+bound."
+
+And at a gesture from him two of the men advanced to seize Ethel.
+
+"Back!" he said, once more, in a stern voice. "You mus be tentif to
+miladi."
+
+Ethel shrank back.
+
+The sound of that scream had struck on Hawbury's ears, but he did not
+recognize it. If he thought of it at all, he supposed it was the
+scream of common terror from one of the women. He was sore and bruised
+and fast bound. He was held down also in such a way that he could not
+see the party of ladies. The Baron's carriage intercepted the view,
+for he had fallen behind this during the final struggle. After a
+little time he was allowed to sit up, but still he could not see
+beyond.
+
+There was now some delay, and Girasole gave some orders to his men.
+The ladies waited with fearful apprehensions. They listened eagerly to
+hear if there might not be some sounds of approaching help. But no
+such sounds came to gladden their hearts. Lady Dalrymple, also, still
+lay senseless; and Ethel, full of the direst anxiety about Hawbury,
+had to return to renew her efforts toward reviving her aunt.
+
+Before long the brigands who had been in pursuit of the fugitives
+returned to the road. They did not bring back either of them. A
+dreadful question arose in the minds of the ladies as to the meaning
+of this. Did it mean that the fugitives had escaped, or had been shot
+down in the woods by their wrathful pursuers? It was impossible for
+them to find out. Girasole went over to them and conversed with them
+apart. The men all looked sullen; but whether that arose from
+disappointed vengeance or gratified ferocity it was impossible for
+them to discern.
+
+[Illustration: THE MÊLÉE.]
+
+The brigands now turned their attention to their own men. Two of these
+had received bad but not dangerous wounds from the dagger of Dacres,
+and the scowls of pain and rage which they threw upon Hawbury and the
+other captives boded nothing but the most cruel fate to all of them.
+Another, however, still lay there. It was the one who had intercepted
+Dacres in his rush upon Girasole. He lay motionless in a pool of
+blood. They turned him over. His white, rigid face, as it became
+exposed to view, exhibited the unmistakable mark of death, and a gash
+on his breast showed how his fate had met him.
+
+The brigands uttered loud cries, and advanced toward Hawbury. He sat
+regarding them with perfect indifference. They raised their rifles,
+some clubbing them, others taking aim, swearing and gesticulating all
+the time like maniacs.
+
+Hawbury, however, did not move a muscle of his face, nor did he show
+the slightest feeling of any kind. He was covered with dust, and his
+clothes were torn and splashed with mud, and his hands were bound, and
+his mouth was gagged; but he preserved a coolness that astonished his
+enemies. Had it not been for this coolness his brains might have been
+blown out--in which case this narrative would never have been written;
+but there was something in his look which made the Italians pause,
+gave Girasole time to interfere, and thus preserved my story from
+ruin.
+
+Girasole then came up and made his men stand back. They obeyed
+sullenly.
+
+Girasole removed the gag.
+
+Then he stood and looked at Hawbury. Hawbury sat and returned his look
+with his usual nonchalance, regarding the Italian with a cold, steady
+stare, which produced upon the latter its usual maddening effect.
+
+"Milor will be ver glad to hear," said he, with a mocking smile, "dat
+de mees will be take good care to. Milor was attentif to de mees; but
+de mees haf been fiancée to me, an' so I take dis occazione to mak her
+mine. I sall love her, an' se sall love me. I haf save her life, an'
+se haf been fiancée to me since den."
+
+Now Girasole had chosen to say this to Hawbury from the conviction
+that Hawbury was Minnie's lover, and that the statement of this would
+inflict a pang upon the heart of his supposed rival which would
+destroy his coolness. Thus he chose rather to strike at Hawbury's
+jealousy than at his fear or at his pride.
+
+But he was disappointed. Hawbury heard his statement with utter
+indifference.
+
+"Well," said he, "all I can say is that it seems to me to be a
+devilish odd way of going to work about it."
+
+"Aha!" said Girasole, fiercely. "You sall see. Se sall be mine. Aha!"
+
+Hawbury made no reply, and Girasole, after a gesture of impatience,
+walked off, baffled.
+
+In a few minutes two men came up to Hawbury, and led him away to the
+woods on the left.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY SAW A RUINED HOUSE."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+AMONG THE BRIGANDS.
+
+
+Girasole now returned to the ladies. They were in the same position in
+which he had left them. Mrs. Willoughby with Minnie, and Ethel, with
+the maids, attending to Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole, "I beg your attenzion. I haf had de honore to
+inform you dat dis mees is my fiancée. Se haf give me her heart an'
+her hand; se love me, an' I love her. I was prevent from to see her,
+an' I haf to take her in dis mannaire. I feel sad at de pain I haf
+give you, an' assuir you dat it was inevitabile. You sall not be
+troubled more. You are free. Mees," he continued, taking Minnie's
+hand, "you haf promis me dis fair han', an' you are mine. You come to
+one who loves you bettaire dan life, an' who you love. You owe youair
+life to me. I sall make it so happy as nevair was."
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't want to be happy," said Minnie. "I don't _want_ to
+leave darling Kitty--and it's a shame--and you'll make me _hate_ you
+if you do so."
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole to Mrs. Willoughby, "de mees says se not want
+to leaf you. Eef you want to come, you may come an' be our sistaire."
+
+"Oh, Kitty darling, you won't leave me, will you, all alone with this
+horrid man?" said Minnie.
+
+"My darling," moaned Mrs. Willoughby, "how can I? I'll go. Oh, my
+sweet sister, what misery!"
+
+"Oh, now that will be really _quite_ delightful if you _will_ come,
+Kitty darling. Only I'm afraid you'll find it awfully uncomfortable."
+
+Girasole turned once more to the other ladies.
+
+"I beg you will assura de miladi when she recovaire of my
+considerazion de mos distingue, an' convey to her de regrettas dat I
+haf. Miladi," he continued, addressing Ethel, "you are free, an' can
+go. You will not be molest by me. You sall go safe. You haf not ver
+far. You sall fin' houses dere--forward--before--not far."
+
+With these words he turned away.
+
+"You mus come wit me," he said to Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie. "Come.
+Eet ees not ver far."
+
+He walked slowly into the woods on the left, and the two sisters
+followed him. Of the two Minnie was far the more cool and collected.
+She was as composed as usual; and, as there was no help for it, she
+walked on. Mrs. Willoughby, however, was terribly agitated, and wept
+and shuddered and moaned incessantly.
+
+"Kitty darling," said Minnie, "I _wish_ you wouldn't go on so. You
+really make me feel quite nervous. I never saw you so bad in my life."
+
+"Poor Minnie! Poor child! Poor sweet child!"
+
+"Well, if I am a child, you needn't go and tell me about it all the
+time. It's really quite horrid."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said no more, but generously tried to repress her own
+feelings, so as not to give distress to her sister.
+
+After the Count had entered the wood with the two sisters the drivers
+removed the horses from the carriages and went away, led off by the
+man who had driven the ladies. This was the man whose stolid face had
+seemed likely to belong to an honest man, but who now was shown to
+belong to the opposite class. These men went down the road over which
+they had come, leaving the carriages there with the ladies and their
+maids.
+
+Girasole now led the way, and Minnie and her sister followed him. The
+wood was very thick, and grew more so as they advanced, but there was
+not much underbrush, and progress was not difficult. Several times a
+wild thought of flight came to Mrs. Willoughby, but was at once
+dispelled by a helpless sense of its utter impossibility. How could
+she persuade the impracticable Minnie, who seemed so free from all
+concern? or, if she could persuade her, how could she accomplish her
+desire? She would at once be pursued and surrounded, while, even if
+she did manage to escape, how could she ever find her way to any place
+of refuge? Every minute, also, drew them deeper and deeper into the
+woods, and the path was a winding one, in which she soon became
+bewildered, until at last all sense of her whereabouts was utterly
+gone. At last even the idea of escaping ceased to suggest itself, and
+there remained only a dull despair, a sense of utter helplessness and
+hopelessness--the sense of one who is going to his doom.
+
+Girasole said nothing whatever, but led the way in silence, walking
+slowly enough to accommodate the ladies, and sometimes holding an
+overhanging branch to prevent it from springing back in their faces.
+Minnie walked on lightly, and with an elastic step, looking around
+with evident interest upon the forest. Once a passing lizard drew from
+her a pretty little shriek of alarm, thus showing that while she was
+so calm in the face of real and frightful danger, she could be alarmed
+by even the most innocent object that affected her fancy. Mrs.
+Willoughby thought that she understood Minnie before, but this little
+shriek at a lizard, from one who smiled at the brigands, struck her as
+a problem quite beyond her power to solve.
+
+The woods now began to grow thinner. The trees were larger and farther
+apart, and rose all around in columnar array, so that it was possible
+to see between them to a greater distance. At length there appeared
+before them, through the trunks of the trees, the gleam of water. Mrs.
+Willoughby noticed this, and wondered what it might be. At first she
+thought it was a harbor on the coast; then she thought it was some
+river; but finally, on coming nearer, she saw that it was a lake. In a
+few minutes after they first caught sight of it they had reached its
+banks.
+
+It was a most beautiful and sequestered spot. All around were high
+wooded eminences, beyond whose undulating summits arose the towering
+forms of the Apennine heights. Among these hills lay a little lake
+about a mile in length and breadth, whose surface was as smooth as
+glass, and reflected the surrounding shores. On their right, as they
+descended, they saw some figures moving, and knew them to be the
+brigands, while on their left they saw a ruined house. Toward this
+Girasole led them.
+
+The house stood on the shore of the lake. It was of stone, and was two
+stories in height. The roof was still good, but the windows were gone.
+There was no door, but half a dozen or so of the brigands stood there,
+and formed a sufficient guard to prevent the escape of any prisoner.
+These men had dark, wicked eyes and sullen faces, which afforded fresh
+terror to Mrs. Willoughby. She had thought, in her desperation, of
+making some effort to escape by bribing the men, but the thorough-bred
+rascality which was evinced in the faces of these ruffians showed her
+that they were the very fellows who would take her money and cheat her
+afterward. If she had been able to speak Italian, she might have
+secured their services by the prospect of some future reward after
+escaping; but, as it was, she could not speak a word of the language,
+and thus could not enter upon even the preliminaries of an escape.
+
+On reaching the house the ruffians stood aside, staring hard at them.
+Mrs. Willoughby shrank in terror from the baleful glances of their
+eyes; but Minnie looked at them calmly and innocently, and not without
+some of that curiosity which a child shows when he first sees a
+Chinaman or an Arab in the streets. Girasole then led the way up
+stairs to a room on the second story.
+
+It was an apartment of large size, extending across the house, with a
+window at each end, and two on the side. On the floor there was a heap
+of straw, over which some skins were thrown. There were no chairs, nor
+was there any table.
+
+"Scusa me," said Girasole, "miladi, for dis accommodazion. It gifs me
+pain, but I promise it sall not be long. Only dis day an' dis night
+here. I haf to detain you dat time. Den we sall go to where I haf a
+home fitter for de bride. I haf a home wharra you sall be a happy
+bride, mees--"
+
+"But I don't want to stay here _at all_ in such a horrid place," said
+Minnie, looking around in disgust.
+
+"Only dis day an' dis night," said Girasole, imploringly. "Aftaire you
+sall have all you sall wis."
+
+"Well, at any rate, I think it's very horrid in you to shut me up
+here. You might let me walk outside in the woods. I'm so _aw_fully
+fond of the woods."
+
+Girasole smiled faintly.
+
+"And so you sall have plenty of de wood--but to-morra. You wait here
+now. All safe--oh yes--secura--all aright--oh yes--slip to-night, an'
+in de mornin' early you sall be mine. Dere sall come a priest, an' we
+sall have de ceremony."
+
+"Well, I think it was very unkind in you to bring me to such a horrid
+place. And how can I sit down? You _might_ have had a chair. And look
+at poor, darling Kitty. You may be unkind to me, but you needn't make
+_her_ sit on the floor. You never saved _her_ life, and you have no
+right to be unkind to her."
+
+"Unkind! Oh, mees!--my heart, my life, all arra youairs, an' I lay my
+life at youair foot."
+
+"I think it would be far more kind if you would put a chair at poor
+Kitty's feet," retorted Minnie, with some show of temper.
+
+"But, oh, carissima, tink--de wild wood--noting here--no, noting--not
+a chair--only de straw."
+
+"Then you had no business to bring me here. You might have known that
+there were no chairs here. I can't sit down on nothing. But I suppose
+you expect me to stand up. And if that isn't horrid, I don't know what
+is. I'm sure I don't know what poor dear papa would say if he were to
+see me now."
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS FOR?"]
+
+"Do not grieve, carissima mia--do not, charming mees, decompose
+yourself. To-morra you sall go to a bettaire place, an' I will carra
+you to my castello. You sall haf every want, you sall enjoy every wis,
+you sall be happy."
+
+"But I don't see how I can be happy without a chair," reiterated
+Minnie, in whose mind this one grievance now became pre-eminent. "You
+talk as though you think I am made of stone or iron, and you think I
+can stand here all day or all night, and you want me to sleep on that
+horrid straw and those horrid furry things. I suppose this is the
+castle that you speak of; and I'm sure I wonder why you _ever_ thought
+of bringing me here. I suppose it doesn't make so much difference
+about a _carpet_; but you will not even let me have a _chair_; and I
+think you're _very_ unkind."
+
+Girasole was in despair. He stood in thought for some time. He felt
+that Minnie's rebuke was deserved. If she had reproached him with
+waylaying her and carrying her off, he could have borne it, and could
+have found a reply. But such a charge as this was unanswerable. It
+certainly was very hard that she should not be able to sit down. But
+then how was it possible for him to find a chair in the woods? It was
+an insoluble problem. How in the world could he satisfy her?
+
+Minnie's expression also was most touching. The fact that she had no
+chair to sit on seemed to absolutely overwhelm her. The look that she
+gave Girasole was so piteous, so reproachful, so heart-rending, that
+his soul actually quaked, and a thrill of remorse passed all through
+his frame. He felt a cold chill running to the very marrow of his
+bones.
+
+"I think you're _very, very_ unkind," said Minnie, "and I really don't
+see how I can _ever_ speak to you again."
+
+This was too much. Girasole turned away. He rushed down stairs. He
+wandered frantically about. He looked in all directions for a chair.
+There was plenty of wood certainly--for all around he saw the vast
+forest--but of what use was it? He could not transform a tree into a
+chair. He communicated his difficulty to some of the men. They shook
+their heads helplessly. At last he saw the stump of a tree which was
+of such a shape that it looked as though it might be used as a seat.
+It was his only resource, and he seized it. Calling two or three of
+the men, he had the stump carried to the old house. He rushed up
+stairs to acquaint Minnie with his success, and to try to console her.
+She listened in coldness to his hasty words. The men who were carrying
+the stump came up with a clump and a clatter, breathing hard, for the
+stump was very heavy, and finally placed it on the landing in front of
+Minnie's door. On reaching that spot it was found that it would not go
+in.
+
+Minnie heard the noise and came out. She looked at the stump, then at
+the men and then at Girasole.
+
+"What is this for?" she asked.
+
+"Eet--eet ees for a chair."
+
+"A chair!" exclaimed Minnie. "Why, it's nothing but a great big,
+horrid, ugly old stump, and--"
+
+Her remarks ended in a scream. She turned and ran back into the room.
+
+"What--what is de mattaire?" cried the Count, looking into the room
+with a face pale with anxiety.
+
+"Oh, take it away! take it away!" cried Minnie, in terror.
+
+"What? what?"
+
+"Take it away! take it away!" she repeated.
+
+"But eet ees for you--eet ees a seat."
+
+"I don't want it. I won't have it!" cried Minnie. "It's full of horrid
+ants and things. And it's dreadful--and _very, very_ cruel in you to
+bring them up here just to _tease_ me, when you _know_ I hate them so.
+Take it away! take it away! oh, do please take it away! And oh, do
+please go away yourself, and leave me with dear, darling Kitty. _She_
+never teases me. She is _always_ kind."
+
+Girasole turned away once more, in fresh trouble. He had the stump
+carried off, and then he wandered away. He was quite at a loss what to
+do. He was desperately in love, and it was a very small request for
+Minnie to make, and he was in that state of mind when it would be a
+happiness to grant her slightest wish; but here he found himself in a
+difficulty from which he could find no possible means of escape.
+
+"And now, Kitty darling," said Minnie, after Girasole had gone--"now
+you see how very, very wrong you were to be so opposed to that dear,
+good, kind, nice Rufus K. Gunn. _He_ would never have treated me so.
+_He_ would never have taken me to a place like this--a horrid old
+house by a horrid damp pond, without doors and windows, just like a
+beggar's house--and then put me in a room without a chair to sit on
+when I'm so _aw_fully tired. He was _always_ kind to me, and that was
+the reason you hated him so, because you couldn't bear to have people
+kind to me. And I'm _so_ tired."
+
+"Come, then, poor darling. I'll make a nice seat for you out of these
+skins."
+
+And Mrs. Willoughby began to fold some of them up and lay them one
+upon the other.
+
+"What is that for, Kitty dear?" asked Minnie.
+
+"To make you a nice, soft seat, dearest."
+
+"But I don't want them, and I won't sit on the horrid things," said
+Minnie.
+
+"But, darling, they are as soft as a cushion. See!" And her sister
+pressed her hand on them, so as to show how soft they were.
+
+"I don't think they're soft _at all_," said Minnie; "and I wish you
+wouldn't tease me so, when I'm _so_ tired."
+
+"Then come, darling; I will sit on them, and you shall sit on my
+knees."
+
+"But I don't want to go near those horrid furry things. They belong to
+cows and things. I think _every body's_ unkind to me to-day."
+
+"Minnie, dearest, you really wound me when you talk in that way. Be
+reasonable now. See what pains I take. I do all I can for you."
+
+"But I'm _always_ reasonable, and it's _you_ that are unreasonable,
+when you want me to sit on that horrid fur. It's very, _very_
+disagreeable in you, Kitty dear."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said nothing, but went on folding some more skins.
+These she placed on the straw so that a pile was formed about as high
+as an ordinary chair. This pile was placed against the wall so that
+the wall served as a support.
+
+Then she seated herself upon this.
+
+"Minnie, dearest," said she.
+
+"Well, Kitty darling."
+
+"It's really quite soft and comfortable. Do come and sit on it; do,
+just to please me, only for five minutes. See! I'll spread my dress
+over it so that you need not touch it. Come, dearest, only for five
+minutes."
+
+"Well, I'll sit on it just for a little mite of a time, if you promise
+not to tease me."
+
+"Tease you, dear! Why, of course not. Come."
+
+So Minnie went over and sat by her sister's side.
+
+In about an hour Girasole came back. The two sisters were seated
+there. Minnie's head was resting on her sister's shoulder, and she was
+fast asleep, while Mrs. Willoughby sat motionless, with her face
+turned toward him, and such an expression in her dark eyes that
+Girasole felt awed. He turned in silence and went away.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+SEEKING FOR HELP.
+
+
+The departure of the drivers with their horses had increased the
+difficulties of the party, and had added to their danger. Of that
+party Ethel was now the head, and her efforts were directed more
+zealously than ever to bring back Lady Dalrymple to her senses. At
+last these efforts were crowned with success, and, after being
+senseless for nearly an hour, she came to herself. The restoration of
+her senses, however, brought with it the discovery of all that had
+occurred, and thus caused a new rush of emotion, which threatened
+painful consequences. But the consequences were averted, and at length
+she was able to rise. She was then helped into her carriage, after
+which the question arose as to their next proceeding.
+
+[Illustration: "ETHEL OBTAINED A PAIR OF SCISSORS."]
+
+The loss of the horses and drivers was a very embarrassing thing to
+them, and for a time they were utterly at a loss what course to adopt.
+Lady Dalrymple was too weak to walk, and they had no means of
+conveying her. The maids had simply lost their wits from fright; and
+Ethel could not see her way clearly out of the difficulty. At this
+juncture they were roused by the approach of the Rev. Saul Tozer.
+
+This reverend man had been bound as he descended from his carriage,
+and had remained bound ever since. In that state he had been a
+spectator of the struggle and its consequences, and he now came
+forward to offer his services.
+
+"I don't know whether you remember me, ma'am," said he to Lady
+Dalrymple, "but I looked in at your place at Rome; and in any case I
+am bound to offer you my assistance, since you are companions with me
+in my bonds, which I'd be much obliged if one of you ladies would
+untie or cut. Perhaps it would be best to untie it, as rope's
+valuable."
+
+At this request Ethel obtained a pair of scissors from one of the
+maids, and after vigorous efforts succeeded in freeing the reverend
+gentleman.
+
+"Really, Sir, I am very much obliged for this kind offer," said Lady
+Dalrymple, "and I avail myself of it gratefully. Can you advise us
+what is best to do?"
+
+"Well, ma'am, I've been turning it over in my mind, and have made it a
+subject of prayer; and it seems to me that it wouldn't be bad to go
+out and see the country."
+
+"There are no houses for miles," said Ethel.
+
+"Have you ever been this road before?" said Tozer.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how do you know?"
+
+"Oh, I was thinking of the part we had passed over."
+
+"True; but the country in front may be different. Didn't that brigand
+captain say something about getting help ahead?"
+
+"Yes, so he did; I remember now," said Ethel.
+
+"Well, I wouldn't take his advice generally, but in this matter I
+don't see any harm in following it; so I move that I be a committee of
+one to go ahead and investigate the country and bring help."
+
+"Oh, thanks, thanks, very much. Really, Sir, this is very kind," said
+Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"And I'll go too," said Ethel, as a sudden thought occurred to her.
+"Would you be afraid, aunty dear, to stay here alone?"
+
+"Certainly not, dear. I have no more fear for myself, but I'm afraid
+to trust you out of my sight."
+
+"Oh, you need not fear for me," said Ethel. "I shall certainly be as
+safe farther on as I am here. Besides, if we can find help I will know
+best what is wanted."
+
+"Well, dear, I suppose you may go."
+
+Without further delay Ethel started off, and Tozer walked by her side.
+They went under the fallen tree, and then walked quickly along the
+road.
+
+"Do you speak Italian, miss?" asked Tozer.
+
+"No."
+
+"I'm sorry for that. I don't either. I'm told it's a fine language."
+
+"So I believe; but how very awkward it will be not to be able to speak
+to any person!"
+
+"Well, the Italian is a kind of offshoot of the Latin, and I can
+scrape together a few Latin words--enough to make myself understood, I
+do believe."
+
+"Can you, really? How very fortunate!"
+
+"It is somewhat providential, miss, and I hope I may succeed."
+
+They walked on in silence now for some time. Ethel was too sad to
+talk, and Tozer was busily engaged in recalling all the Latin at his
+command. After a while he began to grow sociable.
+
+"Might I ask, miss, what persuasion you are?"
+
+"Persuasion?" said Ethel, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, 'm; de-nomination--religious body, you know."
+
+"Oh! why, I belong to the Church."
+
+"Oh! and what church did you say, 'm?"
+
+"The Church of England."
+
+"H'm. The 'Piscopalian body. Well, it's a high-toned body."
+
+Ethel gave a faint smile at this whimsical application of a name to
+her church, and then Tozer returned to the charge.
+
+"Are you a professor?"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A professor."
+
+"A professor?" repeated Ethel. "I don't think I _quite_ understand
+you."
+
+"Well, do you belong to the church? Are you a member?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it. It's a high and a holy and a happy perrivelege
+to belong to the church and enjoy the means of grace. I trust you live
+up to your perriveleges?"
+
+"Live what?" asked Ethel.
+
+"Live up to your perriveleges," repeated Tozer--"attend on all the
+means of grace--be often at the assembling of yourself together."
+
+"The assembling of myself together? I don't think I _quite_ get your
+meaning," said Ethel.
+
+"Meeting, you know--church-meeting."
+
+"Oh yes; I didn't understand. Oh yes, I always go to church."
+
+"That's right," said Tozer, with a sigh of relief; "and I suppose,
+now, you feel an interest in the cause of missions?"
+
+"Missions? Oh, I don't know. The Roman Catholics practice that to some
+extent, and several of my friends say they feel benefit from a mission
+once a year; but for my part I have not yet any very decided leanings
+to Roman Catholicism."
+
+"Oh, dear me, dear me!" cried Tozer, "that's not what I mean at all; I
+mean Protestant missions to the heathen, you know."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Ethel. "I thought you were referring to
+something else."
+
+Tozer was silent now for a few minutes, and then asked her, abruptly,
+
+"What's your opinion about the Jews?"
+
+"The Jews?" exclaimed Ethel, looking at him in some surprise, and
+thinking that her companion must be a little insane to carry on such
+an extraordinary conversation with such very abrupt changes--"the
+Jews?"
+
+"Yes, the Jews."
+
+"Oh, I don't like them at all."
+
+"But they're the chosen people."
+
+"I can't help that. I don't like them. But then, you know, I never
+really saw much of them."
+
+"I refer to their future prospects," said Tozer--"to prophecy. I
+should like to ask you how you regard them in that light. Do you
+believe in a spiritual or a temporal Zion?"
+
+"Spiritual Zion? Temporal Zion?"
+
+"Yes, 'm."
+
+"Well, really, I don't know. I don't think I believe any thing at all
+about it."
+
+"But you _must_ believe in either one or the other--you've _got_ to,"
+said Tozer, positively.
+
+"But I _don't_, you know; and how can I?"
+
+Tozer threw at her a look of commiseration, and began to think that
+his companion was not much better than a heathen. In his own home
+circle he could have put his hand on little girls of ten who were
+quite at home on all these subjects. He was silent for a time, and
+then began again.
+
+"I'd like to ask you one thing," said he, "very much."
+
+"What is it?" asked Ethel.
+
+"Do you believe," asked Tozer, solemnly, "that we're living in the
+Seventh Vial?"
+
+"Vial? Seventh Vial?" said Ethel, in fresh amazement.
+
+"Yes, the Seventh Vial," said Tozer, in a sepulchral voice.
+
+"Living in the Seventh Vial? I really don't know how one can live in a
+vial."
+
+"The Great Tribulation, you know."
+
+"Great Tribulation?"
+
+"Yes; for instance, now, don't you believe in the Apocalyptic Beast?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ethel, faintly.
+
+"Well, at any rate, you believe in his number--you must."
+
+"His number?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, the number six, six, six--six hundred and sixty-six."
+
+"I really don't understand this," said Ethel.
+
+"Don't you believe that the Sixth Vial is done?"
+
+"Sixth Vial? What, another vial?"
+
+"Yes; and the drying of the Euphrates."
+
+"The Euphrates? drying?" repeated Ethel in a trembling voice. She
+began to be alarmed. She felt sure that this man was insane. She had
+never heard such incoherency in her life. And she was alone with him.
+She stole a timid look, and saw his long, sallow face, on which there
+was now a preoccupied expression, and the look did not reassure her.
+
+But Tozer himself was a little puzzled, and felt sure that his
+companion must have her own opinions on the subject, so he began
+again:
+
+"Now I suppose you've read Fleming on the Papacy?"
+
+"No, I haven't. I never heard of it."
+
+"Strange, too. You've heard of Elliot's 'Horæ Apocalypticæ?', I
+suppose?"
+
+"No," said Ethel, timidly.
+
+"Well, it's all in Cumming--and you've read him, of course?"
+
+"Cumming? I never heard of him. Who is he?"
+
+"What, never heard of Cumming?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"And never read his 'Great Tribulation?'"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor his 'Great Expectation?'"
+
+"No."
+
+"What! not even his 'Apocalyptic Sketches?'"
+
+"I never heard of them."
+
+[Illustration: "TONITRUENDUM EST MALUM!"]
+
+Tozer looked at her in astonishment; but at this moment they came to a
+turn in the road, when a sight appeared which drew from Ethel an
+expression of joy.
+
+It was a little valley on the right, in which was a small hamlet with
+a church. The houses were but small, and could not give them much
+accommodation, but they hoped to find help there.
+
+"I wouldn't trust the people," said Ethel. "I dare say they're all
+brigands; but there ought to be a priest there, and we can appeal to
+him."
+
+This proposal pleased Tozer, who resumed his work of collecting among
+the stores of his memory scraps of Latin which he had once stored away
+there.
+
+The village was at no very great distance away from the road, and they
+reached it in a short time. They went at once to the church. The door
+was open, and a priest, who seemed the village priest, was standing
+there. He was stout, with a good-natured expression on his hearty,
+rosy face, and a fine twinkle in his eye, which lighted up pleasantly
+as he saw the strangers enter.
+
+Tozer at once held out his hand and shook that of the priest.
+
+"Buon giorno," said the priest.
+
+Ethel shook her head.
+
+"Parlate Italiano?" said he.
+
+Ethel shook her head.
+
+"Salve, domine," said Tozer, who at once plunged headlong into Latin.
+
+"Salve bene," said the priest, in some surprise.
+
+"Quomodo vales?" asked Tozer.
+
+"Optime valeo, Dei gratia. Spero vos valere."
+
+Tozer found the priest's pronunciation a little difficult, but managed
+to understand him.
+
+"Domine," said he, "sumus viatores infelices et innocentes, in quos
+fures nuper impetum fecerunt. Omnia bona nostra arripuerunt--"
+
+"Fieri non potest!" said the priest.
+
+"Et omnes amicos nostros in captivitatem lachrymabilem tractaverunt--"
+
+"Cor dolet," said the priest; "miseret me vestrum."
+
+"Cujusmodi terra est hæc in qua sustenendum est tot labores?"
+
+The priest sighed.
+
+"Tonitruendum est malum!" exclaimed Tozer, excited by the recollection
+of his wrongs.
+
+The priest stared.
+
+"In hostium manibus fuimus, et, bonum tonitru! omnia impedimenta
+amissimus. Est nimis omnipotens malum!"
+
+"Quid vis dicere?" said the priest, looking puzzled. "Quid tibi vis?"
+
+"Est nimis sempiternum durum!"
+
+"In nomine omnium sanctorum apostolorumque," cried the priest, "quid
+vis dicere?"
+
+"Potes ne juvare nos," continued Tozer, "in hoc lachrymabile tempore?
+Volo unum verum vivum virum qui possit--"
+
+"Diabolus arripiat me si possim unum solum verbum intelligere!" cried
+the priest. "Be jabers if I ondherstan' yez at all at all; an' there
+ye have it."
+
+And with this the priest raised his head, with its puzzled look, and
+scratched that organ with such a natural air, and with such a full
+Irish flavor in his brogue and in his face, that both of his visitors
+were perfectly astounded.
+
+"Good gracious!" cried Tozer; and seizing the priest's hand in both of
+his, he nearly wrung it off. "Why, what a providence! Why, really,
+now! And you were an Irishman all the time! And why didn't you speak
+English?"
+
+"Sure and what made you spake Latin?" cried the priest. "And what was
+it you were thryin' to say wid yer 'sempiternum durum,' and yer
+'tonitruendum malum?' Sure an' ye made me fairly profeen wid yer talk,
+so ye did."
+
+"Well, I dare say," said Tozer, candidly--"I dare say 'tain't onlikely
+that I _did_ introduce one or two Americanisms in the Latin; but then,
+you know, I ain't been in practice."
+
+The priest now brought chairs for his visitors, and, sitting thus in
+the church, they told him about their adventures, and entreated him to
+do something for them. To all this the priest listened with thoughtful
+attention, and when they were done he at once promised to find horses
+for them which would draw the carriages to this hamlet or to the next
+town. Ethel did not think Lady Dalrymple could go further than this
+place, and the priest offered to find some accommodations.
+
+He then left them, and in about half an hour he returned with two or
+three peasants, each of whom had a horse.
+
+"They'll be able to bring the leedies," said the priest, "and haul the
+impty wagons afther thim."
+
+"I think, miss," said Tozer, "that you'd better stay here. It's too
+far for you to walk."
+
+"Sure an' there's no use in the wide wurruld for _you_ to be goin'
+back," said the priest to Ethel. "You can't do any gud, an' you'd
+betther rist till they come. Yer frind'll be enough."
+
+Ethel at first thought of walking back, but finally she saw that it
+would be quite useless, and so she resolved to remain and wait for her
+aunt. So Tozer went off with the men and the horses, and the priest
+asked Ethel all about the affair once more. Whatever his opinions
+were, he said nothing.
+
+While he was talking there came a man to the door who beckoned him
+out. He went out, and was gone for some time. He came back at last,
+looking very serious.
+
+"I've just got a missage from thim," said he.
+
+"A message," exclaimed Ethel, "from them? What, from Girasole?"
+
+"Yis. They want a praste, and they've sint for me."
+
+"A priest?"
+
+"Yis; an' they want a maid-servant to wait on the young leedies; and
+they want thim immajitly; an' I'll have to start off soon. There's a
+man dead among thim that wants to be put undherground to-night, for
+the rist av thim are goin' off in the mornin'; an' accordin' to all I
+hear, I wouldn't wondher but what I'd be wanted for somethin' else
+afore mornin'."
+
+"Oh, my God!" cried Ethel; "they're going to kill him, then!"
+
+"Kill him! Kill who? Sure an' it's not killin' they want me for. It's
+the other--it's marryin'."
+
+"Marrying?" cried Ethel. "Poor, darling Minnie! Oh, you can not--you
+will not marry them?"
+
+"Sure an' I don't know but it's the best thing I can do--as things
+are," said the priest.
+
+"Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!" moaned Ethel.
+
+"Well, ye've got to bear up, so ye have. There's throubles for all of
+us, an' lots av thim too; an' more'n some av us can bear."
+
+Ethel sat in the darkest and bitterest grief for some time, a prey to
+thoughts and fears that were perfect agony to her.
+
+At last a thought came to her which made her start, and look up, and
+cast at the priest a look full of wonder and entreaty. The priest
+watched her with the deepest sympathy visible on his face.
+
+"We must save them!" she cried.
+
+"Sure an' it's me that made up me moind to that same," said the
+priest, "only I didn't want to rise yer hopes."
+
+"_We_ must save them," said Ethel, with strong emphasis.
+
+"_We?_ What can you do?"
+
+Ethel got up, walked to the church door, looked out, came back, looked
+anxiously all around, and then, resuming her seat, she drew close to
+the priest, and began to whisper, long and anxiously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK.
+
+
+When Dacres had sprung aside into the woods in the moment of his
+fierce rush upon Girasole, he had been animated by a sudden thought
+that escape for himself was possible, and that it would be more
+serviceable to his friends. Thus, then, he had bounded into the woods,
+and with swift steps he forced his way among the trees deeper and
+deeper into the forest. Some of the brigands had given chase, but
+without effect. Dacres's superior strength and agility gave him the
+advantage, and his love of life was a greater stimulus than their
+thirst for vengeance. In addition to this the trees gave every
+assistance toward the escape of a fugitive, while they threw every
+impediment in the way of a pursuer. The consequence was, therefore,
+that Dacres soon put a great distance between himself and his
+pursuers, and, what is more, he ran in such a circuitous route that
+they soon lost all idea of their own locality, and had not the
+faintest idea where he had gone. In this respect, however, Dacres
+himself was not one whit wiser than they, for he soon found himself
+completely bewildered in the mazes of the forest; and when at length
+the deep silence around gave no further sound of pursuers, he sank
+down to take breath, with no idea whatever in what direction the road
+lay.
+
+After a brief rest he arose and plunged deeper still into the forest,
+so as to put an additional distance between himself and any possible
+pursuit. He at length found himself at the foot of a precipice about
+fifty feet in height, which was deep in the recesses of the forest. Up
+this he climbed, and found a mossy place among the trees at its top,
+where he could find rest, and at the same time be in a more favorable
+position either for hearing or seeing any signs of approaching
+pursuers.
+
+Here, then, he flung himself down to rest, and soon buried himself
+among thoughts of the most exciting kind. The scene which he had just
+left was fresh in his mind, and amidst all the fury of that strife
+there rose most prominent in his memory the form of the two ladies,
+Minnie standing calm and unmoved, while Mrs. Willoughby was convulsed
+with agitated feeling. What was the cause of that? Could it be
+possible that his wife had indeed contrived such a plot with the
+Italian? Was it possible that she had chosen this way of striking two
+blows, by one of which she could win her Italian, and by the other of
+which she could get rid of himself, her husband? Such had been his
+conjecture during the fury of the fight, and the thought had roused
+him up to his Berserker madness; but now, as it recurred again, he saw
+other things to shake his full belief. Her agitation seemed too
+natural.
+
+Yet, on the other hand, he asked himself, why should she not show
+agitation? She was a consummate actress. She could show on her
+beautiful face the softness and the tenderness of an angel of light
+while a demon reigned in her malignant heart. Why should she not
+choose this way of keeping up appearances? She had betrayed her
+friends, and sought her husband's death; but would she wish to have
+her crime made manifest? Not she. It was for this, then, that she wept
+and clung to the child-angel.
+
+Such thoughts as these were not at all adapted to give comfort to his
+mind, or make his rest refreshing. Soon, by such fancies, he kindled
+anew his old rage, and his blood rose to fever heat, so that inaction
+became no longer tolerable. He had rest enough. He started up, and
+looked all around, and listened attentively. No sound arose and no
+sight appeared which at all excited suspicion. He determined to set
+forth once more, he scarcely knew where. He had a vague idea of
+finding his way back to the road, so as to be able to assist the
+ladies, together with another idea, equally ill defined, of coming
+upon the brigands, finding the Italian, and watching for an
+opportunity to wreak vengeance upon this assassin and his guilty
+partner.
+
+He drew his knife once more from a leathern sheath on the inside of
+the breast of his coat, into which he had thrust it some time before,
+and holding this he set forth, watchfully and warily. On the left side
+of the precipice the ground sloped down, and at the bottom of this
+there was a narrow valley. It seemed to him that this might be the
+course of some spring torrent, and that by following its descent he
+might come out upon some stream. With this intention he descended to
+the valley, and then walked along, following the descent of the
+ground, and keeping himself as much as possible among the thickest
+growths of the trees.
+
+The ground descended very gradually, and the narrow valley wound along
+among rolling hills that were covered with trees and brush. As he
+confined himself to the thicker parts of this, his progress was
+necessarily slow; but at the end of that turn he saw before him
+unmistakable signs of the neighborhood of some open place. Before him
+he saw the sky in such a way that it showed the absence of forest
+trees. He now moved on more cautiously, and, quitting the valley, he
+crept up the hill-slope among the brush as carefully as possible,
+until he was at a sufficient height, and then, turning toward the
+open, he crept forward from cover to cover. At length he stopped. A
+slight eminence was before him, beyond which all was open, yet
+concealed from his view. Descending the slope a little, he once more
+advanced, and finally emerged at the edge of the forest.
+
+He found himself upon a gentle declivity. Immediately in front of him
+lay a lake, circular in shape, and about a mile in diameter, embosomed
+among wooded hills. At first he saw no signs of any habitation; but as
+his eyes wandered round he saw upon his right, about a quarter of a
+mile away, an old stone house, and beyond this smoke curling up from
+among the forest trees on the borders of the lake.
+
+The scene startled him. It was so quiet, so lonely, and so deserted
+that it seemed a fit place for a robber's haunt. Could this be indeed
+the home of his enemies, and had he thus so wonderfully come upon them
+in the very midst of their retreat? He believed that it was so. A
+little further observation showed figures among the trees moving to
+and fro, and soon he distinguished faint traces of smoke in other
+places, which he had not seen at first, as though there were more
+fires than one.
+
+Dacres exulted with a fierce and vengeful joy over this discovery. He
+felt now not like the fugitive, but rather the pursuer. He looked down
+upon this as the tiger looks from his jungle upon some Indian village.
+His foes were numerous, but he was concealed, and his presence
+unsuspected. He grasped his dagger with a firmer clutch, and then
+pondered for a few minutes on what he had better do next.
+
+One thing was necessary first of all, and that was to get as near as
+he possibly could without discovery. A slight survey of the situation
+showed him that he might venture much nearer; and his eye ran along
+the border of the lake which lay between him and the old house, and he
+saw that it was all covered over with a thick fringe of trees and
+brush-wood. The narrow valley along which he had come ended at the
+shore of the lake just below him on his right, and beyond this the
+shore arose again to a height equal to where he now was. To gain that
+opposite height was now his first task.
+
+Before starting he looked all around, so as to be sure that he was not
+observed. Then he went back for some distance, after which he
+descended into the valley, crouching low, and crawling stealthily
+among the brush-wood. Moving thus, he at length succeeded in reaching
+the opposite slope without appearing to have attracted any attention
+from any pursuers. Up this slope he now moved as carefully as ever,
+not relaxing his vigilance one jot, but, if possible, calling into
+play even a larger caution as he found himself drawing nearer to those
+whom he began to regard as his prey.
+
+Moving up this slope, then, in this way, he at length attained the
+top, and found himself here among the forest trees and underbrush.
+They were here even denser than they were on the place which he had
+just left. As he moved along he saw no indications that they had been
+traversed by human footsteps. Every thing gave indication of an
+unbroken and undisturbed solitude. After feeling his way along here
+with all the caution which he could exercise, he finally ventured
+toward the shore of the lake, and found himself able to go to the very
+edge without coming to any open space or crossing any path.
+
+On looking forth from the top of the bank he found that he had not
+only drawn much nearer to the old house, but that he could see the
+whole line of shore. He now saw that there were some men by the door
+of the house, and began to suspect that this was nothing else than the
+headquarters and citadel of the brigands. The sight of the shore now
+showed him that he could approach very much nearer, and unless the
+brigands, or whoever they were, kept scouts out, he would be able to
+reach a point immediately overlooking the house, from which he could
+survey it at his leisure. To reach this point became now his next aim.
+
+The wood being dense, Dacres found no more difficulty in passing
+through this than in traversing what lay behind him. The caution which
+he exercised here was as great as ever, and his progress was as slow,
+but as sure. At length he found himself upon the desired point, and,
+crawling cautiously forward to the shore, he looked down upon the very
+old house which he had desired to reach.
+
+The house stood close by the lake, upon a sloping bank which lay
+below. It did not seem to be more than fifty yards away. The doors and
+windows were gone. Five or six ill-looking fellows were near the
+doorway, some sprawling on the ground, others lolling and lounging
+about. One glance at the men was sufficient to assure him that they
+were the brigands, and also to show him that they kept no guard or
+scout or outpost of any kind, at least in this direction.
+
+Here, then, Dacres lay and watched. He could not wish for a better
+situation. With his knife in his hand, ready to defend himself in case
+of need, and his whole form concealed perfectly by the thick
+underbrush into the midst of which he had crawled, he peered forth
+through the overhanging leaves, and watched in breathless interest.
+From the point where he now was he could see the shore beyond the
+house, where the smoke was rising. He could now see that there were no
+less than four different columns of smoke ascending from as many
+fires. He saw as many as twenty or thirty figures moving among the
+trees, made conspicuous by the bright colors of their costumes. They
+seemed to be busy about something which he could not make out.
+
+Suddenly, while his eye roved over the scene, it was struck by some
+fluttering color at the open window of the old house. He had not
+noticed this before. He now looked at it attentively. Before long he
+saw a figure cross the window and return. It was a female figure.
+
+The sight of this revived all that agitation which he had felt before,
+but which had been calmed during the severe efforts which he had been
+putting forth. There was but one thought in his mind, and but one
+desire in his heart.
+
+His wife.
+
+He crouched low, with a more feverish dread of discovery at this
+supreme moment, and a fiercer thirst for some further revelation which
+might disclose what he suspected. His breathing came thick and hard,
+and his brow lowered gloomily over his gleaming eyes.
+
+He waited thus for some minutes, and the figure passed again.
+
+He still watched.
+
+Suddenly a figure appeared at the window. It was a young girl, a
+blonde, with short golden curls. The face was familiar indeed to him.
+Could he ever forget it? There it was full before him, turned toward
+him, as though that one, by some strange spiritual sympathy, was aware
+of his presence, and was thus turning toward him this mute appeal. Her
+face was near enough for its expression to be visible. He could
+distinguish the childish face, with its soft, sweet innocence, and he
+knew that upon it there was now that piteous, pleading, beseeching
+look which formerly had so thrilled his heart. And it was thus that
+Dacres saw his child-angel.
+
+A prisoner, turning toward him this appeal! What was the cause, and
+what did the Italian want of this innocent child? Such was his
+thought. What could his fiend of a wife gain by the betrayal of that
+angelic being? Was it possible that even her demon soul could compass
+iniquity like this? He had thought that he had fathomed her capacity
+for malignant wickedness; but the presence here of the child-angel in
+the power of these miscreants showed him that this capacity was indeed
+unfathomable. At this sudden revelation of sin so enormous his very
+soul turned sick with horror.
+
+He watched, and still looked with an anxiety that was increasing to
+positive pain.
+
+And now, after one brief glance, Minnie drew back into the room. There
+was nothing more to be seen for some time, but at last another figure
+appeared.
+
+He expected this; he was waiting for it; he was sure of it; yet deep
+down in the bottom of his heart there was a hope that it might not be
+so, that his suspicions, in this case at least, might be unfounded.
+But now the proof came; it was made manifest here before his eyes, and
+in the light of day.
+
+In spite of himself a low groan escaped him. He buried his face in his
+hands and shut out the sight. Then suddenly he raised his head again
+and stared, as though in this face there was an irresistible
+fascination by which a spell was thrown over him.
+
+It was the face of Mrs. Willoughby--youthful, beautiful, and touching
+in its tender grace. Tears were now in those dark, luminous eyes, but
+they were unseen by him. Yet he could mark the despondency of her
+attitude; he could see a certain wild way of looking up and down and
+in all directions; he noted how her hands grasped the window-ledge as
+if for support.
+
+And oh, beautiful demon angel, he thought, if you could but know how
+near you are to the avenger! Why are you so anxious, my demon wife?
+Are you impatient because your Italian is delaying? Can you not live
+for five seconds longer without him? Are you looking in all directions
+to see where he is? Don't fret; he'll soon be here.
+
+And now there came a confirmation of his thoughts. He was not
+surprised; he knew it; he suspected it. It was all as it should be.
+Was it not in the confident expectation of this that he had come here
+with his dagger--on their trail?
+
+It was Girasole.
+
+He came from the place, further along the shore, where the brigands
+were around their fires. He was walking quickly. He had a purpose. It
+was with a renewed agony that Dacres watched his enemy--coming to
+visit his wife. The intensity of that thirst for vengeance, which had
+now to be checked until a better opportunity, made his whole frame
+tremble. A wild desire came to him then and there to bound down upon
+his enemy, and kill and be killed in the presence of his wife. But the
+other brigands deterred him. These men might interpose and save the
+Italian, and make him a prisoner. No; he must wait till he could meet
+his enemy on something like equal terms--when he could strike a blow
+that would not be in vain. Thus he overmastered himself.
+
+He saw Girasole enter the house. He watched breathlessly. The time
+seemed long indeed. He could not hear any thing; the conversation, if
+there was any, was carried on in a low tone. He could not see any
+thing; those who conversed kept quiet; no one passed in front of the
+window. It was all a mystery, and this made the time seem longer. At
+length Dacres began to think that Girasole would not go at all. A long
+time passed. Hours went away, and still Girasole did not quit the
+house.
+
+It was now sundown. Dacres had eaten nothing since morning, but the
+conflict of passion drove away all hunger or thirst. The approach of
+darkness was in accordance with his own gloomy wishes. Twilight in
+Italy is short. Night would soon be over all.
+
+The house was on the slope of the bank. At the corner nearest him the
+house was sunk into the ground in such a way that it looked as though
+one might climb into the upper story window. As Dacres looked he made
+up his mind to attempt it. By standing here on tiptoe he could catch
+the upper window-ledge with his hands. He was strong. He was tall. His
+enemy was in the house. The hour was at hand. He was the man.
+
+Another hour passed.
+
+All was still.
+
+There was a flickering lamp in the hall, but the men seemed to be
+asleep.
+
+Another hour passed.
+
+There was no noise.
+
+Then Dacres ventured down. He moved slowly and cautiously, crouching
+low, and thus traversing the intervening space.
+
+He neared the house and touched it. Before him was the window of the
+lower story. Above him was the window of the upper story. He lifted up
+his hands. They could reach the window-ledge.
+
+He put his long, keen knife between his teeth, and caught at the upper
+window-ledge. Exerting all his strength, he raised himself up so high
+that he could fling one elbow over. For a moment he hung thus, and
+waited to take breath and listen.
+
+There was a rush below. Half a dozen shadowy forms surrounded him. He
+had been seen. He had been trapped.
+
+He dropped down and, seizing his knife, struck right and left.
+
+In vain. He was hurled to the ground and bound tight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+FACE TO FACE.
+
+
+Hawbury, on his capture, had been at once taken into the woods, and
+led and pushed on by no gentle hands. He had thus gone on until he had
+found himself by that same lake which others of the party had come
+upon in the various ways which have been described. Toward this lake
+he was taken, until finally his party reached the old house, which
+they entered. It has already been said that it was a two-story house.
+It was also of stone, and strongly built. The door was in the middle
+of it, and rooms were on each side of the hall. The interior plan of
+the house was peculiar, for the hall did not run through, but
+consisted of a square room, and the stone steps wound spirally from
+the lower hall to the upper one. There were three rooms up stairs, one
+taking up one end of the house, which was occupied by Mrs. Willoughby
+and Minnie; another in the rear of the house, into which a door opened
+from the upper hall, close by the head of the stairs; and a third,
+which was opposite the room first mentioned.
+
+Hawbury was taken to this house, and led up stairs into this room in
+the rear of the house. At the end farthest from the door he saw a heap
+of straw with a few dirty rugs upon it. In the wall a beam was set, to
+which an iron ring was fastened. He was taken toward this bed, and
+here his legs were bound together, and the rope that secured them was
+run around the iron ring so as to allow of no more motion than a few
+feet. Having thus secured the prisoner, the men left him to his own
+meditations.
+
+The room was perfectly bare of furniture, nothing being in it but the
+straw and the dirty rugs. Hawbury could not approach to the windows,
+for he was bound in a way which prevented that. In fact, he could not
+move in any direction, for his arms and legs were fastened in such a
+way that he could scarcely raise himself from where he was sitting. He
+therefore was compelled to remain in one position, and threw himself
+down upon the straw on his side, with his face to the wall, for he
+found that position easier than any other. In this way he lay for some
+time, until at length he was roused by the sound of footsteps
+ascending the stairs. Several people were passing his room. He heard
+the voice of Girasole. He listened with deep attention. For some time
+there was no reply. At length there was the sound of a woman's
+voice--clear, plain, and unmistakable. It was a fretful voice of
+complaint. Girasole was trying to answer it. After a time Girasole
+left. Then all was still. Then Girasole returned. Then there was a
+clattering noise on the stairs, and the bumping of some heavy weight,
+and the heavy breathing of men. Then he heard Girasole say something,
+after which arose Minnie's voice, close by, as though she was in the
+hall, and her words were, "Oh, take it away, take it away!" followed
+by long reproaches, which Hawbury did not fully understand.
+
+This showed him that Minnie, at least, was a prisoner, and in this
+house, and in the adjoining room, along with some one whom he rightly
+supposed was Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+After this there was a further silence for some time, which at last
+was broken by fresh sounds of trampling and shuffling, together with
+the confused directions of several voices all speaking at once.
+Hawbury listened, and turned on his couch of straw so as to see any
+thing which presented itself. The clatter and the noise approached
+nearer, ascending the stairs, until at last he saw that they were
+entering his room. Two of the brigands came first, carrying something
+carefully. In a few moments the burden which they bore was revealed.
+
+It was a rude litter, hastily made from bushes fastened together. Upon
+this lay the dead body of a man, his white face upturned, and his
+limbs stiffened in the rigidity of death. Hawbury did not remember
+very distinctly any of the particular events of his confused struggle
+with the brigands; but he was not at all surprised to see that there
+had been one of the ruffians sent to his account. The brigands who
+carried in their dead companion looked at the captive with a sullen
+ferocity and a scowling vengefulness, which showed plainly that they
+would demand of him a reckoning for their comrade's blood if it were
+only in their power. But they did not delay, nor did they make any
+actual demonstrations to Hawbury. They placed the corpse of their
+comrade upon the floor in the middle of the room, and then went out.
+
+The presence of the corpse only added to the gloom of Hawbury's
+situation, and he once more turned his face to the wall, so as to shut
+out the sight. Once more he gave himself up to his own thoughts, and
+so the time passed slowly on. He heard no sounds now from the room
+where Miss Fay was confined. He heard no noise from the men below, and
+could not tell whether they were still guarding the door, or had gone
+away. Various projects came to him, foremost among which was the idea
+of escaping. Bribery seemed the only possible way. There was about
+this, however, the same difficulty which Mrs. Willoughby had
+found--his ignorance of the language. He thought that this would be an
+effectual bar to any communication, and saw no other alternative than
+to wait Girasole's pleasure. It seemed to him that a ransom would be
+asked, and he felt sure, from Girasole's offensive manner, that the
+ransom would be large. But there was no help for it. He felt more
+troubled about Miss Fay; for Girasole's remarks about her seemed to
+point to views of his own which were incompatible with her liberation.
+
+In the midst of these reflections another noise arose below. It was a
+steady tramp of two or three men walking. The noise ascended the
+stairway, and drew nearer and nearer. Hawbury turned once more, and
+saw two men entering the room, carrying between them a box about six
+feet long and eighteen inches or two feet wide. It was coarsely but
+strongly made, and was undoubtedly intended as a coffin for the corpse
+of the brigand. The men put the coffin down against the wall and
+retired. After a few minutes they returned again with the coffin lid.
+They then lifted the dead body into the coffin, and one of them put
+the lid in its place and secured it with half a dozen screws. After
+this Hawbury was once more left alone. He found this far more
+tolerable, for now he had no longer before his very eyes the abhorrent
+sight of the dead body. Hidden in its coffin, it no longer gave
+offense to his sensibilities. Once more, therefore, Hawbury turned his
+thoughts toward projects of escape, and discussed in his mind the
+probabilities for and against.
+
+The day had been long, and longer still did it seem to the captive as
+hour after hour passed slowly by. He could not look at his watch,
+which his captors had spared; but from the shadows as they fell
+through the windows, and from the general appearance of the sky, he
+knew that the close of the day was not far off. He began to wonder
+that he was left so long alone and in suspense, and to feel impatient
+to know the worst as to his fate. Why did not some of them come to
+tell him? Where was Girasole? Was he the chief? Were the brigands
+debating about his fate, or were they thus leaving him in suspense so
+as to make him despondent and submissive to their terms? From all that
+he had ever heard of brigands and their ways, the latter seemed not
+unlikely; and this thought made him see the necessity of guarding
+himself against being too impatient for freedom, and too compliant
+with any demands of theirs.
+
+From these thoughts he was at last roused by footsteps which ascended
+the stairs. He turned and looked toward the door. A man entered.
+
+It was Girasole.
+
+He entered slowly, with folded arms, and coming about half-way, he
+stood and surveyed the prisoner in silence. Hawbury, with a sudden
+effort, brought himself up to a sitting posture, and calmly surveyed
+the Italian.
+
+"Well," asked Hawbury, "I should like to know how long you intend to
+keep up this sort of thing? What are you going to do about it? Name
+your price, man, and we'll discuss it, and settle upon something
+reasonable."
+
+"My price?" repeated Girasole, with peculiar emphasis.
+
+"Yes. Of course I understand you fellows. It's your trade, you know.
+You've caught me, and, of course, you'll try to make the best of me,
+and all that sort of thing. So don't keep me waiting."
+
+"Inglis milor," said Girasole, with a sharp, quick accent, his face
+flushing up as he spoke--"Inglis milor, dere is no price as you mean,
+an' no ransom. De price is one dat you will not wis to pay."
+
+"Oh, come, now, my good fellow, really you must remember that I'm tied
+up, and not in a position to be chaffed. Bother your Italian humbug!
+Don't speak in these confounded figures of speech, you know, but say
+up and down--how much?"
+
+"De brigands haf talk you ovair, an' dey will haf no price."
+
+"What the devil is all that rot about?"
+
+"Dey will haf youair blood."
+
+"My blood?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And pray, my good fellow, what good is that going to do them?"
+
+"It is vengeance," said Girasole.
+
+"Vengeance? Pooh! Nonsense! What rot! What have I ever done?"
+
+"Dat--dere--his blood," said Girasole, pointing to the coffin.
+
+"What! that scoundrel? Why, man alive, are you crazy? That was a fair
+stand-up fight. That is, it was two English against twenty Italians,
+if you call that fair; but perhaps it is. His blood! By Jove! Cool,
+that! Come, I like it."
+
+"An' more," said Girasole, who now grew more excited. "It is not de
+brigand who condemn you; it is also me. I condemn you."
+
+"You?" said Hawbury, elevating his eyebrows in some surprise, and
+fixing a cool stare upon Girasole. "And what the devil's _this_ row
+about, I should like to know? I don't know _you_. What have you
+against _me_?"
+
+"Inglis milor," cried Girasole, who was stung to the quick by a
+certain indescribable yet most irritating superciliousness in
+Hawbury's tone--"Inglis milor, you sall see what you sall soffair. You
+sall die! Dere is no hope. You are condemn by de brigand. You also are
+condemn by me, for you insult me."
+
+"Well, of all the beastly rot I ever heard, this is about the worst!
+What do you mean by all this infernal nonsense? Insult you! What would
+I insult you for? Why, man alive, you're as mad as a March hare! If I
+thought you were a gentleman, I'd--by Jove, I will, too! See here, you
+fellow: I'll fight you for it--pistols, or any thing. Come, now. I'll
+drop all considerations of rank. I'll treat you as if you were a real
+count, and not a sham one. Come, now. What do you say? Shall we have
+it out? Pistols--in the woods there. You've got all your infernal crew
+around you, you know. Well? What? You won't? By Jove!"
+
+Girasole's gesture showed that he declined the proposition.
+
+"Inglis milor," said he, with a venomous glitter in his eyes, "I sall
+haf youair life--wis de pistol, but not in de duello. I sall blow your
+brain out myself."
+
+"Blow and be hanged, then!" said Hawbury.
+
+And with these words he fell back on his straw, and took no further
+notice of the Italian.
+
+[Illustration: "INGLIS MILOR, I SALL HAF YOUAIR LIFE."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+TORN ASUNDER.
+
+
+When Dacres made his attempt upon the house he was not so unobserved
+as he supposed himself to be. Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby happened at
+that time to be sitting on the floor by the window, one on each side,
+and they were looking out. They had chosen the seat as affording some
+prospect of the outer world. There was in Mrs. Willoughby a certain
+instinctive feeling that if any rescue came, it would come from the
+land side; and, therefore, though the hope was faint indeed, it
+nevertheless was sufficiently well defined to inspire her with an
+uneasy and incessant vigilance. Thus, then, she had seated herself by
+the window, and Minnie had taken her place on the opposite side, and
+the two sisters, with clasped hands, sat listening to the voices of
+the night.
+
+At length they became aware of a movement upon the bank just above
+them and lying opposite. The sisters clasped one another's hands more
+closely, and peered earnestly through the gloom. It was pretty dark,
+and the forest threw down a heavy shadow, but still their eyes were by
+this time accustomed to the dark, and they could distinguish most of
+the objects there. Among these they soon distinguished a moving
+figure; but what it was, whether man or beast, they could not make
+out.
+
+This moving figure was crawling down the bank. There was no cover to
+afford concealment, and it was evident that he was trusting altogether
+to the concealment of the darkness. It was a hazardous experiment, and
+Mrs. Willoughby trembled in suspense.
+
+Minnie, however, did not tremble at all, nor was the suspense at all
+painful. When Mrs. Willoughby first cautiously directed her attention
+to it in a whisper, Minnie thought it was some animal.
+
+"Why, Kitty dear," she said, speaking back in a whisper, "why, it's an
+animal; I wonder if the creature is a wild beast. I'm sure I think
+it's very dangerous, and no doors or windows. But it's _always_ the
+way. He wouldn't give me a chair; and so I dare say I shall be eaten
+up by a bear before morning."
+
+Minnie gave utterance to this expectation without the slightest
+excitement, just as though the prospect of becoming food for a bear
+was one of the very commonest incidents of her life.
+
+"Oh, I don't think it's a bear."
+
+"Well, then, it's a tiger or a lion, or perhaps a wolf. I'm sure _I_
+don't see what difference it makes what one is eaten by, when one
+_has_ to be eaten."
+
+"It's a man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, tremulously.
+
+"A man!--nonsense, Kitty darling. A man walks; he doesn't go on
+all-fours, except when he is very, very small."
+
+"Hush! it's some one coming to help us. Watch him, Minnie dear. Oh,
+how dangerous!"
+
+"Do you really think so?" said Minnie, with evident pleasure. "Now
+that is really kind. But I wonder who it _can_ be?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby squeezed her hand, and made no reply. She was watching
+the slow and cautious movement of the shadowy figure.
+
+"He's coming nearer!" said she, tremulously.
+
+Minnie felt her sister's hand throb at the quick movement of her
+heart, and heard her short, quick breathing.
+
+"Who _can_ it be, I wonder?" said Minnie, full of curiosity, but
+without any excitement at all.
+
+"Oh, Minnie!"
+
+"What's the matter, darling?"
+
+"It's so terrible."
+
+"What?"
+
+"This suspense. Oh, I'm so afraid!"
+
+"Afraid! Why, I'm not afraid at all."
+
+"Oh! he'll be caught."
+
+"No, he won't," said Minnie, confidently. "I _knew_ he'd come. They
+_always_ do. Don't be afraid that he'll be caught, or that he'll fail.
+They _never_ fail. They always _will_ save me. Wait till your life has
+been saved as often as mine has, Kitty darling. Oh, I expected it all!
+I was thinking a little while ago he ought to be here soon."
+
+"He! Who?"
+
+"Why, any person; the person who is going to save me this time. I
+don't know, of course, who he is; some horrid man, of course. And
+then--oh dear!--I'll have it all over again. He'll carry me away on
+his back, and through those wretched woods, and bump me against the
+trees and things. Then he'll get me to the road, and put me on a
+horrid old horse, and gallop away. And by that time it will be
+morning. And then he'll propose. And so there'll be another. And I
+don't know what I _shall_ do about it. Oh dear!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby had not heard half of this. All her soul was intent
+upon the figure outside. She only pressed her sister's hand, and gave
+a warning "Hus-s-s-h!"
+
+"I know one thing I _do_ wish," said Minnie.
+
+Her sister made no reply.
+
+"I do wish it would turn out to be that nice, dear, good, kind Rufus
+K. Gunn. I don't want any more of them. And I'm sure he's nicer than
+this horrid Count, who wouldn't take the trouble to get me even a
+chair. And yet he pretends to be fond of me."
+
+"Hus-s-s-h!" said her sister.
+
+But Minnie was irrepressible.
+
+"I don't want any horrid stranger. But, oh, Kitty darling, it would be
+so awfully funny if he were to be caught! and then he _couldn't_
+propose, you know."
+
+By this time the figure had reached the house. Minnie peeped over and
+looked down. Then she drew back her head and sighed.
+
+"Oh dear!" she said, in a plaintive tone.
+
+"What, darling?"
+
+"Why, Kitty darling, do you know he really looks a little like that
+great, big, horrid man that ran with me down the volcano, and then
+pretended he was my dear papa. And here he comes to save me again. Oh,
+what _shall_ I do? Won't you pretend you're me, Kitty darling, and
+please go yourself? Oh, ple-e-ease do!"
+
+But now Minnie was interrupted by two strong hands grasping the
+window-sill. A moment after a shadowy head arose above it. Mrs.
+Willoughby started back, but through the gloom she was able to
+recognize the strongly marked face of Scone Dacres.
+
+For a moment he stared through the darkness. Then he flung his elbow
+over.
+
+There arose a noise below. There was a rush. The figure disappeared
+from the window. A furious struggle followed, in the midst of which
+arose fierce oaths and deep breathings, and the sound of blows. Then
+the struggle subsided, and they heard footsteps tramping heavily. They
+followed the sound into the house. They heard men coming up the stairs
+and into the hall outside. Then they all moved into, the front-room
+opposite theirs. After a few minutes they heard the steps descending
+the stairs. By this they judged that the prisoner had been taken to
+that room which was on the other side of the hall and in the front of
+the house.
+
+"There dies our last hope!" said Mrs. Willoughby, and burst into
+tears.
+
+"I'm sure I don't see what you're crying about," said Minnie. "You
+certainly oughtn't to want me to be carried off again by that person.
+If he had me, he'd _never_ give me up--especially after saving me
+twice."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby made no reply, and the sisters sat in silence for
+nearly an hour. They were then aroused by the approach of footsteps
+which entered the house; after which voices were heard below.
+
+Then some one ascended the stairs, and they saw the flicker of a
+light. It was Girasole.
+
+He came into the room with a small lamp, holding his hand in front of
+the flame. This lamp he set down in a corner out of the draught, and
+then turned to the ladies.
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole, in a gentle voice, "I am ver pained to haf to
+tella you dat it is necessaire for you to separat dis night--till
+to-morra."
+
+"To separate?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Only till to-morra, miladi. Den you sall be togeder foravva. But it
+is now necessaire. Dere haf ben an attemp to a rescue. I mus guard
+again dis--an' it mus be done by a separazion. If you are togeder you
+might run. Dis man was almos up here. It was only chance dat I saw him
+in time."
+
+"Oh, Sir," cried Mrs. Willoughby, "you can not--you will not separate
+us. You can not have the heart to. I promise most solemnly that we
+will not escape if you only leave us together."
+
+Girasole shook his head.
+
+"I can not," said he, firmly; "de mees is too precious. I dare not. If
+you are prisonaire se will not try to fly, an' so I secure her de
+more; but if you are togeder you will find some help. You will bribe
+de men. I can not trust dem."
+
+"Oh, do not separate us. Tie us. Bind us. Fasten us with chains.
+Fasten me with chains, but leave me with her."
+
+"Chains? nonsance; dat is impossibile. Chains? no, miladi. You sall be
+treat beautiful. No chain, no; notin but affection--till to-morra, an'
+den de mees sall be my wife. De priest haf come, an' it sall be
+allaright to-morra, an' you sall be wit her again. An' now you haf to
+come away; for if you do not be pleasant, I sall not be able to 'low
+you to stay to-morra wit de mees when se become my Contessa."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby flung her arms about her sister, and clasped her in a
+convulsive embrace.
+
+"Well, Kitty darling," said Minnie, "don't cry, or you'll make me cry
+too. It's just what we might have expected, you know. He's been as
+unkind as he could be about the chair, and of course he'll do all he
+can to tease me. Don't cry, dear. You must go, I suppose, since that
+horrid man talks and scolds so about it; only be sure to be back
+early; but how I am _ever_ to pass the night here all alone and
+standing up, I'm sure _I_ don't know."
+
+"Alone? Oh no," said Girasole. "Charming mees, you sall not be alone;
+I haf guard for dat. I haf sent for a maid."
+
+"But I don't want any of your horrid old maids. I want my own maid, or
+none at all."
+
+"Se sall be your own maid. I haf sent for her."
+
+"What, my own maid?--Dowlas?"
+
+"I am ver sorry, but it is not dat one. It is anoder--an Italian."
+
+"Well, I think that is _very_ unkind, when you _know_ I can't speak a
+word of the language. But you _always_ do all you can to tease me. I
+_wish_ I had never seen you."
+
+Girasole looked hurt.
+
+"Charming mees," said he, "I will lay down my life for you."
+
+"But I don't want you to lay down your life. I want Dowlas."
+
+"And you sall haf Dowlas to-morra. An' to-night you sall haf de
+Italian maid."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must," said Minnie, resignedly.
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole, turning to Mrs. Willoughby, "I am ver sorry
+for dis leetle accommodazion. De room where you mus go is de one where
+I haf put de man dat try to safe you. He is tied fast. You mus promis
+you will not loose him. Haf you a knife?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Willoughby, in a scarce audible tone.
+
+"Do not mourn. You sall be able to talk to de prisonaire and get
+consolazion. But come."
+
+With these words Girasole led the way out into the hall, and into the
+front-room on the opposite side. He carried the lamp in his hand. Mrs.
+Willoughby saw a figure lying at the other end of the room on the
+floor. His face was turned toward them, but in the darkness she could
+not see it plainly. Some straw was heaped up in the corner next her.
+
+"Dere," said Girasole, "is your bed. I am sorra. Do not be trouble."
+
+With this he went away.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby flung herself on her knees, and bowed her head and
+wept convulsively. She heard the heavy step of Girasole as he went
+down stairs. Her first impulse was to rush back to her sister. But she
+dreaded discovery, and felt that disobedience would only make her fate
+harder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+FOUND AT LAST.
+
+
+In a few moments Girasole came back and entered Minnie's room. He was
+followed by a woman who was dressed in the garb of an Italian peasant
+girl. Over her head she wore a hood to protect her from the night air,
+the limp folds of which hung over her face. Minnie looked carelessly
+at this woman and then at Girasole.
+
+"Charming mees," said Girasole, "I haf brought you a maid for dis
+night. When we leaf dis you sall haf what maid you wis."
+
+"That horrid old fright!" said Minnie. "I don't want her."
+
+"You sall only haf her for dis night," said Girasole. "You will be
+taken care for."
+
+"I suppose nobody cares for what _I_ want," said Minnie, "and I may as
+well speak to the wall, for all the good it does."
+
+[Illustration: "ONE ARM WENT AROUND HER NECK."]
+
+Girasole smiled and bowed, and put his hand on his heart, and then
+called down the stairs:
+
+"Padre Patricio!"
+
+A solid, firm step now sounded on the stairs, and in a few moments the
+priest came up. Girasole led the way into Hawbury's room. The prisoner
+lay on his side. He was in a deep sleep. Girasole looked in wonder at
+the sleeper who was spending in this way the last hours of his life,
+and then pointed to the coffin.
+
+"Here," said he, in Italian, "is the body. When the grave is dug they
+will tell you. You must stay here. You will not be afraid to be with
+the dead."
+
+The priest smiled.
+
+Girasole now retreated and went down stairs.
+
+Soon all was still.
+
+The Italian woman had been standing where she had stopped ever since
+she first came into the room. Minnie had not paid any attention to
+her, but at last she noticed this.
+
+"I _wish_ you wouldn't stand there in that way. You really make me
+feel quite nervous. And what with the dark, and not having any light,
+and losing poor dear Kitty, and not having any chair to sit upon,
+really one's life is scarce worth having. But all this is thrown away,
+as you can't speak English--and how horrid it is to have no one to
+talk to."
+
+The woman made no reply, but with a quiet, stealthy step she drew near
+to Minnie.
+
+"What do you want? You horrid creature, keep away," said Minnie,
+drawing back in some alarm.
+
+"Minnie dear!" said the woman. "H-s-s-s-h!" she added, in a low
+whisper.
+
+Minnie started.
+
+"Who are you?" she whispered.
+
+One arm went around her neck, and another hand went over her mouth,
+and the woman drew nearer to her.
+
+"Not a word. H-s-s-s-h! I've risked my life. The priest brought me."
+
+"Why, my darling, darling love of an Ethel!" said Minnie, who was
+overwhelmed with surprise.
+
+"H-s-s-s-h!"
+
+"But how can I h-s-s-s-h when I'm so perfectly frantic with delight?
+Oh, you darling pet!"
+
+"H-s-s-s-h! Not another word. I'll be discovered and lost."
+
+"Well, dear, I'll speak very, very low. But how did you come here?"
+
+"The priest brought me."
+
+"The priest?"
+
+"Yes. He was sent for, you know; and I thought I could help you, and
+he is going to save you."
+
+"He! Who?"
+
+"The priest, you know."
+
+"The priest! Is he a Roman Catholic priest, Ethel darling?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"And _he_ is going to save me this time, is he?"
+
+"I hope so, dear."
+
+"Oh, how perfectly lovely that is! and it was so kind and thoughtful
+in you! Now this is really quite nice, for you know I've _longed_ so
+to be saved by a priest. These horrid men, you know, all go and
+propose the moment they save one's life; but a priest _can't_, you
+know--no, not if he saved one a thousand times over. Can he now, Ethel
+darling?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Ethel, in a little surprise. "But stop, darling. You
+really must _not_ say another word--no, not so much as a whisper--for
+we certainly _will_ be heard; and don't notice what I do, or the
+priest either, for it's very, very important, dear. But you keep as
+still as a little mouse, and wait till we are all ready."
+
+"Well, Ethel dear, I will; but it's awfully funny to see you here--and
+oh, _such_ a funny figure as you are!"
+
+"H-s-s-s-h!"
+
+Minnie relapsed into silence now, and Ethel withdrew near to the door,
+where she stood and listened. All was still. Down stairs there was no
+light and no sound. In the hall above she could see nothing, and could
+not tell whether any guards were there or not.
+
+Hawbury's room was at the back of the house, as has been said, and the
+door was just at the top of the stairs. The door where Ethel was
+standing was there too, and was close by the other, so that she could
+listen and hear the deep breathing of the sleeper. One or two
+indistinct sounds escaped him from time to time, and this was all that
+broke the deep stillness.
+
+She waited thus for nearly an hour, during which all was still, and
+Minnie said not a word. Then a shadowy figure appeared near her at
+Hawbury's door, and a hand touched her shoulder.
+
+Not a word was said.
+
+Ethel stole softly and noiselessly into Hawbury's room, where the
+priest was. She could see the two windows, and the priest indicated to
+her the position of the sleeper.
+
+Slowly and cautiously she stole over toward him.
+
+She reached the place.
+
+She knelt by his side, and bent low over him. Her lips touched his
+forehead.
+
+The sleeper moved slightly, and murmured some words.
+
+"All fire," he murmured; "fire--and flame. It is a furnace before us.
+She must not die."
+
+Then he sighed.
+
+Ethel's heart beat wildly. The words that he spoke told her where his
+thoughts were wandering. She bent lower; tears fell from her eyes and
+upon his face.
+
+"My darling," murmured the sleeper, "we will land here. I will cook
+the fish. How pale! Don't cry, dearest."
+
+The house was all still. Not a sound arose. Ethel still bent down and
+listened for more of these words which were so sweet to her.
+
+"Ethel!" murmured the sleeper, "where are you? Lost! lost!"
+
+A heavy sigh escaped him, which found an echo in the heart of the
+listener. She touched his forehead gently with one hand, and
+whispered,
+
+"My lord!"
+
+Hawbury started.
+
+"What's this?" he murmured.
+
+"A friend," said Ethel.
+
+At this Hawbury became wide awake.
+
+"Who are you?" he whispered, in a trembling voice. "For God's
+sake--oh, for God's sake, speak again! tell me!"
+
+"Harry," said Ethel.
+
+Hawbury recognized the voice at once.
+
+A slight cry escaped him, which was instantly suppressed, and then a
+torrent of whispered words followed.
+
+"Oh, my darling! my darling! my darling! What is this? How is this? Is
+it a dream? Oh, am I awake? Is it you? Oh, my darling! my darling! Oh,
+if my arms were but free!"
+
+Ethel bent over him, and passed her arm around him till she felt the
+cords that bound him. She had a sharp knife ready, and with this she
+cut the cords. Hawbury raised himself, without waiting for his feet to
+be freed, and caught Ethel in his freed arms in a silent embrace, and
+pressed her over and over again to his heart.
+
+Ethel with difficulty extricated herself.
+
+"There's no time to lose," said she. "I came to save you. Don't waste
+another moment; it will be too late. Oh, do not! Oh, wait!" she added,
+as Hawbury made another effort to clasp her in his arms. "Oh, do what
+I say, for my sake!"
+
+She felt for his feet, and cut the rest of his bonds.
+
+"What am I to do?" asked Hawbury, clasping her close, as though he was
+afraid that he would lose her again.
+
+"Escape."
+
+"Well, come! I'll leap with you from the window."
+
+"You can't. The house and all around swarms with brigands. They watch
+us all closely."
+
+"I'll fight my way through them."
+
+"Then you'll be killed, and I'll die."
+
+"Well, I'll do whatever you say."
+
+"Listen, then. You must escape alone."
+
+"What! and leave you? Never!"
+
+"I'm safe. I'm disguised, and a priest is with me as my protector."
+
+"How can you be safe in such a place as this?"
+
+"I am safe. Do not argue. There is no time to lose. The priest brought
+me here, and will take me away."
+
+"But there are others here. I can't leave them. Isn't Miss Fay a
+prisoner? and another lady?"
+
+"Yes; but the priest and I will be able, I hope, to liberate them. We
+have a plan."
+
+"But can't I go with you and help you?"
+
+"Oh no! it's impossible. You could not. We are going to take them away
+in disguise. We have a dress. You couldn't be disguised."
+
+"And _must_ I go alone?"
+
+"You must."
+
+"I'll do it, then. Tell me what it is. But oh, my darling! how can I
+leave you, and in such a place as this?"
+
+"I assure you I am not in the slightest danger."
+
+"I shall feel terribly anxious."
+
+"H-s-s-s-h! no more of this. Listen now."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Ethel bent lower, and whispered in his ear, in even lower tones than
+ever, the plan which she had contrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+A DESPERATE PLAN.
+
+
+Ethel's plan was hastily revealed. The position was exceedingly
+perilous; time was short, and this was the only way of escape.
+
+It was the priest who had concocted it, and he had thought of it as
+the only plan by which Hawbury's rescue could be effected. This
+ingenious Irishman had also formed another plan for the rescue of
+Minnie and her sister, which was to be attempted in due course of
+time.
+
+Now no ordinary mode of escape was possible for Hawbury. A strict
+watch was kept. The priest had noticed on his approach that guards
+were posted in different directions in such a way that no fugitive
+from the house could elude them. He had also seen that the guard
+inside the house was equally vigilant. To leap from the window and run
+for it would be certain death, for that was the very thing which the
+brigands anticipated. To make a sudden rush down the stairs was not
+possible, for at the door below there were guards; and there, most
+vigilant of all, was Girasole himself.
+
+The decision of the Irish priest was correct, as has been proved in
+the case of Dacres, who, in spite of all his caution, was observed and
+captured. Of this the priest knew nothing, but judged from what he
+himself had seen on his approach to the house.
+
+The plan of the priest had been hastily communicated to Ethel, who
+shared his convictions and adopted his conclusions. She also had
+noticed the vigilance with which the guard had been kept up, and only
+the fact that a woman had been sent for and was expected with the
+priest had preserved her from discovery and its consequences. As it
+was, however, no notice was taken of her, and her pretended character
+was assumed to be her real one. Even Girasole had scarcely glanced at
+her. A village peasant was of no interest in his eyes. His only
+thought was of Minnie, and the woman that the priest brought was only
+used as a desperate effort to show a desire for her comfort. After he
+had decided to separate the sisters the woman was of more importance;
+but he had nothing to say to her, and thus Ethel had effected her
+entrance to Minnie's presence in safety, with the result that has been
+described.
+
+The priest had been turning over many projects in his brain, but at
+last one suggested itself which had originated in connection with the
+very nature of his errand.
+
+One part of that errand was that a man should be conveyed out of the
+house and carried away and left in a certain place. Now the man who
+was thus to be carried out was a dead man, and the certain place to
+which he was to be borne and where he was to be left was the grave;
+but these stern facts did not at all deter the Irish priest from
+trying to make use of this task that lay before him for the benefit of
+Hawbury.
+
+Here was a problem. A prisoner anxious for escape, and a dead man
+awaiting burial; how were these two things to be exchanged so that the
+living man might pass out without going to the grave?
+
+The Irish priest puzzled and pondered and grew black in the face with
+his efforts to get to the solution of this problem, and at length
+succeeded--to his own satisfaction, at any rate. What is more, when he
+explained his plan to Ethel, she adopted it. She started, it is true;
+she shuddered, she recoiled from it at first, but finally she adopted
+it. Furthermore, she took it upon herself to persuade Hawbury to fall
+in with it.
+
+So much with regard to Hawbury. For Minnie and her sister the
+indefatigable priest had already concocted a plan before leaving home.
+This was the very commonplace plan of a disguise. It was to be an old
+woman's apparel, and he trusted to the chapter of accidents to make
+the plan a success. He noticed with pleasure that some women were at
+the place, and thought that the prisoners might be confounded with
+them.
+
+When at length Ethel had explained the plan to Hawbury he made a few
+further objections, but finally declared himself ready to carry it
+out.
+
+The priest now began to put his project into execution. He had brought
+a screw-driver with him, and with this he took out the screws from the
+coffin one by one, as quietly as possible.
+
+Then the lid was lifted off, and Hawbury arose and helped the priest
+to transfer the corpse from the coffin to the straw. They then put the
+corpse on its side, with the face to the wall, and bound the hands
+behind it, and the feet also. The priest then took Hawbury's
+handkerchief and bound it around the head of the corpse. One or two
+rugs that lay near were thrown over the figure, so that it at length
+looked like a sleeping man.
+
+Hawbury now got into the coffin and lay down on his back at full
+length. The priest had brought some bits of wood with him, and these
+he put on the edge of the coffin in such a way that the lid would be
+kept off at a distance of about a quarter of an inch. Through this
+opening Hawbury could have all the air that was requisite for
+breathing.
+
+Then Ethel assisted the priest to lift the lid on.
+
+Thus far all had been quiet; but now a slight noise was heard below.
+Some men were moving. Ethel was distracted with anxiety, but the
+priest was as cool as a clock. He whispered to her to go back to the
+room where she belonged.
+
+"Will you be able to finish it?" she asked.
+
+"Sure an' I will--only don't you be afther stayin' here any longer."
+
+At this Ethel stole back to Minnie's room, and stood listening with a
+quick-beating heart.
+
+But the priest worked coolly and dextrously. He felt for the holes to
+which the screws belonged, and succeeded in putting in two of them.
+
+Then there was a noise in the hall below.
+
+The priest began to put in the third screw.
+
+There were footsteps on the stairs.
+
+He screwed on.
+
+Nearer and nearer came the steps.
+
+The priest still kept to his task.
+
+At last a man entered the room. Ethel, who had heard all, was faint
+with anxiety. She was afraid that the priest had not finished his
+task.
+
+Her fears were groundless.
+
+Just as the foremost of the men entered the room the priest finished
+screwing, and stood by the coffin, having slipped the screw-driver
+into his pocket, as calm as though nothing had happened. Three of the
+screws were in, and that was as many as were needed.
+
+The men brought no light with them, and this circumstance was in the
+priest's favor.
+
+"You've been keeping me waiting long," said the priest, in Italian.
+
+"You may be glad it wasn't longer," said one of them, in a sullen
+tone. "Where is it?"
+
+"Here," said the priest.
+
+The men gathered around the coffin, and stooped down over it, one at
+each corner. Then they raised it up. Then they carried it out; and
+soon the heavy steps of the men were heard as they went down the
+stairs with their burden.
+
+Ethel still stood watching and listening.
+
+As she listened she heard some one ascending the stairs. New terror
+arose. Something was wrong, and all would be discovered. But the man
+who came up had no light, and that was one comfort. She could not see
+who it was.
+
+The man stopped for a moment in front of Minnie's door, and stood so
+close to her that she heard his breathing. It was quick and heavy,
+like the breathing of a very tired or a very excited man. Then he
+turned away and went to the door of the front-room opposite. Here he
+also stood for a few moments.
+
+All was still.
+
+Then he came back, and entered Hawbury's room.
+
+Now the crisis had come--the moment when all might be discovered. And
+if so, they all were lost. Ethel bent far forward and tried to peer
+through the gloom. She saw the dark figure of the new-comer pass by
+one of the windows, and by the outline she knew that it was Girasole.
+He passed on into the shadow, and toward the place where the straw
+was. She could not see him any more.
+
+Girasole stepped noiselessly and cautiously, as though fearful of
+waking the sleeper. At every step he paused and listened. The silence
+reassured him.
+
+He drew nearer and nearer, his left hand groping forward, and his
+right hand holding a pistol. His movements were perfectly noiseless.
+
+His own excitement was now intense, his heart throbbed fiercely and
+almost painfully as he approached his victim.
+
+At last he reached the spot, and knelt on one knee. He listened for a
+moment. There was no noise and no movement on the part of the figure
+before him.
+
+In the gloom he could see the outline of that figure plainly. It lay
+on its side, curled up in the most comfortable attitude which could be
+assumed, where arms and legs were bound.
+
+"How soundly he sleeps!" thought Girasole.
+
+He paused for a moment, and seemed to hesitate; but it was only for a
+moment. Then, summing up his resolution, he held his pistol close to
+the head of the figure, and fired.
+
+[Illustration: "HE HELD HIS PISTOL CLOSE TO THE HEAD, AND FIRED."]
+
+The loud report echoed through the house. A shriek came from Minnie's
+room, and a cry came from Mrs. Willoughby, who sprang toward the hall.
+But Girasole came out and intercepted her.
+
+"Eet ees notin," said he, in a tremulous voice. "Eet ees all ovair.
+Eet ees only a false alarm."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby retreated to her room, and Minnie said nothing. As for
+Ethel, the suspense with her had passed away as the report of the
+pistol came to her ears.
+
+Meanwhile the coffin was carried out of the house, and the men,
+together with the priest, walked on toward a place further up the
+shore and on the outskirts of the woods. They reached a place where a
+grave was dug.
+
+At this moment a pistol-shot sounded. The priest stopped, and the men
+stopped also. They did not understand it. The priest did not know the
+cause of the shot, but seeing the alarm of the men he endeavored to
+excite their fears. One of the men went back, and was cursed by
+Girasole for his pains. So he returned to the grave, cursing every
+body.
+
+The coffin was now lowered into the grave, and the priest urged the
+men to go away and let him finish the work; but they refused. The
+fellows seemed to have some affection for their dead comrade, and
+wished to show it by putting him underground, and doing the last
+honors. So the efforts of the Irish priest, though very well meant,
+and very urgent, and very persevering, did not meet with that success
+which he anticipated.
+
+Suddenly he stopped in the midst of the burial service, which he was
+prolonging to the utmost.
+
+"Hark!" he cried, in Italian.
+
+"What?" they asked.
+
+"It's a gun! It's an alarm!"
+
+"There's no gun, and no alarm," said they.
+
+All listened, but there was no repetition of the sound, and the priest
+went on.
+
+He had to finish it.
+
+He stood trembling and at his wit's end. Already the men began to
+throw in the earth.
+
+But now there came a real alarm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+DISCOVERED.
+
+
+The report of the pistol had startled Minnie, and for a moment had
+greatly agitated her. The cry of Mrs. Willoughby elicited a response
+from her to the effect that all was right, and would, no doubt, have
+resulted in a conversation, had it not been prevented by Girasole.
+
+Minnie then relapsed into silence for a time, and Ethel took a seat by
+her side on the floor, for Minnie would not go near the straw, and
+then the two interlocked their arms in an affectionate embrace.
+
+"Ethel darling," whispered Minnie, "do you know I'm beginning to get
+awfully tired of this?"
+
+"I should think so, poor darling!"
+
+"If I only had some place to sit on," said Minnie, still reverting to
+her original grievance, "it wouldn't be so very bad, you know. I could
+put up with not having a bed, or a sofa, or that sort of thing, you
+know; but really I must say not to have any kind of a seat seems to me
+to be very, very inconsiderate, to say the least of it."
+
+"Poor darling!" said Ethel again.
+
+"And now do you know, Ethel dear, I'm beginning to feel as though I
+should really like to run away from this place, if I thought that
+horrid man wouldn't see me?"
+
+"Minnie darling," said Ethel, "that's the very thing I came for, you
+know."
+
+"Oh yes, I know! And that dear, nice, good, kind, delightful priest!
+Oh, it was so nice of you to think of a priest, Ethel dear! I'm so
+grateful! But when is he coming?"
+
+"Soon, I hope. But _do_ try not to talk so."
+
+"But I'm only whispering."
+
+"Yes, but your whispers are too loud, and I'm afraid they'll hear."
+
+"Well, I'll try to keep still; but it's so _awfully_ hard, you know,
+when one has _so_ much to say, Ethel dear."
+
+Minnie now remained silent for about five minutes.
+
+"How did you say you were going to take me away?" she asked at length.
+
+"In disguise," said Ethel.
+
+"But _what_ disguise?"
+
+"In an old woman's dress--but hu-s-s-s-sh!"
+
+"But I don't _want_ to be dressed up in an old woman's clothes; they
+make me _such_ a figure. Why, I'd be a perfect fright."
+
+"Hu-s-s-s-sh! Dear, dear Minnie, you're talking too loud. They'll
+certainly hear us," said Ethel, in a low, frightened whisper.
+
+"But _do_--_do_ promise you won't take me in an old woman's clothes!"
+
+"Oh, there--there it is again!" said Ethel. "Dear, dear Minnie,
+there's some one listening."
+
+"Well, I don't see what harm there is in what I'm saying. I only
+wanted--"
+
+Here there was a movement on the stairs just outside. Ethel had heard
+a sound of that kind two or three times, and it had given her alarm;
+but now Minnie herself heard it, and stopped speaking.
+
+And now a voice sounded from the stairs. Some Italian words were
+spoken, and seemed to be addressed to them. Of course they could make
+no reply. The words were repeated, with others, and the speaker seemed
+to be impatient. Suddenly it flashed across Ethel's mind that the
+speaker was Girasole, and that the words were addressed to her.
+
+Her impression was correct, and the speaker was Girasole. He had heard
+the sibilant sounds of the whispering, and, knowing that Minnie could
+not speak Italian, it had struck him as being a very singular thing
+that she should be whispering. Had her sister joined her? He thought
+he would go up and see. So he went up softly, and the whispering still
+went on. He therefore concluded that the "Italian woman" was not doing
+her duty, and that Mrs. Willoughby had joined her sister. This he
+would not allow; but as he had already been sufficiently harsh he did
+not wish to be more so, and therefore he called to the "Italian
+woman."
+
+"Hallo, you woman there! didn't I tell you not to let the ladies speak
+to one another?"
+
+Of course no answer was given, so Girasole grew more angry still, and
+cried out again, more imperatively:
+
+"Why do you not answer me? Where are you? Is this the way you watch?"
+
+Still there was no answer. Ethel heard, and by this time knew what his
+suspicion was; but she could neither do nor say any thing.
+
+"Come down here at once, you hag!"
+
+But the "hag" did not come down, nor did she give any answer. The
+"hag" was trembling violently, and saw that all was lost. If the
+priest were only here! If she could only have gone and returned with
+him! What kept him?
+
+Girasole now came to the top of the stairs, and spoke to Minnie.
+
+"Charming mees, are you awake?"
+
+"Yes," said Minnie.
+
+"Ees your sistaire wit you?"
+
+"No. How can _she_ be with me, I should like to know, when you've gone
+and put her in some horrid old room?"
+
+"Ah! not wit you? Who are you whisperin' to, den?"
+
+Minnie hesitated.
+
+"To my maid," said she.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT DIT YOU COME FOR?"--"FOR HER."]
+
+"Does de maid spik Inglis?" asked Girasole.
+
+"Yes," said Minnie.
+
+"Ah! I did not know eet. I mus have a look at de contadina who spiks
+Inglis. Come here, Italiana. You don't spik Italiano, I tink. Come
+here."
+
+Ethel rose to her feet.
+
+Girasole ran down, and came back after a few minutes with a lamp.
+Concealment was useless, and so Ethel did not cover her face with the
+hood. It had fallen off when she was sitting by Minnie, and hung
+loosely down her shoulders from the strings which were around her
+neck. Girasole recognized her at one glance.
+
+"Ah!" said he; and then he stood thinking. As for Ethel, now that the
+suspense was over and the worst realized, her agitation ceased. She
+stood looking at him with perfect calm.
+
+"What dit you come for?" he asked.
+
+"For _her_," said Ethel, making a gesture toward Minnie.
+
+"What could you do wit her?"
+
+"I could see her and comfort her."
+
+"Ah! an' you hope to make her escape. Ha, ha! ver well. You mus not
+complain eef you haf to soffair de consequence. Aha! an' so de priest
+bring you here--ha?"
+
+Ethel was silent.
+
+"Ah! you fear to say--you fear you harma de priest--ha?"
+
+Minnie had thus far said nothing, but now she rose and looked at
+Girasole, and then at Ethel. Then she twined one arm around Ethel's
+waist, and turned her large, soft, childish eyes upon Girasole.
+
+"What do you mean," she said, "by _always_ coming here and teasing,
+and worrying, and firing off pistols, and frightening people? I'm sure
+it was horrid enough for you to make me come to this wretched place,
+when you _know_ I don't like it, without annoying me so. Why did you
+go and take away poor darling Kitty? And what do you mean now, pray,
+by coming here? I never was treated so unkindly in my life. I did not
+think that _any one_ could be so very, very rude."
+
+"Charming mees," said Girasole, with a deprecating air, "it pains me
+to do any ting dat you do not like."
+
+"It don't pain you," said Minnie--"it don't pain you _at all_. You're
+_always_ teasing me. You _never_ do what I want you to. You wouldn't
+even give me a chair."
+
+"Alas, carissima mia, to-morra you sall haf all! But dis place is so
+remote."
+
+"It is _not_ remote," said Minnie. "It's close by roads and villages
+and things. Why, here is Ethel; she has been in a village where there
+are houses, and people, and as many chairs as she wants."
+
+"Oh, mees, eef you will but wait an' be patient--eef you will but wait
+an' see how tender I will be, an' how I lof you."
+
+"You _don't_ love me," said Minnie, "one bit. Is this love--not to
+give me a chair? I have been standing up till I am nearly ready to
+drop. And you have nothing better than some wretched promises. I don't
+care for to-morrow; I want to be comfortable to-day. You won't let me
+have a single thing. And now you come to tease me again, and frighten
+poor, dear, darling Ethel."
+
+"Eet ees because she deceif me--she come wit a plot--she steal in
+here. Eef she had wait, all would be well."
+
+"You mustn't _dare_ to touch her," said Minnie, vehemently. "You
+_shall_ leave her here. She _shall_ stay with me."
+
+"I am ver pain--oh, very; but oh, my angel--sweet--charming mees--eet
+ees dangaire to my lof. She plot to take you away. An' all my life is
+in you. Tink what I haf to do to gain you!"
+
+Minnie looked upon Girasole, with her large eyes dilated with
+excitement and resentment.
+
+"You are a horrid, horrid man," she exclaimed. "I _hate_ you."
+
+"Oh, my angel," pleaded Girasole, with deep agitation, "take back dat
+word."
+
+"I'm sorry you ever saved my life," said Minnie, very calmly; "and I'm
+sorry I ever saw you. I _hate_ you."
+
+"Ah, you gif me torment. You do not mean dis. You say once you lof
+me."
+
+"_I_ did not say I loved _you_. It was _you_ who said you loved _me_.
+_I_ never liked _you_. And I don't really see how I _could_ be engaged
+to you when I was engaged to another man before. He is the only one
+whom I recognize now. I don't know you at all. For I couldn't be bound
+to two men; could I, Ethel dear?"
+
+Ethel did not reply to this strange question.
+
+But upon Girasole its effect was very great. The manner of Minnie had
+been excessively perplexing to him all through this eventful day. If
+she had stormed and gone into a fine frenzy he could have borne it. It
+would have been natural. But she was perfectly unconcerned, and her
+only complaint was about trifles. Such trifles too! He felt ashamed to
+think that he could have subjected to such annoyances a woman whom he
+so dearly loved. And now he was once more puzzled. Minnie confronted
+him, looking at him fixedly, without one particle of fear, with her
+large, earnest, innocent eyes fastened upon his--with the calm, cool
+gaze, of some high-minded child rebuking a younger child-companion.
+This was a proceeding which he was not prepared for. Besides, the
+child-innocence of her face and of her words actually daunted him. She
+seemed so fearless, because she was so innocent. She became a greater
+puzzle than ever. He had never seen much of her before, and this day's
+experience of her had actually daunted him and confounded him. And
+what was the worst to him of all her words was her calm and simple
+declaration, "I hate you!"
+
+"Yes," said Minnie, thoughtfully, "it must be so; and dear Kitty would
+have said the same, only she was so awfully prejudiced. And I always
+thought he was so nice. Yes, I think I really must be engaged to him.
+But as for you," she said, turning full upon Girasole, "I hate you!"
+
+Girasole's face grew white with rage and jealousy.
+
+"Aha!" said he. "You lof _him_. Aha! An' you were engage to _him_.
+Aha!"
+
+"Yes, I really think so."
+
+"Aha! Well, listen," cried Girasole, in a hoarse voice--"listen.
+He--he--de rival--de one you say you are engage--he is dead!"
+
+And with this he fastened upon Minnie his eyes that now gleamed with
+rage, and had an expression in them that might have made Ethel quiver
+with horror, but she did not, for she knew that Girasole was mistaken
+on that point.
+
+As for Minnie, she was not at all impressed by his fierce looks.
+
+"I don't think you really know what you're talking about," said she;
+"and you're very, very unpleasant. At any rate, you are altogether in
+the wrong when you say he is dead."
+
+"Dead! He is dead! I swear it!" cried Girasole, whose manner was a
+little toned down by Minnie's coolness.
+
+"This is getting to be awfully funny, you know," said Minnie. "I
+really think we don't know what one another is talking about. I'm sure
+_I_ don't, and I'm sure _he_ don't, either; does he, Ethel darling?"
+
+"De Inglis milor," said Girasole. "He is dead."
+
+"Well, but I don't mean him at all," said Minnie.
+
+"Who--who?" gasped Girasole. "Who--who--who?"
+
+"Why, the person I mean," said Minnie, very placidly, "is Rufus K.
+Gunn."
+
+Girasole uttered something like a howl, and retreated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+UNDER ARREST.
+
+
+Girasole retreated half-way down the stairs, and then he stopped for
+some time and thought. Then he came back and motioned to Ethel.
+
+"You must come," he said, gruffly.
+
+"You shall not," said Minnie.
+
+"No, no, darling," said Ethel; "I had better go. It will only get you
+into fresh trouble. And I'll be back as soon as I can."
+
+"Oh, how I _hate_ you!" said Minnie to Girasole. The latter said
+nothing. Ethel kissed Minnie, and descended the stairs after him.
+
+The Irish priest was standing over the grave bathed in a cold
+perspiration, his heart throbbing violently, every new thud of the
+earth, as it sounded violently against the coffin, sending a cold
+chill of horror through every nerve. Already enough earth had been
+thrown to cover three-quarters of the lid, and at the foot it was
+heaped up some distance. He tried to frame some excuse to get the men
+away. His brain whirled; his mind was confused; his thoughts refused
+to be collected.
+
+And now, in the midst of this, the attention of all was attracted by a
+loud stern voice, which sounded from some one near. The priest looked
+around. The men stopped shoveling, and turned to see the cause of the
+noise.
+
+Girasole was seen approaching, and was already near enough to be
+distinguished. Behind him followed a female form. At this sight the
+priest's mind misgave him.
+
+Girasole came up, and now the priest saw that the female was no other
+than Ethel.
+
+"Where is this priest?" asked Girasole, angrily, speaking, of course,
+in Italian.
+
+The priest advanced.
+
+"I am here," said he, with quiet dignity.
+
+At this change in the state of affairs the priest regained his
+presence of mind. The cessation in the work gave him relief, and
+enabled him to recall his scattered and confused thoughts. The men
+stood looking at the speakers, and listening, leaning on their
+shovels.
+
+"You were sent for?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And a maid?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You brought this lady?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You put her in disguise; you passed her off as an Italian?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The priest made no attempt at denial or equivocation. He knew that
+this would be useless. He waited for an opportunity to excuse himself,
+and to explain rather than to deny. But every answer of his only
+served to increase the fury of Girasole, who seemed determined to
+visit upon the head of the priest and Ethel the rage that he felt at
+his last interview with Minnie.
+
+"Then why," cried Girasole, "did you try to trick us? Don't you know
+the punishment we give to spies and traitors?"
+
+"I have nothing to do with spies and traitors."
+
+"You are one yourself."
+
+"I am not."
+
+"You lie!"
+
+"I do not," said the priest, mildly. "Hear me, and let me tell my
+story, and you will see that I am not a traitor; or, if you don't wish
+to listen, then question me."
+
+"There is but one question. What made you bring this lady?"
+
+"That is simply answered," said the priest, with unfaltering calmness.
+"This lady and her friends arrived at my village and claimed
+hospitality. They were in distress. Some of their friends had been
+taken from them. A message came from you requesting my presence, and
+also a lady's-maid. There was no stipulation about the kind of one.
+This lady was the intimate friend of the captive, and entreated me to
+take her, so that she should see her friend, and comfort her, and
+share her captivity. I saw no harm in the wish. She proposed to become
+a lady's-maid. I saw no harm in that."
+
+"Why did she disguise herself?"
+
+"So as to pass without trouble. She didn't want to be delayed. She
+wanted to see her friends as soon as possible. If you had questioned
+her, you would no doubt have let her pass."
+
+"I would, no doubt, have done nothing of the kind."
+
+"I don't see any objection," said the priest.
+
+"Objection? She is a spy!"
+
+"A spy? Of what, pray?"
+
+"She came to help her friend to escape."
+
+"To escape? How could she possibly help her to escape? Do you think it
+so easy to escape from this place?"
+
+Girasole was silent.
+
+"Do you think a young lady, who has never been out of the care of her
+friends before, could do much to assist a friend like herself in an
+escape?"
+
+"She might."
+
+"But how? This is not the street of a city. That house is watched, I
+think. There seem to be a few men in these woods, if I am not
+mistaken. Could this young lady help her friend to elude all these
+guards? Why, you know very well that she could not."
+
+"Yes; but then there is--"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Yourself."
+
+"Myself?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What of me?"
+
+"What do I know about your designs?"
+
+"What designs could _I_ have? Do you think _I_ could plan an escape?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why not? What! living here close beside you? _I_ be a traitor? _I_,
+with my life at your mercy at all times--with my throat within such
+easy reach of any assassin who might choose to revenge my treachery?"
+
+"We are not assassins," said Girasole, angrily.
+
+"And I am not a traitor," rejoined the priest, mildly.
+
+[Illustration: UNDER GUARD.]
+
+Girasole was silent, and stood in thought. The men at the grave had
+heard every word of this conversation. Once they laughed in scorn when
+the priest alluded to the absurdity of a young girl escaping. It was
+too ridiculous. Their sympathies were evidently with the priest. The
+charge against him could not be maintained.
+
+"Well," said Girasole at length, "I don't trust you. You may be
+traitors, after all. I will have you guarded, and if I find out any
+thing that looks like treason, by Heaven I will have your life, old
+man, even if you should be the Holy Father himself; and as to the
+lady--well, I will find plenty of ways," he added, with a sneer, "of
+inflicting on her a punishment commensurable with her crime. Here, you
+men, come along with me," he added, looking at the men by the grave.
+
+"But we want to finish poor Antonio's grave," remonstrated one of the
+men.
+
+"Bah! he'll keep," said Girasole, with a sneer.
+
+"Can't one of us stay?" asked the man.
+
+"No, not one; I want you all. If they are traitors, they are deep
+ones. They must be guarded; and, mind you, if they escape, you shall
+suffer."
+
+With these words he led the way, and the priest and Ethel followed
+him. After these came the men, who had thrown down their shovels
+beside the grave. They all walked on in silence, following Girasole,
+who led the way to a place beyond the grave, and within view of one of
+the fires formerly alluded to. The place was about half-way between
+the grave and the fire. It was a little knoll bare of trees, and from
+it they could be seen by those at the nearest fire. Here Girasole
+paused, and, with some final words of warning to the guards, he turned
+and took his departure.
+
+The priest sat down upon the grass, and urged Ethel to do the same.
+She followed his advice, and sat down by his side. The guards sat
+around them so as to encircle them, and, mindful of Girasole's charge,
+they kept their faces turned toward them, so as to prevent even the
+very thought of flight. The priest addressed a few mild parental words
+to the men, who gave him very civil responses, but relaxed not a
+particle of their vigilance.
+
+In the priest's mind there was still some anxiety, but much greater
+hope than he had dared to have for some time. He remembered that the
+coffin was not all covered over, and hoped that the inmate might be
+able to breathe. The fact that the work had been so unexpectedly
+interrupted was one which filled him with joy, and gave rise to the
+best hopes. The only offset to all this was his own captivity, but
+that was a very serious one. Besides, he knew that his life hung upon
+a thread. Before the next day Girasole would certainly discover all,
+and in that case he was a doomed man. But his nature was of a kind
+that could not borrow trouble, and so the fact of the immediate safety
+of Hawbury was of far more importance, and attracted far more of his
+thoughts, than his own certain but more remote danger.
+
+As for Ethel, she was now a prey to the deepest anxiety. All was
+discovered except the mere fact of Hawbury's removal, and how long
+that would remain concealed she could not know. Every moment she
+expected to hear the cry of those who might discover the exchange. And
+Hawbury, so long lost, so lately found--Hawbury, whom she had
+suspected of falsity so long and so long avoided, who now had proved
+himself so constant and so true--what was his fate? She had gazed with
+eyes of horror at that grave wherein he lay, and had seen the men
+shoveling in the earth as she came up. The recollection of this filled
+her with anguish. Had they buried him?--how deep was the earth that
+lay over him?--could there, indeed, be any hope?
+
+All depended on the priest. She hoped that he had prevented things
+from going too far. She had seen him watching the grave, and
+motionless. What did that inactivity mean? Was it a sign that Hawbury
+was safe, or was it merely because he could not do any thing?
+
+She was distracted by such fearful thoughts as these. Her heart once
+more throbbed with those painful pulsations which she had felt when
+approaching Hawbury. For some time she sat supporting her agony as
+best she could, and not daring to ask the priest, for fear their
+guards might suspect the truth, or perhaps understand her words.
+
+But at last she could bear it no longer.
+
+She touched the priest's arm as he sat beside her, without looking at
+him.
+
+The priest returned the touch.
+
+"Is he safe?" she asked, in a tremulous voice, which was scarce
+audible from grief and anxiety.
+
+"He is," said the priest.
+
+And then, looking at the man before him, he added immediately, in an
+unconcerned tone,
+
+"She wants to know what time it is, and I told her two o'clock. That's
+right, isn't it?"
+
+"About right," said the man.
+
+Now that was a lie, but whether it was justifiable or not may be left
+to others to decide.
+
+As for Ethel, an immense load of anxiety was lifted off her mind, and
+she began to breathe more freely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE DEMON WIFE.
+
+
+When Dacres was overpowered by his assailants no mercy was shown him.
+His hands were bound tight behind him, and kicks and blows were
+liberally bestowed during the operation. Finally, he was pushed and
+dragged into the house, and up stairs to the room already mentioned.
+There he was still further secured by a tight rope around his ankles,
+after which he was left to his own meditations.
+
+Gloomy and bitter and fierce, indeed, were those meditations. His body
+was covered with bruises, and though no bones were broken, yet his
+pain was great. In addition to this the cords around his wrists and
+ankles were very tight, and his veins seemed swollen to bursting. It
+was difficult to get an easy position, and he could only lie on his
+side or on his face. These bodily pains only intensified the
+fierceness of his thoughts and made them turn more vindictively than
+ever upon the subject of his wife.
+
+She was the cause of all this, he thought. She had sacrificed every
+thing to her love for her accursed paramour. For this she had betrayed
+him, and her friends, and the innocent girl who was her companion. All
+the malignant feelings which had filled his soul through the day now
+swelled within him, till he was well-nigh mad. Most intolerable of all
+was his position now--the baffled enemy. He had come as the avenger,
+he had come as the destroyer; but he had been entrapped before he had
+struck his blow, and here he was now lying, defeated, degraded, and
+humiliated! No doubt he would be kept to afford sport to his
+enemy--perhaps even his wife might come to gloat over his sufferings,
+and feast her soul with the sight of his ruin. Over such thoughts as
+these he brooded, until at last he had wrought himself into something
+like frenzy, and with the pain that he felt, and the weariness that
+followed the fatigues of that day, these thoughts might finally have
+brought on madness, had they gone on without any thing to disturb
+them.
+
+But all these thoughts and ravings were destined to come to a full and
+sudden stop, and to be changed to others of a far different character.
+This change took place when Girasole, after visiting the ladies, came,
+with Mrs. Willoughby, to his room. As Dacres lay on the floor he heard
+the voice of the Italian, and the faint, mournful, pleading tones of a
+woman's voice, and, finally, he saw the flash of a light, and knew
+that the Italian was coming to his room, and perhaps this woman also.
+He held his breath in suspense. What did it mean? The tone of Girasole
+was not the tone of love. The light drew nearer, and the footsteps
+too--one a heavy footfall, the tread of a man; the other lighter, the
+step of a woman. He waited almost breathless.
+
+At last she appeared. There she was before him, and with the Italian;
+but oh, how changed from that demon woman of his fancies, who was to
+appear before him with his enemy and gloat over his sufferings! Was
+there a trace of a fiend in that beautiful and gentle face? Was there
+thought of joy or exultation over him in that noble and mournful lady,
+whose melancholy grace and tearful eyes now riveted his gaze? Where
+was the foul traitor who had done to death her husband and her friend?
+Where was the miscreant who had sacrificed all to a guilty passion?
+Not there; not with that face; not with those tears: to think that was
+impossible--it was unholy. He might rave when he did not see her, but
+now that his eyes beheld her those mad fancies were all dissipated.
+
+There was only one thing there--a woman full of loveliness and grace,
+in the very bloom of her life, overwhelmed with suffering which this
+Italian was inflicting on her. Why? Could he indulge the unholy
+thought that the Italian had cast her off, and supplied her place with
+the younger beauty? Away with such a thought! It was not jealousy of
+that younger lady that Dacres perceived; it was the cry of a loving,
+yearning heart that clung to that other one, from whom the Italian had
+violently severed her. There was no mistake as to the source of this
+sorrow. Nothing was left to the imagination. Her own words told all.
+
+Then the light was taken away, and the lady crouched upon the floor.
+Dacres could no longer see her amidst that gloom; but he could hear
+her; and every sob, and every sigh, and every moan went straight to
+his heart and thrilled through every fibre of his being. He lay there
+listening, and quivering thus as he listened with a very intensity of
+sympathy that shut out from his mind every other thought except that
+of the mourning, stricken one before him.
+
+Thus a long time passed, and the lady wept still, and other sounds
+arose, and there were footsteps in the house, and whisperings, and
+people passing to and fro; but to all these Dacres was deaf, and they
+caused no more impression on his senses than if they were not. His
+ears and his sense of hearing existed only for these sobs and these
+sighs.
+
+At last a pistol-shot roused him. The lady sprang up and called in
+despair. A cry came back, and the lady was about to venture to the
+other room, when she was driven back by the stern voice of Girasole.
+Then she stood for a moment, after which she knelt, and Dacres heard
+her voice in prayer. The prayer was not audible, but now and then
+words struck upon his ears which gave the key to her other words, and
+he knew that it was no prayer of remorse for guilt, but a cry for help
+in sore affliction.
+
+Had any thing more been needed to destroy the last vestige of Dacres's
+former suspicions it was furnished by the words which he now heard.
+
+"Oh, Heaven!" he thought; "can this woman be what I have thought her?
+But if not, what a villain am I! Yet now I must rather believe myself
+to be a villain than her!"
+
+In the midst of this prayer Girasole's voice sounded, and then
+Minnie's tones came clearly audible. The lady rose and listened, and a
+great sigh of relief escaped her. Then Girasole descended the stairs,
+and the lady again sank upon her knees.
+
+Thus far there seemed a spell upon Dacres; but this last incident and
+the clear child-voice of Minnie seemed to break it. He could no longer
+keep silence. His emotion was as intense as ever, but the bonds which
+had bound his lips seemed now to be loosened.
+
+"Oh, Arethusa!" he moaned.
+
+At the sound of his voice Mrs. Willoughby started, and rose to her
+feet. So great had been her anxiety and agitation that for some time
+she had not thought of another being in the room, and there had been
+no sound from him to suggest his existence. But now his voice startled
+her. She gave no answer, however.
+
+"Arethusa!" repeated Dacres, gently and longingly and tenderly.
+
+"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's dreaming."
+
+"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa!" said Dacres once more. "Do not keep away.
+Come to me. I am calm now."
+
+"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby. "He doesn't seem to be asleep.
+He's talking to me. I really think he is."
+
+"Arethusa," said Dacres again, "will you answer me one question?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby hesitated for a moment, but now perceived that Dacres
+was really speaking to her. "He's in delirium," she thought. "Poor
+fellow, I must humor him, I suppose. But what a funny name to give
+me!"
+
+So, after a little preparatory cough, Mrs. Willoughby said, in a low
+voice,
+
+"What question?"
+
+Dacres was silent for a few moments. He was overcome by his emotions.
+He wished to ask her one question--the question of all questions in
+his mind. Already her acts had answered it sufficiently; but he longed
+to have the answer in her own words. Yet he hesitated to ask it. It
+was dishonor to her to ask it. And thus, between longing and
+hesitation, he delayed so long that Mrs. Willoughby imagined that he
+had fallen back into his dreams or into his delirium, and would say no
+more.
+
+But at last Dacres staked every thing on the issue, and asked it:
+
+"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa! do you--do you love--the--the Italian?"
+
+"The Italian!" said Mrs. Willoughby--"love the Italian! me!" and then
+in a moment she thought that this was his delirium, and she must humor
+it. "Poor fellow!" she sighed again; "how he fought them! and no doubt
+he has had fearful blows on his head."
+
+"Do you? do you? Oh, answer, I implore you!" cried Dacres.
+
+"No!" said Mrs. Willoughby, solemnly. "I hate him as I never hated man
+before." She spoke her mind this time, although she thought the other
+was delirious.
+
+A sigh of relief and of happiness came from Dacres, so deep that it
+was almost a groan.
+
+"And oh," he continued, "tell me this--have you ever loved him at
+all?"
+
+"I always disliked him excessively," said Mrs. Willoughby, in the same
+low and solemn tone. "I saw something bad--altogether bad--in his
+face."
+
+"Oh, may Heaven forever bless you for that word!" exclaimed Dacres,
+with such a depth of fervor that Mrs. Willoughby was surprised. She
+now believed that he was intermingling dreams with realities, and
+tried to lead him to sense by reminding him of the truth.
+
+"It was Minnie, you know, that he was fond of."
+
+"What! Minnie Fay?"
+
+"Yes; oh yes. I never saw any thing of him."
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" cried Dacres; "oh, Heavens, what a fool, beast,
+villain, and scoundrel I have been! Oh, how I have misjudged _you_!
+And can _you_ forgive me? Oh, can you? But no--you can not."
+
+At this appeal Mrs. Willoughby was startled, and did not know what to
+say or to do. How much of this was delirium and how much real she
+could not tell. One thing seemed evident to her, and that was that,
+whether delirious or not, he took her for another person. But she was
+so full of pity for him, and so very tender-hearted, that her only idea
+was to "humor" him.
+
+"Oh," he cried again, "can this all be true, and have all my
+suspicions been as mad as these last? And _you_--how _you_ have
+changed! How beautiful you are! What tenderness there is in your
+glance--what a pure and gentle and touching grace there is in your
+expression! I swear to you, by Heaven! I have stood gazing at you in
+places where you have not seen me, and thought I saw heaven in your
+face, and worshiped you in my inmost soul. This is the reason why I
+have followed you. From the time I saw you when you came into the room
+at Naples till this night I could not get rid of your image. I fought
+against the feeling, but I can not overcome it. Never, never were you
+half so dear as you are now!"
+
+Now, of course, that was all very well, considered as the language of
+an estranged husband seeking for reconciliation with an estranged
+wife; but when one regards it simply as the language of a passionate
+lover directed to a young and exceedingly pretty widow, one will
+perceive that it was _not_ all very well, and that under ordinary
+circumstances it might create a sensation.
+
+Upon Mrs. Willoughby the sensation was simply tremendous. She had
+begun by "humoring" the delirious man; but now she found his delirium
+taking a course which was excessively embarrassing. The worst of it
+was, there was truth enough in his language to increase the
+embarrassment. She remembered at once how the mournful face of this
+man had appeared before her in different places. Her thoughts
+instantly reverted to that evening on the balcony when his pale face
+appeared behind the fountain. There was truth in his words; and her
+heart beat with extraordinary agitation at the thought. Yet at the
+same time there was some mistake about it all; and he was clearly
+delirious.
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Is there a
+possibility of it? Oh, can you forgive me? Can you--can you?"
+
+He was clearly delirious now. Her heart was full of pity for him. He
+was suffering too. He was bound fast. Could she not release him? It
+was terrible for this man to lie there bound thus. And perhaps he had
+fallen into the hands of these ruffians while trying to save _her_ and
+her sister. She must free him.
+
+"Would you like to be loosed?" she asked, coming nearer. "Shall I cut
+your bonds?"
+
+She spoke in a low whisper.
+
+"Oh, tell me first, I implore you! Can you forgive me?"
+
+He spoke in such a piteous tone that her heart was touched.
+
+"Forgive you?" she said, in a voice full of sympathy and pity. "There
+is nothing for _me_ to forgive."
+
+"Now may Heaven forever bless you for that sweet and gentle word!"
+said Dacres, who altogether misinterpreted her words, and the emphasis
+she placed on them; and in his voice there was such peace, and such a
+gentle, exultant happiness, that Mrs. Willoughby again felt touched.
+
+"Poor fellow!" she thought; "how he _must_ have suffered!"
+
+"Where are you fastened?" she whispered, as she bent over him. Dacres
+felt her breath upon his cheek; the hem of her garment touched his
+sleeve, and a thrill passed through him. He felt as though he would
+like to be forever thus, with _her_ bending over him.
+
+"My hands are fastened behind me," said he.
+
+"I have a knife," said Mrs. Willoughby. She did not stop to think of
+danger. It was chiefly pity that incited her to this. She could not
+bear to see him lying thus in pain, which he had perhaps, as she
+supposed, encountered for her. She was impulsive, and though she
+thought of his assistance toward the escape of Minnie and herself, yet
+pity and compassion were her chief inspiring motives.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby had told Girasole that she had no knife; but this was
+not quite true, for she now produced one, and cut the cords that bound
+his wrists. Again a thrill flashed through him at the touch of her
+little fingers; she then cut the cords that bound his ankles.
+
+Dacres sat up. His ankles and wrists were badly swollen, but he was no
+longer conscious of pain. There was rapture in his soul, and of that
+alone was he conscious.
+
+"Be careful!" she whispered, warningly; "guards are all around, and
+listeners. Be careful! If you can think of a way of escape, do so."
+
+Dacres rubbed his hand over his forehead.
+
+"Am I dreaming?" said he; "or is it all true? A while ago I was
+suffering from some hideous vision; yet now you say you forgive me!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby saw in this a sign of returning delirium. "But the
+poor fellow must be humored, I suppose," she thought.
+
+"Oh, there is nothing for _me_ to forgive," said she.
+
+"But if there were any thing, would you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Freely?" he cried, with a strong emphasis.
+
+"Yes, freely."
+
+"Oh, could you answer me one more question? Oh, could you?"
+
+"No, no; not now--not now, I entreat you," said Mrs. Willoughby, in
+nervous dread. She was afraid that his delirium would bring him upon
+delicate ground, and she tried to hold him back.
+
+"But I must ask you," said Dacres, trembling fearfully--"I must--now
+or never. Tell me my doom; I have suffered so much. Oh, Heavens!
+Answer me. Can you? Can you feel toward me as you once did?"
+
+"He's utterly mad," thought Mrs. Willoughby; "but he'll get worse if I
+don't soothe him. Poor fellow! I ought to answer him."
+
+"Yes," she said, in a low voice.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" murmured Dacres, in rapture inexpressible; "my
+darling!" he repeated; and grasping Mrs. Willoughby's hand, he pressed
+it to his lips. "And you will love me again--you will love me?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby paused. The man was mad, but the ground was so
+dangerous! Yes, she must humor him. She felt his hot kisses on her
+hand.
+
+"You _will_--you _will_ love me, will you not?" he repeated. "Oh,
+answer me! Answer me, or I shall die!"
+
+"Yes," whispered Mrs. Willoughby, faintly.
+
+As she said this a cold chill passed through her. But it was too late.
+Dacres's arms were around her. He had drawn her to him, and pressed
+her against his breast, and she felt hot tears upon her head.
+
+"Oh, Arethusa!" cried Dacres.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Willoughby, as soon as she could extricate herself,
+"there's a mistake, you know."
+
+"A mistake, darling?"
+
+"Oh dear, what _shall_ I do?" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's beginning
+again. I must stop this, and bring him to his senses. How terrible it
+is to humor a delirious man!"
+
+"Oh, Arethusa!" sighed Dacres once more.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby arose.
+
+"I'm not Arethusa at all," said she; "that isn't my name. If you _can_
+shake off your delirium, I wish you would. I really do."
+
+"What!" cried Dacres, in amazement.
+
+"I'm not Arethusa at all; that isn't my name."
+
+"Not your name?"
+
+"No; my name's Kitty."
+
+"Kitty!" cried Dacres, starting to his feet.
+
+At that instant the report of a gun burst upon their ears, followed by
+another and another; then there were wild calls and loud shouts. Other
+guns were heard.
+
+Yet amidst all this wild alarm there was nothing which had so
+tremendous an effect upon Dacres as this last remark of Mrs.
+Willoughby's.
+
+[Illustration: "THE PRIEST FLUNG HIMSELF FORWARD."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE CRISIS OF LIFE.
+
+
+When the Irish priest conjectured that it was about two o'clock in the
+morning he was not very far astray in his calculation. The short
+remarks that were exchanged between him and Ethel, and afterward
+between him and the men, were followed by a profound silence. Ethel
+sat by the side of the priest, with her head bent forward and her eyes
+closed as though she were asleep; yet sleep was farther from her than
+ever it had been, and the thrilling events of the night afforded
+sufficient material to keep her awake for many a long hour yet to
+come. Her mind was now filled with a thousand conflicting and most
+exciting fancies, in the midst of which she might again have sunk into
+despair had she not been sustained by the assurance of the priest.
+
+Sitting near Ethel, the priest for some time looked fixedly ahead of
+him as though he were contemplating the solemn midnight scene, or
+meditating upon the beauties of nature. In truth, the scene around was
+one which was deserving even of the close attention which the priest
+appeared to give. Immediately before him lay the lake, its shore not
+far beneath, and almost at their feet. Around it arose the wooded
+hills, whose dark forms, darker from the gloom of night, threw
+profound shadows over the opposite shores. Near by the shore extended
+on either side. On the right there were fires, now burning low, yet
+occasionally sending forth flashes; on the left, and at some distance,
+might be seen the dusky outline of the old stone house. Behind them
+was the forest, vast, gloomy, clothed in impenetrable shade, in which
+lay their only hope of safety, yet where even now there lurked the
+watchful guards of the brigands. It was close behind them. Once in its
+shelter, and they might gain freedom; yet between them and it was an
+impassable barrier of enemies, and there also lay a still more
+impassable barrier in the grave where Hawbury lay. To fly, even if
+they could fly, would be to give him up to death; yet to remain, as
+they must remain, would be to doom him to death none the less, and
+themselves too.
+
+Seated there, with his eyes directed toward the water, the priest saw
+nothing of the scene before him; his eyes were fixed on vacancy; his
+thoughts were endeavoring to grapple with the situation and master it.
+Yet so complicated was that situation, and so perplexing the dilemma
+in which he found himself--a dilemma where death perched upon either
+horn--that the good priest found his faculties becoming gradually more
+and more unable to deal with the difficulty, and he felt himself once
+more sinking down deeper and deeper into that abyss of despair from
+which he had but recently extricated himself.
+
+And still the time passed, and the precious moments, laden with the
+fate not only of Hawbury, but of all the others--the moments of the
+night during which alone any escape was to be thought of--moved all
+too swiftly away.
+
+Now in this hour of perplexity the good priest bethought him of a
+friend whose fidelity had been proved through the varied events of a
+life--a friend which, in his life of celibacy, had found in his heart
+something of that place which a fond and faithful wife may hold in the
+heart of a more fortunate man. It was a little friend, a fragrant
+friend, a tawny and somewhat grimy friend; it was in the pocket of his
+coat; it was of clay; in fact, it was nothing else than a dudeen.
+
+Where in the world had the good priest who lived in this remote corner
+of Italy got that emblem of his green native isle? Perhaps he had
+brought it with him in the band of his hat when he first turned his
+back upon his country, or perhaps he had obtained it from the same
+quarter which had supplied him with that very black plug of tobacco
+which he brought forth shortly afterward. The one was the complement
+of the other, and each was handled with equal love and care. Soon the
+occupation of cutting up the tobacco and rubbing it gave a temporary
+distraction to his thoughts, which distraction was prolonged by the
+further operation of pressing the tobacco into the bowl of the dudeen.
+
+Here the priest paused and cast a longing look toward the fire, which
+was not far away.
+
+"Would you have any objection to let me go and get a coal to light the
+pipe?" said he to one of the men.
+
+The man had an objection, and a very strong one.
+
+"Would one of you be kind enough to go and get me a brand or a hot
+coal?"
+
+This led to an earnest debate, and finally one of the men thought that
+he might venture. Before doing so, however, a solemn promise was
+extorted from the priest that he would not try to escape during his
+absence. This the priest gave.
+
+"Escape!" he said--"it's a smoke I want. Besides, how can I escape
+with three of ye watching me? And then, what would I want to escape
+for? I'm safe enough here."
+
+The man now went off, and returned in a short time with a brand. The
+priest gave him his blessing, and received the brand with a quiet
+exultation that was pleasing to behold.
+
+"Matches," said he, "ruin the smoke. They give it a sulphur taste.
+There's nothing like a hot coal."
+
+Saying this, he lighted his pipe. This operation was accomplished with
+a series of those short, quick, hard, percussive puffs with which the
+Irish race in every clime on this terrestrial ball perform the solemn
+rite.
+
+And now the thoughts of the priest became more calm and regular and
+manageable. His confusion departed, and gradually, as the smoke
+ascended to the skies, there was diffused over his soul a certain
+soothing and all-pervading calm.
+
+He now began to face the full difficulty of his position. He saw that
+escape was impossible and death inevitable. He made up his mind to
+die. The discovery would surely be made in the morning that Hawbury
+had been substituted for the robber; he would be found and punished,
+and the priest would be involved in his fate. His only care now was
+for Ethel; and he turned his thoughts toward the formation of some
+plan by which he might obtain mercy for her.
+
+He was in the midst of these thoughts--for himself resigned, for Ethel
+anxious--and turning over in his mind all the various modes by which
+the emotion of pity or mercy might be roused in a merciless and
+pitiless nature; he was thinking of an appeal to the brigands
+themselves, and had already decided that in this there lay his best
+hope of success--when all of a sudden these thoughts were rudely
+interrupted and dissipated and scattered to the winds by a most
+startling cry.
+
+Ethel started to her feet.
+
+"Oh Heavens!" she cried, "what was that?"
+
+"Down! down!" cried the men, wrathfully; but before Ethel could obey
+the sound was repeated, and the men themselves were arrested by it.
+
+The sound that thus interrupted the meditations of the priest was the
+explosion of a rifle. As Ethel started up another followed. This
+excited the men themselves, who now listened intently to learn the
+cause.
+
+They did not have to wait long.
+
+Another rifle explosion followed, which was succeeded by a loud, long
+shriek.
+
+"An attack!" cried one of the men, with a deep curse. They listened
+still, yet did not move away from the place, for the duty to which
+they had been assigned was still prominent in their minds. The priest
+had already risen to his feet, still smoking his pipe, as though in
+this new turn of affairs its assistance might be more than ever needed
+to enable him to preserve his presence of mind, and keep his soul
+serene in the midst of confusion.
+
+And now they saw all around them the signs of agitation. Figures in
+swift motion flitted to and fro amidst the shade, and others darted
+past the smouldering fires. In the midst of this another shot sounded,
+and another, and still another. At the third there was a wild yell of
+rage and pain, followed by the shrill cry of a woman's voice. The fact
+was evident that some one of the brigands had fallen, and the women
+were lamenting.
+
+The confusion grew greater. Loud cries arose; calls of encouragement,
+of entreaty, of command, and of defiance. Over by the old house there
+was the uproar of rushing men, and in the midst of it a loud, stern
+voice of command. The voices and the rushing footsteps moved from the
+house to the woods. Then all was still for a time.
+
+It was but for a short time, however. Then came shot after shot in
+rapid succession. The flashes could be seen among the trees. All
+around them there seemed to be a struggle going on. There was some
+unseen assailant striking terrific blows from the impenetrable shadow
+of the woods. The brigands were firing back, but they fired only into
+thick darkness. Shrieks and yells of pain arose from time to time, the
+direction of which showed that the brigands were suffering. Among the
+assailants there was neither voice nor cry. But, in spite of their
+losses and the disadvantage under which they labored, the brigands
+fought well, and resisted stubbornly. From time to time a loud, stern
+voice arose, whose commands resounded far and wide, and sustained the
+courage of the men and directed their movements.
+
+The men who guarded the priest and Ethel were growing more and more
+excited every moment, and were impatient at their enforced inaction.
+
+"They must be soldiers," said one.
+
+"Of course," said another.
+
+"They fight well."
+
+"Ay; better than the last time."
+
+"How did they learn to fight so well under cover?"
+
+"They've improved. The last time we met them we shot them like sheep,
+and drove them back in five minutes."
+
+"They've got a leader who understands fighting in the woods. He keeps
+them under cover."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Diavolo! who knows? They get new captains every day."
+
+"Was there not a famous American Indian--"
+
+"True. I heard of him. An Indian warrior from the American forests.
+Guiseppe saw him when he was at Rome."
+
+"Bah!--you all saw him."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the road."
+
+"We didn't."
+
+"You did. He was the Zouave who fled to the woods first."
+
+"He?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Diavolo!"
+
+These words were exchanged between them as they looked at the
+fighting. But suddenly there came rapid flashes and rolling volleys
+beyond the fires that lay before them, and the movement of the flashes
+showed that a rush had been made toward the lake. Wild yells arose,
+then fierce returning fires, and these showed that the brigands were
+being driven back.
+
+The guards could endure this no longer.
+
+"They are beating us," cried one of the men, with a curse. "We must go
+and fight."
+
+"What shall we do with these prisoners?"
+
+"Tie them and leave them."
+
+"Have you a rope?"
+
+"No. There is one by the grave."
+
+"Let's take the prisoners there and bind them."
+
+This proposition was accepted; and, seizing the priest and Ethel, the
+four men hurried them back to the grave. The square hole lay there
+just beside them, with the earth by its side. Ethel tried to see into
+it, but was not near enough to do so. One of the men found the rope,
+and began in great haste to bind the arms of the priest behind him.
+Another began to bind Ethel in the same way.
+
+But now there came loud cries, and the rush of men near them. A loud,
+stern voice was encouraging the men.
+
+"On! on!" he cried. "Follow me! We'll drive them back!"
+
+Saying this, a man hurried on, followed by a score of brigands.
+
+It was Girasole.
+
+He had been guarding the woods at this side when he had seen the rush
+that had been made farther up. He had seen his men driven in, and was
+now hurrying up to the place to retrieve the battle. As he was running
+on he came up to the party at the grave.
+
+He stopped.
+
+"What's this?" he cried.
+
+"The prisoners--we were securing them."
+
+It was now lighter than it had been, and dawn was not far off. The
+features of Girasole were plainly distinguishable. They were convulsed
+with the most furious passion, which was not caused so much by the
+rage of conflict as by the sight of the prisoners. He had suspected
+treachery on their part, and had spared them for a time only so as to
+see whether his suspicions were true or not. But now this sudden
+assault by night, conducted so skillfully, and by such a powerful
+force, pointed clearly to treachery, as he saw it, and the ones who to
+him seemed most prominent in guilt were the priest and Ethel.
+
+His suspicions were quite reasonable under the circumstances. Here was
+a priest whom he regarded as his natural enemy. These brigands
+identified themselves with republicans and Garibaldians whenever it
+suited their purposes to do so, and consequently, as such, they were
+under the condemnation of the Pope; and any priest might think he was
+doing the Pope good service by betraying those who were his enemies.
+As to this priest, every thing was against him. He lived close by;
+every step of the country was no doubt familiar to him; he had come to
+the camp under very suspicious circumstances, bringing with him a
+stranger in disguise. He had given plausible answers to the
+cross-questioning of Girasole; but those were empty words, which went
+for nothing in the presence of the living facts that now stood before
+him in the presence of the enemy.
+
+These thoughts had all occurred to Girasole, and the sight of the two
+prisoners kindled his rage to madness. It was the deadliest purpose of
+vengeance that gleamed in his eyes as he looked upon them, and they
+knew it. He gave one glance, and then turned to his men.
+
+"On! on!" he cried; "I will join you in an instant; and you," he said
+to the guards, "wait a moment."
+
+The brigands rushed on with shouts to assist their comrades in the
+fight, while the other four waited.
+
+All this time the fight had not ceased. The air was filled with the
+reports of rifle-shots, the shouts of men, the yells of the wounded.
+The flashes seemed to be gradually drawing nearer, as though the
+assailants were still driving the brigands. But their progress was
+slow, for the fighting was carried on among the trees, and the
+brigands resisted stubbornly, retreating from cover to cover, and
+stopping every moment to make a fresh stand. But the assailants had
+gained much ground, and were already close by the borders of the lake,
+and advancing along toward the old stone house.
+
+The robbers had not succeeded in binding their prisoners. The priest
+and Ethel both stood where they had encountered Girasole, and the
+ropes fell from the robbers' hands at the new interruption. The grave
+with its mound was only a few feet away.
+
+Girasole had a pistol in his left hand and a sword in his right. He
+sheathed his sword and drew another pistol, keeping his eyes fixed
+steadily all the while upon his victims.
+
+"You needn't bind these prisoners," said Girasole, grimly; "I know a
+better way to secure them."
+
+"In the name of God," cried the priest, "I implore you not to shed
+innocent blood!"
+
+"Pooh!" said Girasole.
+
+"This lady is innocent; you will at least spare her!"
+
+"She shall die first!" said Girasole, in a fury, and reached out his
+hand to grasp Ethel. The priest flung himself forward between the two.
+Girasole dashed him aside.
+
+"Give us time to pray, for God's sake--one moment to pray!"
+
+"Not a moment!" cried Girasole, grasping at Ethel.
+
+Ethel gave a loud shriek and started away in horror. Girasole sprang
+after her. The four men turned to seize her. With a wild and frantic
+energy, inspired by the deadly terror that was in her heart, she
+bounded away toward the grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+BURIED ALIVE.
+
+
+Hawbury last vanished from the scene to a place which is but seldom
+resorted to by a living man. Once inside of his terrible retreat he
+became a prey to feelings of the most varied and harrowing character,
+in the midst of which there was a suspense, twofold, agonizing, and
+intolerable. First of all, his suspense was for Ethel, and then for
+himself. In that narrow and restricted retreat his senses soon became
+sharpened to an unusual degree of acuteness. Every touch against it
+communicated itself to his frame, as though the wood of his inclosure
+had become part of himself; and every sound intensified itself to an
+extraordinary degree of distinctness, as though the temporary loss of
+vision had been compensated for by an exaggeration of the sense of
+hearing. This was particularly the case as the priest drove in the
+screws. He heard the shuffle on the stairs, the whisper to Ethel, her
+retreat, and the ascending footsteps; while at the same time he was
+aware of the unalterable coolness of the priest, who kept calmly at
+his work until the very last moment. The screws seemed to enter his
+own frame, and the slight noise which was made, inaudible as it was to
+others, to him seemed loud enough to rouse all in the house.
+
+Then he felt himself raised and carried down stairs. Fortunately he
+had got in with his feet toward the door, and as that end was carried
+out first, his descent of the stairs was not attended with the
+inconvenience which he might have felt had it been taken down in an
+opposite direction.
+
+One fact gave him very great relief, for he had feared that his
+breathing would be difficult. Thanks, however, to the precautions of
+the priest, he felt no difficulty at all in that respect. The little
+bits of wood which prevented the lid from resting close to the coffin
+formed apertures which freely admitted all the air that was necessary.
+
+He was borne on thus from the house toward the grave, and heard the
+voice of the priest from time to time, and rightly supposed that the
+remarks of the priest were addressed not so much to the brigands as to
+himself, so as to let him know that he was not deserted. The journey
+to the grave was accomplished without any inconvenience, and the
+coffin was at length put upon the ground.
+
+Then it was lowered into the grave.
+
+There was something in this which was so horrible to Hawbury that an
+involuntary shudder passed through every nerve, and all the terror of
+the grave and the bitterness of death in that one moment seemed to
+descend upon him. He had not thought of this, and consequently was not
+prepared for it. He had expected that he would be put down somewhere
+on the ground, and that the priest would be able to get rid of the
+men, and effect his liberation before it had gone so far.
+
+It required an effort to prevent himself from crying out; and longer
+efforts were needed and more time before he could regain any portion
+of his self-control. He now heard the priest performing the burial
+rites; these seemed to him to be protracted to an amazing length; and
+so, indeed, they were; but to the inmate of that grave the time seemed
+longer far than it did to those who were outside. A thousand thoughts
+swept through his mind, and a thousand fears swelled within his heart.
+At last the suspicion came to him that the priest himself was unable
+to do any better, and this suspicion was confirmed as he detected the
+efforts which he made to get the men to leave the grave. This was
+particularly evident when he pretended to hear an alarm, by which he
+hoped to get rid of the brigands. It failed, however, and with this
+failure the hopes of Hawbury sank lower than ever.
+
+But the climax of his horror was attained as the first clod fell upon
+his narrow abode. It seemed like a death-blow. He felt it as if it had
+struck himself, and for a moment it was as though he had been stunned.
+The dull, heavy sound which those heard who stood above, to his ears
+became transformed and enlarged, and extended to something like a
+thunder-peal, with long reverberations through his now fevered and
+distempered brain. Other clods fell, and still others, and the work
+went on till his brain reeled, and under the mighty emotions of the
+hour his reason began to give way. Then all his fortitude and courage
+sank. All thought left him save the consciousness of the one horror
+that had now fixed itself upon his soul. It was intolerable. In
+another moment his despair would have overmastered him, and under its
+impulse he would have burst through all restraint, and turned all his
+energies toward forcing himself from his awful prison house.
+
+He turned himself over. He gathered himself up as well as he could.
+Already he was bracing himself for a mighty effort to burst up the
+lid, when suddenly the voice of Girasole struck upon his ear, and a
+wild fear for Ethel came to his heart, and the anguish of that fear
+checked at once all further thought of himself.
+
+He lay still and listened. He did this the more patiently as the men
+also stopped from their work, and as the hideous earth-clods no longer
+fell down. He listened. From the conversation he gathered pretty
+accurately the state of affairs. He knew that Ethel was there; that
+she had been discovered and dragged forth; that she was in danger. He
+listened in the anguish of a new suspense. He heard the words of the
+priest, his calm denial of treachery, his quiet appeal to Girasole's
+good sense. Then he heard the decision of Girasole, and the party
+walked away with their prisoners, and he was left alone.
+
+Alone!
+
+At any other time it would have been a terrible thing thus to be left
+alone in such a place, but now to him who was thus imprisoned it
+afforded a great relief. The work of burial, with all its hideous
+accompaniments, was stayed. He could collect his senses and make up
+his mind as to what he should do.
+
+Now, first of all, he determined to gain more air if possible. The
+earth that had fallen had covered up many of the chinks, so that his
+breathing had become sensibly more difficult. His confinement, with
+this oppression of his breathing, was intolerable. He therefore braced
+himself once more to make an effort. The coffin was large and rudely
+constructed, being merely an oblong box. He had more play to his
+limbs than he could have had in one of a more regular construction,
+and thus he was able to bring a great effort to bear upon the lid. He
+pressed. The screws gave way. He lifted it up to some distance. He
+drew in a long draught of fresh air, and felt in that one draught that
+he received new life and strength and hope.
+
+He now lay still and thought about what he should do next. If it had
+only been himself, he would, of course, have escaped in that first
+instant, and fled to the woods. But the thought of Ethel detained him.
+
+What was her position; and what could he do to save her? This was his
+thought.
+
+He knew that she, together with the priest, was in the hands of four
+of the brigands, who were commanded to keep their prisoners safe at
+the peril of their lives. Where they were he did not know, nor could
+he tell whether she was near or at a distance. Girasole had led them
+away.
+
+[Illustration:
+"IN AN INSTANT THE OCCUPANT OF THE GRAVE SPRANG FORTH."]
+
+He determined to look out and watch. He perceived that this grave, in
+the heart of the brigands' camp, afforded the very safest place in
+which he could be for the purpose of watching. Girasole's words had
+indicated that the work of burial would not be resumed that night, and
+if any passers-by should come they would avoid such a place as this.
+Here, then, he could stay until dawn at least, and watch unobserved.
+Perhaps he could find where Ethel was guarded; perhaps he could do
+something to distract the attention of the brigands, and afford her an
+opportunity for flight.
+
+He now arose, and, kneeling in the coffin, he raised the lid. The
+earth that was upon it fell down inside. He tilted the lid up, and
+holding it up thus with one hand, he put his head carefully out of the
+grave, and looked out in the direction where Girasole had gone with
+his prisoners. The knoll to which he had led them was a very
+conspicuous place, and had probably been selected for that reason,
+since it could be under his own observation, from time to time, even
+at a distance. It was about half-way between the grave and the nearest
+fire, which fire, though low, still gave forth some light, and the
+light was in a line with the knoll to Hawbury's eyes. The party on the
+knoll, therefore, appeared thrown out into relief by the faint
+fire-light behind them, especially the priest and Ethel.
+
+And now Hawbury kept his watch, and looked and listened and waited,
+ever mindful of his own immediate neighborhood, and guarding carefully
+against any approach. But his own place was in gloom, and no one would
+have thought of looking there, so that he was unobserved.
+
+But all his watching gave him no assistance toward finding out any way
+of rescuing Ethel. He saw the vigilant guard around the prisoners.
+Once or twice he saw a movement among them, but it was soon over, and
+resulted in nothing. Now he began to despond, and to speculate in his
+mind as to whether Ethel was in any danger or not. He began to
+calculate the time that might be required to go for help with which to
+attack the brigands. He wondered what reason Girasole might have to
+injure Ethel. But whatever hope he had that mercy might be shown her
+was counterbalanced by his own experience of Girasole's cruelty, and
+his knowledge of his merciless character.
+
+Suddenly he was roused by the rifle-shot and the confusion that
+followed. He saw the party on the mound start to their feet. He heard
+the shots that succeeded the first one. He saw shadows darting to and
+fro. Then the confusion grew worse, and all the sounds of battle
+arose--the cries, the shrieks, and the stern words of command.
+
+All this filled him with hope. An attack was being made. They might
+all be saved. He could see that the brigands were being driven back,
+and that the assailants were pressing on.
+
+Then he saw the party moving from the knoll. It was already much
+lighter. They advanced toward him. He sank down and waited. He had no
+fear now that this party would complete his burial. He thought they
+were flying with the prisoners. If so, the assailants would soon be
+here; he could join them, and lead them on to the rescue of Ethel.
+
+He lay low with the lid over him. He heard them close beside him. Then
+there was the noise of rushing men, and Girasole's voice arose.
+
+He heard all that followed.
+
+Then Ethel's shriek sounded out, as she sprang toward the grave.
+
+In an instant the occupant of the grave, seizing the lid, raised it
+up, and with a wild yell sprang forth.
+
+The effect was tremendous.
+
+The brigands thought the dead Antonio had come to life. They did not
+stop to look, but with a howl of awful terror, and in an anguish of
+fright, they turned and ran for their lives!
+
+Girasole saw him too, with equal horror, if not greater. He saw
+Hawbury. It was the man whom he had killed stone-dead with his own
+hand. He was there before him--or was it his ghost? For an instant
+horror paralyzed him; and then, with a yell like a madman's, he leaped
+back and fled after the others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+FLY! FLY!
+
+
+In the midst of that wild uproar which had roused Dacres and Mrs.
+Willoughby there was nothing that startled him so much as her
+declaration that she was not Arethusa. He stood bewildered. While she
+was listening to the sounds, he was listening to the echo of her
+words; while she was wondering at the cause of such a tumult, he was
+wondering at this disclosure. In a moment a thousand little things
+suggested themselves as he stood there in his confusion, which little
+things all went to throw a flood of light upon her statement, and
+prove that she was another person than that "demon wife" who had been
+the cause of all his woes. Her soft glance, her gentle manner, her
+sweet and tender expression--above all, the tone of her voice; all
+these at once opened his eyes. In the course of their conversation she
+had spoken in a low tone, often in a whisper, so that this fact with
+regard to the difference of voice had not been perceptible; but her
+last words were spoken louder, and he observed the difference.
+
+Now the tumult grew greater, and the reports of the rifles more
+frequent. The noise was communicated to the house, and in the rooms
+and the hall below there were tramplings of feet, and hurryings to and
+fro, and the rattle of arms, and the voices of men, in the midst of
+which rose the stern command of Girasole.
+
+"Forward! Follow me!"
+
+Then the distant reports grew nearer and yet nearer, and all the men
+rushed from the house, and their tramp was heard outside as they
+hurried away to the scene of conflict.
+
+"It's an attack! The brigands are attacked!" cried Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+Dacres said nothing. He was collecting his scattered thoughts.
+
+"Oh, may Heaven grant that we may be saved! Oh, it is the troops--it
+must be! Oh, Sir, come, come; help us to escape! My darling sister is
+here. Save her!"
+
+"Your sister?" cried Dacres.
+
+"Oh yes; come, save her! My sister--my darling Minnie!"
+
+With these words Mrs. Willoughby rushed from the room.
+
+"Her sister! her sister!" repeated Dacres--"Minnie Fay! _Her_ sister!
+Good Lord! What a most infernal ass I've been making of myself this
+last month!"
+
+He stood still for a few moments, overwhelmed by this thought, and
+apparently endeavoring to realize the full extent and enormous size
+and immense proportions, together with the infinite extent of ear,
+appertaining to the ass to which he had transformed himself; but
+finally he shook his head despondingly, as though he gave it up
+altogether. Then he hurried after Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby rushed into Minnie's room, and clasped her sister in
+her arms with frantic tears and kisses.
+
+"Oh, my precious darling!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Minnie, "isn't this really too bad? I was _so_ tired,
+you know, and I was just beginning to go to sleep, when those horrid
+men began firing their guns. I really do think that every body is
+banded together to tease me. I do _wish_ they'd all go away and let me
+have a little peace. I am so tired and sleepy!"
+
+While Minnie was saying this her sister was embracing her and kissing
+her and crying over her.
+
+"Oh, come, Minnie, come!" she cried; "make haste. We must fly!"
+
+"Where to?" said Minnie, wonderingly.
+
+"Any where--any where out of this awful place: into the woods."
+
+"Why, I don't see the use of going into the woods. It's all wet, you
+know. Can't we get a carriage?"
+
+"Oh no, no; we must not wait. They'll all be back soon and kill us."
+
+"Kill us! What for?" cried Minnie. "What do you mean? How silly you
+are, Kitty darling!"
+
+At this moment Dacres entered. The image of the immeasurable ass was
+still very prominent in his mind, and he had lost all his fever and
+delirium. One thought only remained (besides that of the ass, of
+course), and that was--escape.
+
+"Are you ready?" he asked, hurriedly.
+
+"Oh yes, yes; let us make haste," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I think no one is below," said he; "but I will go first. There is a
+good place close by. We will run there. If I fall, you must run on and
+try to get there. It is the bank just opposite. Once there, you are in
+the woods. Do you understand?"
+
+"Oh yes, yes!" cried Mrs. Willoughby. "Haste! Oh, haste!"
+
+Dacres turned, and Mrs. Willoughby had just grasped Minnie's hand to
+follow, when suddenly they heard footsteps below.
+
+They stopped, appalled.
+
+The robbers had not all gone, then. Some of them must have remained on
+guard. But how many?
+
+Dacres listened and the ladies listened, and in their suspense the
+beating of each heart was audible. The footsteps below could be heard
+going from room to room, and pausing in each.
+
+"There seems to be only one man," said Dacres, in a whisper. "If there
+is only one, I'll engage to manage him. While I grapple, you run for
+your lives. Remember the bank."
+
+"Oh yes; but oh, Sir, there may be more," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I'll see," said Dacres, softly.
+
+He went cautiously to the front window and looked out. By the
+increased light he could see quite plainly. No men were visible. From
+afar the noise of the strife came to his ears louder than ever, and he
+could see the flashes of the rifles.
+
+Dacres stole back again from the window and went to the door. He stood
+and listened.
+
+And now the footsteps came across the hall to the foot of the stairs.
+Dacres could see the figure of a solitary man, but it was dark in the
+hall, and he could not make him out.
+
+He began to think that there was only one enemy to encounter.
+
+The man below put his foot on the lowest stair.
+
+Then he hesitated.
+
+Dacres stood in the shadow of the other doorway, which was nearer to
+the head of the stairs, and prepared to spring as soon as the stranger
+should come within reach. But the stranger delayed still.
+
+At length he spoke:
+
+"Hallo, up there!"
+
+The sound of those simple words produced an amazing effect upon the
+hearers. Dacres sprang down with a cry of joy. "Come, come!" he
+shouted to the ladies; "friends are here!" And running down the
+stairs, he reached the bottom and grasped the stranger by both arms.
+
+In the dim light he could detect a tall, slim, sinewy form, with long,
+black, ragged hair and white neck-tie.
+
+"You'd best get out of this, and quick, too," said the Rev. Saul
+Tozer. "They're all off now, but they'll be back here in less than no
+time. I jest thought I'd look in to see if any of you folks was
+around."
+
+By this time the ladies were both at the bottom of the stairs.
+
+"Come!" said Tozer; "hurry up, folks. I'll take one lady and you take
+t'other."
+
+"Do you know the woods?"
+
+"Like a book."
+
+"So do I," said Dacres.
+
+He grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand and started.
+
+"But Minnie!" said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"You had better let him take her; it's safer for all of us," said
+Dacres.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked back as she was dragged on after Dacres, and
+saw Tozer following them, holding Minnie's hand. This reassured her.
+
+Dacres dragged her on to the foot of the bank. Here she tried to keep
+up with him, but it was steep, and she could not.
+
+Whereupon Dacres stopped, and, without a word, raised her in his arms
+as though she were a little child, and ran up the bank. He plunged
+into the woods. Then he ran on farther. Then he turned and doubled.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby begged him to put her down.
+
+"No," said he; "they are behind us. You can not go fast enough. I
+should have to wait and defend you, and then we would both be lost."
+
+"But, oh! we are losing Minnie."
+
+"No, we are not," cried Dacres; "that man is ten times stronger than I
+am. He is a perfect elephant in strength. He dashed past me up the
+hill."
+
+"I didn't see him."
+
+"Your face was turned the other way. He is ahead of us now somewhere."
+
+"Oh, I wish we _could_ catch up to him."
+
+[Illustration: "AT THIS DACRES RUSHED ON FASTER."]
+
+At this Dacres rushed on faster. The effort was tremendous. He leaped
+over fallen timbers, he burst through the underbrush.
+
+"Oh, I'm sure you'll _kill_ yourself if you go so fast," said Mrs.
+Willoughby. "We can't catch up to them."
+
+At this Dacres slackened his pace, and went on more carefully. She
+again begged him to put her down. He again refused. Upon this she felt
+perfectly helpless, and recalled, in a vague way, Minnie's ridiculous
+question of "How would you like to be run away with by a great, big,
+horrid man, Kitty darling?"
+
+Then she began to think he was insane, and felt very anxious.
+
+At last Dacres stopped. He was utterly exhausted. He was panting
+terribly. It had been a fearful journey. He had run along the bank up
+to that narrow valley which he had traversed the day before, and when
+he stopped it was on the top of that precipice where he had formerly
+rested, and where he had nurtured such dark purposes against Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked at him, full of pity. He was utterly broken
+down by this last effort.
+
+"Oh dear!" she thought. "Is he sane or insane? What _am_ I to do? It
+is dreadful to have to go on and humor his queer fancies."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+MINNIE'S LAST LIFE-PRESERVER.
+
+
+When Tozer started after Dacres he led Minnie by the hand for only a
+little distance. On reaching the acclivity he seized her in his arms,
+thus imitating Dacres's example, and rushed up, reaching the top
+before the other. Then he plunged into the woods, and soon became
+separated from his companion.
+
+Once in the woods, he went along quite leisurely, carrying Minnie
+without any difficulty, and occasionally addressing to her a soothing
+remark, assuring her that she was safe. Minnie, however, made no
+remark of any kind, good or bad, but remained quite silent, occupied
+with her own thoughts. At length Tozer stopped and put her down. It
+was a place upon the edge of a cliff on the shore of the lake, and as
+much as a mile from the house. The cliff was almost fifty feet high,
+and was perpendicular. All around was the thick forest, and it was
+unlikely that such a place could be discovered.
+
+[Illustration: "'WORSE AND WORSE,' SAID TOZER."]
+
+"Here," said he; "we've got to stop here, and it's about the right
+place. We couldn't get any where nigh to the soldiers without the
+brigands seeing us; so we'll wait here till the fight's over, and the
+brigands all chased off."
+
+"The soldiers! what soldiers?" asked Minnie.
+
+"Why, they're having a fight over there--the soldiers are attacking
+the brigands."
+
+"Well, I didn't know. Nobody told me. And did you come with the
+soldiers?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. I came with the priest and the young lady."
+
+"But you were not at the house?"
+
+"No. They wouldn't take me all the way. The priest said I couldn't be
+disguised--but I don't see why not--so he left me in the woods till he
+came back. And then the soldiers came, and we crept on till we came
+nigh the lake. Well, then I stole away; and when they made an attack
+the brigands all ran there to fight, and I watched till I saw the
+coast clear; and so I came, and here we are."
+
+Minnie now was quite silent and preoccupied, and occasionally she
+glanced sadly at Tozer with her large, pathetic, child-like eyes. It
+was a very piteous look, full of the most tender entreaty. Tozer
+occasionally glanced at her, and then, like her, he sat silent,
+involved in his own thoughts.
+
+"And so," said Minnie at last, "you're not the priest himself?"
+
+"The priest?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, no; I don't call myself a priest. I'm a minister of the
+Gospel."
+
+"Well, you're not a _real_ priest, then."
+
+"All men of my calling are real priests--yes, priests and kings. I
+yield to no man in the estimate which I set upon my high and holy
+calling."
+
+"Oh, but I mean a Roman Catholic priest," said Minnie.
+
+"A Roman Catholic priest! Me! Why, what a question! Me! a Roman
+Catholic! Why, in our parts folks call me the Protestant Champion."
+
+"Oh, and so you're only a Protestant, after all," said Minnie, in a
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Only a Protestant!" repeated Tozer, severely--"_only_ a Protestant.
+Why, ain't you one yourself?"
+
+"Oh yes; but I hoped you were the other priest, you know. I did _so_
+want to have a Roman Catholic priest this time."
+
+Tozer was silent. It struck him that this young lady was in danger.
+Her wish for a Roman Catholic priest boded no good. She had just come
+from Rome. No doubt she had been tampered with. Some Jesuits had
+caught her, and had tried to proselytize her. His soul swelled with
+indignation at the thought.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Minnie again.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Tozer, in a sympathizing voice.
+
+"I'm so sorry."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Why, that you saved my life, you know."
+
+"Sorry? sorry? that I saved your life?" repeated Tozer, in amazement.
+
+"Oh, well, you know, I did so want to be saved by a Roman Catholic
+priest, you know."
+
+"To be saved by a Roman Catholic priest!" repeated Tozer, pondering
+these words in his mind as he slowly pronounced them. He could make
+nothing of them at first, but finally concluded that they concealed
+some half-suggested tendency to Rome.
+
+"I don't like this--I don't like this," he said, solemnly.
+
+"What don't you like?"
+
+"It's dangerous. It looks bad," said Tozer, with increased solemnity.
+
+"What's dangerous? You look so solemn that you really make me feel
+quite nervous. What's dangerous?"
+
+"Why, your words. I see in you, I think, a kind of leaning toward
+Rome."
+
+"It isn't Rome," said Minnie. "I don't lean to Rome. I only lean a
+little toward a Roman Catholic priest."
+
+"Worse and worse," said Tozer. "Dear! dear! dear! worse _and_ worse.
+This beats all. Young woman, beware! But perhaps I don't understand
+you. You surely don't mean that your affections are engaged to any
+Roman Catholic priest. You can't mean _that_. Why, they can't marry."
+
+"But that's just what I like them so for," said Minnie. "I like people
+that don't marry; I hate people that want to marry."
+
+Tozer turned this over in his mind, but could make nothing of it. At
+length he thought he saw in this an additional proof that she had been
+tampered with by Jesuits at Rome. He thought he saw in this a
+statement of her belief in the Roman Catholic doctrine of celibacy.
+
+He shook his head more solemnly than ever. "It's not Gospel," said he.
+"It's mere human tradition. Why, for centuries there was a married
+priesthood even in the Latin Church. Dunstan's chief measures
+consisted in a fierce war on the married clergy. So did
+Hildebrand's--Gregory the Seventh, you know. The Church at Milan,
+sustained by the doctrines of the great Ambrose, always preferred a
+married clergy. The worst measures of Hildebrand were against these
+good pastors and their wives. And in the Eastern Church they have
+always had it."
+
+Of course all this was quite beyond Minnie; so she gave a little sigh,
+and said nothing.
+
+"Now as to Rome," resumed Tozer. "Have you ever given a careful study
+to the Apocalypse--not a hasty reading, as people generally do, but a
+serious, earnest, and careful examination?"
+
+"I'm sure I haven't any idea what in the world you're talking about,"
+said Minnie. "I _wish_ you wouldn't talk so. I don't understand one
+single word of what you say."
+
+Tozer started and stared at this. It was a depth of ignorance that
+transcended that of the other young lady with whom he had conversed.
+But he attributed it all to "Roman" influences. They dreaded the
+Apocalypse, and had not allowed either of these young ladies to become
+acquainted with its tremendous pages. Moreover, there was something
+else. There was a certain light and trifling tone which she used in
+referring to these things, and it pained him. He sat involved in a
+long and very serious consideration of her case, and once or twice
+looked at her with so very peculiar an expression that Minnie began to
+feel very uneasy indeed.
+
+Tozer at length cleared his throat, and fixed upon Minnie a very
+affectionate and tender look.
+
+"My dear young friend," said he, "have you ever reflected upon the way
+you are living?"
+
+At this Minnie gave him a frightened little look, and her head fell.
+
+"You are young now, but you can't be young always; youth and beauty
+and loveliness all are yours, but they can't last; and now is the time
+for you to make your choice--now in life's gay morn. It ain't easy
+when you get old. Remember that, my dear. Make your choice now--now."
+
+"Oh dear!" said Minnie; "I knew it. But I can't--and I don't want
+to--and I think it's _very_ unkind in you. I don't want to make _any_
+choice. I don't want any of you. It's _so_ horrid."
+
+This was a dreadful shock to Tozer; but he could not turn aside from
+this beautiful yet erring creature.
+
+"Oh, I entreat you--I implore you, my dear, _dear_--"
+
+"I do _wish_ you wouldn't talk to me that way, and call me your
+_dear_. I don't like it; no, not even if you _did_ save my life,
+though really I didn't know there was any danger. But I'm not _your_
+dear."
+
+And Minnie tossed her head with a little air of determination, as
+though she had quite made up her mind on that point.
+
+"Oh, well now, really now," said Tozer, "it was only a natural
+expression. I _do_ take a deep interest in you, my--that is--miss; I
+feel a sincere regard and affection and--"
+
+"But it's no use," said Minnie. "You really _can't,_ you know; and so,
+why, you _mustn't_, you know."
+
+Tozer did not clearly understand this, so after a brief pause he
+resumed:
+
+"But what I was saying is of far more importance. I referred to your
+life. Now you're not happy as you are."
+
+"Oh yes, but I am," said Minnie, briskly.
+
+Tozer sighed.
+
+"I'm _very_ happy," continued Minnie, "very, very happy--that is, when
+I'm with dear, darling Kitty, and dear, dear Ethel, and my darling old
+Dowdy, and dear, kind papa."
+
+Tozer sighed again.
+
+"You can't be _truly_ happy thus," he said, mournfully. "You may think
+you are, but you _ain't_. My heart fairly yearns over you when I see
+you, so young, so lovely, and so innocent; and I know you can't be
+happy as you are. You must live otherwise. And oh, I pray you--I
+entreat you to set your affections elsewhere!"
+
+"Well, then, I think it's very, very horrid in you to press me so,"
+said, Minnie, with something actually like asperity in her tone; "but
+it's _quite_ impossible."
+
+"But oh, why?"
+
+"Why, because I don't want to have things any different. But if I have
+to be worried and teased so, and if people insist on it so, why,
+there's only one that I'll _ever_ consent to."
+
+"And what is that?" asked Tozer, looking at her with the most
+affectionate solicitude.
+
+"Why, it's--it's--" Minnie paused, and looked a little confused.
+
+"It's what?" asked Tozer, with still deeper and more anxious interest.
+
+"Why, it's--it's--Rufus K. Gunn."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE IMPATIENT BARON.
+
+
+The brigands had resisted stubbornly, but finally found themselves
+without a leader. Girasole had disappeared; and as his voice no longer
+directed their movements, they began to fall into confusion. The
+attacking party, on the other hand, was well led, and made a steady
+advance, driving the enemy before them. At length the brigands lost
+heart, and took to flight. With a wild cheer the assailants followed
+in pursuit. But the fugitives took to the forest, and were soon beyond
+the reach of their pursuers in its familiar intricacies, and the
+victors were summoned back by the sound of the trumpet.
+
+[Illustration: "THE DISCOVERY OF A BODY ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE."]
+
+It was now daylight, and as the conquering party emerged from the
+forest they showed the uniform of the Papal Zouaves; while their
+leader, who had shown himself so skillful in forest warfare, proved to
+be no less a personage than our friend the Baron. Led by him, the
+party advanced to the old stone house, and here, drawing up his men in
+front, their leader rushed in, and searched every room. To his
+amazement, he found the house deserted, its only inmate being that
+dead brigand whom Girasole had mistaken for Hawbury. This discovery
+filled the Baron with consternation. He had expected to find the
+prisoners here, and his dismay and grief were excessive. At first he
+could not believe in his ill luck; but another search convinced him of
+it, and reduced him to a state of perfect bewilderment.
+
+But he was not one who could long remain inactive. Feeling confident
+that the brigands were scattered every where in headlong flight, he
+sent his men out in different directions, into the woods and along the
+shore, to see if they could find any traces of the lost ones. He
+himself remained near the house, so as to direct the search most
+efficiently. After about an hour they came back, one by one, without
+being able to find many traces. One had found an empty coffin in a
+grave, another a woman's hood, a third had found a scarf. All of these
+had endeavored to follow up these traces, but without result. Finally
+a man approached who announced the discovery of a body on the shore of
+the lake. After him came a party who was carrying the corpse for the
+inspection of their captain.
+
+The Baron went to look at it. The body showed a great gap in the
+skull. On questioning the men, he learned that they had found it on
+the shore, at the bottom of a steep rock, about half-way between the
+house and the place where they had first emerged from the woods. His
+head was lying pressed against a sharp rock in such a way that it was
+evident that he had fallen over the cliff, and had been instantly
+killed. The Baron looked at the face, and recognized the features of
+Girasole. He ordered it to be taken away and laid in the empty grave
+for future burial.
+
+The Baron now became impatient. This was not what he had bargained for
+at all. At length he thought that they might have fled, and might now
+be concealed in the woods around; and together with this thought there
+came to his mind an idea of an effective way to reach them. The
+trumpeter could send forth a blast which could be heard far and wide.
+But what might, could, would, or should the trumpeter sound forth
+which should give the concealed listeners a certainty that the summons
+came from friends and not from foes? This the Baron puzzled over for
+some time. At length he solved this problem also, and triumphantly.
+
+There was one strain which the trumpeter might sound that could not be
+mistaken. It would at once convey to the concealed hearers all the
+truth, and gently woo them home. It would be at once a note of
+victory, a song of joy, a call of love, a sound of peace, and an
+invitation--"Wanderer, come home!"
+
+Of course there was only one tune that, to the mind of the Baron, was
+capable of doing this.
+
+And of course that tune was "Yankee Doodle."
+
+Did the trumpeter know it?
+
+Of course he did.
+
+Who does not know it?
+
+All men know that tune. Man is born with an innate knowledge of the
+strain of "Yankee Doodle." No one can remember when he first learned
+it. The reason is because he never learned it at all. It was born in
+him.
+
+So the trumpeter sounded it forth, and wild and high and clear and far
+the sounds arose; and it was "Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes
+flying; and answer, echoes, answer, Yankee Doodle dying."
+
+And while the trumpet sounded the Baron listened and listened, and
+walked up and down, and fretted and fumed and chafed, and I'm afraid
+he swore a little too; and at last he was going to tell the trumpeter
+to stop his infernal noise, when, just at that moment, what should he
+see all of a sudden emerging from the woods but three figures!
+
+And I'll leave you to imagine, if you can, the joy and delight which
+agitated the bosom of our good Baron as he recognized among these
+three figures the well-known face and form of his friend Hawbury. With
+Hawbury was a lady whom the Baron remembered having seen once in the
+upper hall of a certain house in Rome, on a memorable occasion, when
+he stood on the stairs calling _Min_. The lady was very austere then,
+but she was very gracious now, and very wonderfully sweet in the
+expression of her face. And with them was a stranger in the garb of a
+priest.
+
+Now as soon as the party met the Baron, who rushed to meet them,
+Hawbury wrung his hand, and stared at him in unbounded astonishment.
+
+"You!" he cried; "yourself, old boy! By Jove!"
+
+"Yes," said the Baron. "You see, the moment we got into that ambush I
+kept my eye open, and got a chance to spring into the woods. There I
+was all right, and ran for it. I got into the road again a couple of
+miles back, got a horse, rode to Civita Castellana, and there I was
+lucky enough to find a company of Zouaves. Well, Sir, we came here
+flying, mind, I tell you, and got hold of a chap that we made guide us
+to the lake. Then we opened on them; and here we are, by thunder! But
+where's Min?"
+
+"Who?" asked Hawbury.
+
+"Min," said the Baron, in the most natural tone in the world.
+
+"Oh! Why, isn't she here?"
+
+"No. We've hunted every where. No one's here at all." And the Baron
+went on to tell about their search and its results. Hawbury was
+chiefly struck by the news of Girasole.
+
+"He must have gone mad with terror," said Hawbury, as he told the
+Baron about his adventure at the grave. "If that's so," he added, "I
+don't see how the ladies could be harmed. I dare say they've run off.
+Why, we started to run, and got so far off that we couldn't find our
+way back, even after the trumpet began to sound. You must keep blowing
+at it, you know. Play all the national tunes you can--no end. They'll
+find their way back if you give them time."
+
+And now they all went back to the house, and the Baron in his anxiety
+could not talk any more, but began his former occupation of walking up
+and down, and fuming and fretting and chafing, and, I'm again afraid,
+swearing--when all of a sudden, on the bank in front of him, on the
+very top, just emerging from the thick underbrush which had concealed
+them till that moment, to their utter amazement and indescribable
+delight, they beheld Scone Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby. Scone Dacres
+appeared to Hawbury to be in a totally different frame of mind from
+that in which he had been when he last saw him; and what perplexed him
+most, yea, and absolutely confounded him, was the sight of Scone
+Dacres with his demon wife, whom he had been pursuing for the sake of
+vengeance, and whose frenzy had been so violent that he himself had
+been drawn with him on purpose to try and restrain him. And now what
+was the injured husband doing with his demon wife? Doing! why, doing
+the impassioned lover most vigorously; sustaining her steps most
+tenderly; grasping her hand; pushing aside the bushes; assisting her
+down the slope; overwhelming her, in short; hovering round her,
+apparently unconscious that there was in all the wide world any other
+being than Mrs. Willoughby. And as Hawbury looked upon all this his
+eyes dilated and his lips parted involuntarily in utter wonder; and
+finally, as Dacres reached the spot, the only greeting which he could
+give his friend was,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+And now, while Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel were embracing with tears of
+joy, and overwhelming one another with questions, the Baron sought
+information from Dacres.
+
+Dacres then informed him all about Tozer's advent and departure.
+
+"Tozer!" cried the Baron, in intense delight. "Good on his darned old
+head! Hurrah for the parson! He shall marry us for this--he, and no
+other, by thunder!"
+
+Upon which Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel exchanged glances, but said not a
+word. Not they.
+
+But in about five minutes, when Mrs. Willoughby had Ethel apart a
+little by herself, she said,
+
+"Oh, Ethel dear, isn't it dreadful?"
+
+"What?" asked Ethel.
+
+"Why, poor Minnie."
+
+"Poor Minnie?"
+
+"Yes. Another horrid man. And he'll be claiming her too. And, oh dear!
+what shall I do?"
+
+"Why, you'll have to let her decide for herself. I think it will
+be--this person."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby clasped her hands, and looked up with a pretty little
+expression of horror.
+
+"And do you know, dear," added Ethel, "I'm beginning to think that it
+wouldn't be so _very_ bad. He's Lord Hawbury's friend, you know, and
+then he's very, very brave; and, above all, think what we all owe
+him."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby gave a resigned sigh.
+
+And now the Baron was wilder with impatience than ever. He had
+questioned Dacres, and found that he could give him no information
+whatever as to Tozer's route, and consequently had no idea where to
+search. But he still had boundless confidence in "Yankee Doodle."
+
+"That's the way," said Dacres; "we heard it ever so far, and it was
+the first thing that told us it was safe to return. We didn't dare to
+venture before."
+
+Meanwhile Hawbury had got Dacres by himself, and poured a torrent of
+questions over him. Dacres told him in general terms how he was
+captured. Then he informed him how Mrs. Willoughby was put in the same
+room, and his discovery that it was Minnie that the Italian wanted.
+
+"Well, do you know, old chap," continued Dacres, "I couldn't stand it;
+so I offered to make it all up with her."
+
+"Oh, I see you've done that, old boy. Congrat--"
+
+"Pooh! wait a minute," said Dacres, interrupting him. "Well, you know,
+she wasn't my wife at all."
+
+At this Hawbury stood utterly aghast.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"She wasn't my wife at all. She looks confoundedly like what my wife
+was at her best, but she's another person. It's a most extraordinary
+likeness; and yet she's isn't any relation, but a great deal prettier
+woman. What made me so sure, you know, was the infernally odd
+coincidence of the name; and then I only saw her off and on, you know,
+and I never heard her voice. Then, you know, I was mad with jealousy;
+and so I made myself worse and worse, till I was ripe for murder,
+arson, assasination, and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+To all this Hawbury listened in amazement, and could not utter a word,
+until at last, as Dacres paused, he said,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, old man, I was the most infernal ass that ever lived. And how I
+must have bored you!"
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury again. "But drive on, old boy."
+
+"Well, you know, the row occurred just then, and away went the
+scoundrels to the fight, and in came that parson fellow, and away we
+went. I took Mrs. Willoughby to a safe place, where I kept her till I
+heard the trumpet, you know. And I've got another thing to tell you.
+It's deuced odd, but she knew all about me."
+
+"The deuce she did!"
+
+"Yes, the whole story. Lived somewhere in the county. But I don't
+remember the Fays. At any rate, she lived there; and do you know, old
+fellow, the county people used to think I beat my wife!"
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Yes; and afterward they raised a report that my cruelty had driven
+her mad. But I had a few friends that stood up for me; and among
+others these Fays, you know, had heard the truth of it, and, as it
+happened, Kitty--"
+
+"Kitty?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Willoughby, I mean--her name's Kitty--has always known the
+truth about it; and when she saw me at Naples she felt interested in
+me."
+
+"Oho!" and Hawbury opened his eyes.
+
+"Well, she knew all about it; and, among other things, she gave me one
+piece of intelligence that has eased my mind."
+
+"Ah! what's that?"
+
+"Why, my wife _is_ dead."
+
+"Oh, then there's no doubt about it?"
+
+"Not a bit. She died eight years ago, and in an insane asylum."
+
+"By Jove! Then she was mad all the time."
+
+"Yes; that accounts for it, and turns all my curses into pity."
+
+Dacres was silent now for a few moments. At length he looked at
+Hawbury with a very singular expression.
+
+"Hawbury, old boy."
+
+"Well, Sconey?"
+
+"I think we'll keep it up."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, Kitty and I--that is, Mrs. Willoughby and I--her name's Kitty,
+you know."
+
+"Keep what up?"
+
+"Why, the--the--the fond illusion, and all that sort of thing. You see
+I've got into such an infernal habit of regarding her as my wife that
+I can't look on her in any other light. I claimed her, you know, and
+all that sort of thing, and she thought I was delirious, and felt
+sorry, and humored me, and gave me a very favorable answer."
+
+"Humored you?"
+
+"Yes; that's what she says now, you know. But I'm holding her to it,
+and I've every reason to believe, you know--in fact, I may as well say
+that it is an understood thing, you know, that she'll let it go, you
+know, and at some early day, you know, we'll have it all formally
+settled, and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+Hawbury wrung his friend's hand.
+
+"See here, old boy; you see Ethel there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who do you think she is?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"_Ethel Orne_!"
+
+"Ethel _Orne_!" cried Dacres, as the whole truth flashed on his mind.
+"What a devil of a jumble every thing has been getting into!--By
+Heaven, dear boy, I congratulate you from the bottom of my soul!"
+
+And he wrung Hawbury's hand as though all his soul was in that grasp.
+
+But all this could not satisfy the impatience of the Baron. This was
+all very well in its way, merely as an episode; but he was waiting for
+the chief incident of the piece, and the chief incident was delaying
+very unaccountably.
+
+So he strode up and down, and he fretted and he fumed and he chafed,
+and the trumpeter kept blowing away.
+
+Until at last--
+
+Just before his eyes--
+
+Up there on the top of the bank, not far from where Dacres and Mrs.
+Willoughby had made their appearance, the Baron caught sight of a
+tall, lank, slim figure, clothed in rusty black, whose thin and
+leathery face, rising above a white neck-tie, peered solemnly yet
+interrogatively through the bushes; while just behind him the Baron
+caught a glimpse of the flutter of a woman's dress.
+
+[Illustration:
+"HE GAVE A LOUD CRY OF JOY, AND THEN SPRANG UP THE BANK."]
+
+He gave a loud cry of joy, and then sprang up the bank.
+
+       *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+But over that meeting I think we had better draw a veil.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+ASTONISHING WAY OF CONCLUDING AN ADVENTURE.
+
+
+The meeting between the Baron and Minnie gave a new shock to poor Mrs.
+Willoughby, who looked with a helpless expression, and walked away for
+a little distance. Dacres and Hawbury were still eagerly conversing
+and questioning one another about their adventures. Tozer also had
+descended and joined himself to the priest; and each of these groups
+had leisure for a prolonged conversation before they were interrupted.
+At length Minnie made her appearance, and flung herself into her
+sister's arms, while at the same time the Baron grasped Tozer by both
+hands, and called out, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all,
+
+"You shall marry us, parson--and this very day, by thunder!"
+
+These words came to Mrs. Willoughby's ears in the midst of her first
+joy at meeting her sister, and shocked her inexpressibly.
+
+"What's that, Minnie darling?" she asked, anxiously. "What is it? Did
+you hear what that dreadful--what the--the Baron said?"
+
+Minnie looked sweetly conscious, but said nothing.
+
+"What _does_ he mean?" asked her sister again.
+
+"I suppose he means what he says," replied Minnie, with a timid air,
+stealing a shy look at the Baron.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Willoughby; "there's another dreadful trouble, I
+know. It's very, very hard--"
+
+"Well, I'm sure," said Minnie, "I can't help it. They all do so. That
+clergyman came and saved me, and he wasn't a Roman Catholic clergyman
+at all, and he proposed--"
+
+"Proposed!" cried Mrs. Willoughby, aghast.
+
+"Oh yes," said Minnie, solemnly; "and I had hard work preventing him.
+But, really, it was _too_ absurd, and I would not let him be too
+explicit. But I didn't hurt his feelings. Well, you know, then all of
+a sudden, as we were sitting there, the bugle sounded, and we came
+back. Well, then, Rufus K. Gunn came--and you know how very violent he
+is in his way--and he said he saved my life again, and so he
+proposed."
+
+"_He_ proposed! Why, he had proposed before."
+
+"Oh yes; but that was for an engagement, and this was for our
+marriage."
+
+"Marriage!"
+
+"Oh yes; and, you see, he had actually saved my life twice, and he was
+very urgent, and he is so awfully affectionate, and so--"
+
+"Well, what?" cried Mrs. Willoughby, seeing Minnie hesitate.
+
+"Why, he--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I mean, I--"
+
+"You what? Really, Minnie dearest, you might tell me, and not keep me
+in such dreadful suspense."
+
+"Why, what could I say?"
+
+"But what _did_ you say?"
+
+"Why, I think I--said--yes," said Minnie, casting down her eyes with
+indescribable sweetness, shyness, meekness, and resignation. Mrs.
+Willoughby actually shuddered.
+
+"Now, Kitty," exclaimed Minnie, who at once noticed it, "you needn't
+be so horrid. I'm sure you can't say any thing against him _now_. You
+needn't look so. You _always_ hated him. You _never_ would treat him
+kindly."
+
+"But this--this marriage. It's too shocking."
+
+"Well, he saved my life."
+
+"And to-day! How utterly preposterous! It's shameful!"
+
+"Well, I'm sure I can't help it."
+
+"It's too horrid!" continued Mrs. Willoughby, in an excited tone. "It
+will break poor papa's heart. And it will break poor darling aunty's
+heart. And it will break my heart."
+
+"Now, Kitty dearest, this is too silly in you. If it hadn't been for
+him, I would now be married to that wretched Count, who hadn't
+sufficient affection for me to get me a chair to sit on, and who was
+very, very rude to you. You didn't care, though, whether I was married
+to him or not; and now when I am saved from him you have nothing but
+very unpleasant things to say about Rufus K. Gunn."
+
+"Oh dear, what _would_ I give if you were only safe home!"
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't see what _I_ can do. People are always saving
+my life. And there is Captain Kirby hunting all over Italy for me. And
+I _know_ I will be saved by somebody--if--if--I--I--if--I--if--you
+know--that is--I'm sure--"
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby, as Minnie broke down in confusion.
+"It is _too_ absurd. I won't talk about it. You are a silly child. Oh,
+how I _do_ wish you were home!"
+
+At this juncture the conversation was interrupted by the Baron.
+
+"It is not my fashion, ma'am," said he, gravely, "to remind another of
+any obligation under which he may be to me; but my claims on Minnie
+have been so opposed by you and the rest of her friends that I have to
+ask you to think of them. Your father knows what my first claims are.
+You yourself, ma'am, know perfectly well what the last claims are
+which I have won to-day."
+
+The Baron spoke calmly, firmly, and with dignity. Mrs. Willoughby
+answered not a word.
+
+"If you think on your position last night, and Minnie's, ma'am,"
+resumed the Baron, "you'll acknowledge, I expect, that it was pretty
+hard lines. What would you have given a few hours ago for a sight of
+my uniform in that old house yonder? If I had come then to save Minnie
+from the clutches of that _I_talian, wouldn't you have given her to me
+with all your heart, and your prayers too? You would, by thunder!
+Think, ma'am, on your sufferings last night, and then answer me."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby involuntarily thought of that night of horror, and
+shuddered, and said nothing.
+
+"Now, ma'am, just listen to this. I find on coming here that this
+Italian had a priest here all ready to marry him and Minnie. If I'd
+been delayed or defeated, Minnie would have been that rascal's wife by
+this time. The priest was here. They would have been married as sure
+as you're born. You, ma'am, would have had to see this poor,
+trembling, broken-hearted, despairing girl torn from your arms, and
+bound by the marriage tie to a ruffian and a scoundrel whom she
+loathed. And now, ma'am, I save her from this. I have my priest too,
+ma'am. He ain't a Roman Catholic, it is true--he's an orthodox
+parson--but, at the same time, I ain't particular. Now I propose to
+avail myself this day of his invaluable services at the earliest hour
+possible; but, at the same time, if Min prefers it, I don't object to
+the priest, for I have a kind of Roman Catholic leaning myself.
+
+"Now you may ask, ma'am," continued the Baron, as Mrs. Willoughby
+continued silent--"you may ask why I'm in such a thundering hurry. My
+answer is, because you fit me off so. You tried to keep me from Min.
+You locked me out of your house. You threatened to hand me over to the
+police (and I'd like to see one of them try it on with me). You said I
+was mad or drunk; and finally you tried to run away. Then you rejected
+my advice, and plunged head-foremost into this fix. Now, in view of
+all this, my position is this--that I can't trust you. I've got Min
+now, and I mean to keep her. If you got hold of her again, I feel it
+would be the last of her. Consequently I ain't going to let her go.
+Not me. Not by a long chalk.
+
+"Finally, ma'am, if you'll allow me, I'll touch upon another point.
+I've thought over your objections to me. It ain't my rank--I'm a
+noble; it ain't money--I'm worth a hundred thousand dollars; it ain't
+my name--for I call myself Atramonte. It must be something in me. I've
+come to the conclusion that it's my general style--my manners and
+customs. Very well. Perhaps they don't come up to your standard. They
+mayn't square with your ideas. Yet, let me inform you, ma'am, there
+are other standards of action and manner and speech than those to
+which you are accustomed, and mine is one of them. Minnie doesn't
+object to that. She knows my heart is all right, and is willing to
+trust herself to me. Consequently I take her, and I mean to make her
+mine this day."
+
+As the Baron paused Mrs. Willoughby began, first of all, to express
+her gratitude, and then to beg him to postpone the marriage. She
+declared that it was an unheard-of thing, that it was shameful, that
+it was shocking, that it was dreadful. She grew very much excited; she
+protested, she entreated. Finally she burst into tears, and appealed
+to Lord Hawbury in the most moving terms. Hawbury listened very
+gravely, with his eyes wandering over to where Ethel was; and Ethel
+caught the expression of his face, and looked quite confused.
+
+"Oh, think, only think," said Mrs. Willoughby, after an eloquent and
+pathetic appeal--"think how the poor child will be talked about!"
+
+"Well, really--ah--'pon my life," said Hawbury, with his eyes still
+wandering over toward Ethel, "I'm sure I don't--ah--share your views
+altogether, Mrs. Willoughby; for--ah--there _are_ times, you know,
+when a fellow finds it very uncommonly desirable--runaway matches, you
+know, and all that sort of thing. And, by Jove! to tell the truth, I
+really admire the idea, by Jove! And really--ah--I'm sure--I wish most
+confoundedly it was the universal fashion, by Jove!"
+
+"But she'll be so talked about. She'll make herself so shockingly
+_conspicuous_."
+
+"Conspicuous? By Jove!" said Hawbury, who seemed struck by the idea.
+At that moment Minnie began talking to her sister, and Hawbury went
+off to Ethel, to whom he began talking in the most earnest manner. The
+two wandered off for some distance, and did not return for a full half
+hour. When they did return Ethel looked somewhat embarrassed, and
+Hawbury was radiant. With this radiance on his face he went up to Mrs.
+Willoughby, leaving Ethel in the background.
+
+"Oh, by-the-way," said he, "you were remarking that your sister would
+be too conspicuous by such a hasty marriage."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Willoughby, anxiously.
+
+"Well, I thought I would tell you that she needn't be so _very_
+conspicuous; for, in fact--that is, you know, Ethel and I--she told
+you, I suppose, about our mistake?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"And I think I've persuaded her to save Minnie from being too
+conspicuous."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby gave Hawbury a look of astonishment and reproach.
+
+"You!" she cried; "and Ethel!"
+
+"Why, I'm sure, we're the very ones you might expect it from. Think
+how infernally we've been humbugged by fate."
+
+"Fate!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "It was all your own fault. She was
+chosen for you."
+
+"Chosen for me? What do you mean?"
+
+"By your mother."
+
+"My mother?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She said one of Biggs's nieces."
+
+"Ethel is that niece."
+
+"The devil!" cried Hawbury. "I beg pardon. By Jove!"
+
+Hawbury, overwhelmed by this, went back to Ethel, and they wandered
+off once more. The Baron had already wandered off with Minnie in
+another direction. Tozer and the priest had gone to survey the house.
+
+Seeing Mrs. Willoughby thus left alone, Dacres drifted up to her. He
+came up silently.
+
+"Kitty," said he, in a low voice, "you seem sad."
+
+By which familiar address it will be seen that Dacres had made some
+progress toward intimacy with her.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby did not seem at all offended at this, but looked up
+with one of her frankest smiles, and the clouds of perplexity passed
+away. She was an exceedingly pretty woman, and she was certainly not
+over twenty-four.
+
+"I'm so worried," she said, plaintively.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Dacres, in a tone of the deepest and
+tenderest sympathy.
+
+"Why, these horrid men; and, what's worse, Lord Hawbury is actually
+encouraging Mr.--the--the Baron; and I'm _so_ worried. Oh dear!"
+
+"But why should you be worried?"
+
+"It's so horrid. It's shocking. It's not to be thought of."
+
+"But why not?" asked Dacres.
+
+"Why, it's--it's so horrid," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+Dacres stood looking at her for a long time.
+
+"Kitty," said he at last.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked up.
+
+Dacres looked all around. He then took her hand.
+
+"Isn't it too bad," he said, "to let Minnie--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"To let her go through this ordeal alone?"
+
+"Alone!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, looking in wonder at him.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?"
+
+"Couldn't _we_ accompany her?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby snatched away her hand.
+
+"Are you mad?" she cried. "I do believe the whole world's mad to-day."
+
+"Mad!" cried Dacres. "Yes, I'm mad--insane--raving! Won't you be
+merciful again? Won't you, Kitty? Won't you 'humor' my ravings? Oh,
+do. Oh, Kitty! dear Kitty--!"
+
+"It's positive insanity!"
+
+"Oh, Kitty!"
+
+"You're raving!"
+
+"Won't you 'humor' me--just this once! only this once."
+
+"Hush! there they come," said Mrs. Willoughby, suddenly snatching away
+her hand, which Dacres had somehow got hold of again, and moving a
+little further away from him.
+
+It was the Baron and Minnie who were coming back again, while Hawbury
+and Ethel were seen a little further away.
+
+There they all stood--there, on the spot where they had found the
+crisis of their fortunes; and as they stood there the two clergymen,
+Catholic and Protestant, slowly came out of the house.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+Errors and anomalies noted by transcriber:
+
+  dextrously (both occurrences); cariboo; Guiseppe; assasination
+    [spelling unchanged]
+  It seems con-foundedly odd
+  de-nomination
+    [hyphens in original]
+
+  perfectly cool and lady-like."
+    [missing close quote]
+  "Well, he said--he said, 'Yes, darling'--and--"
+    [missing open quote before "Yes"]
+  I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear--"
+    [missing close quote]
+  "Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you...
+    [missing open quote]
+
+  Potes ne juvare nos [spacing in original]
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN BARON***
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+<body>
+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The American Baron, by James De Mille,
+Illustrated by William Ludwell Sheppard</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The American Baron</p>
+<p>Author: James De Mille</p>
+<p>Release Date: July 17, 2007  [eBook #13257]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN BARON***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h5 class="pg">E-text prepared by Keith M. Eckrich, Curtis Weyant,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    and revised by Louise Hope<br />
+    using page images generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)<br />
+    <br />
+    HTML version prepared by Louise Hope</h5>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<center>
+<table border=0 bgcolor="ccccff" cellpadding=10>
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries.<br> See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americanbaron00demiiala">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/americanbaron00demiiala</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/frontis.png" width = "458" height = "545"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"AND AS THEY STOOD THE CLERGYMEN SLOWLY CAME OUT
+OF THE HOUSE"&mdash;[SEE PAGE 132.]</p>
+
+<div class = "titlepage">
+
+<h1 class = "smaller">THE</h1>
+
+<h1>AMERICAN BARON.</h1>
+
+<h1 class = "smaller"><b>A Novel.</b></h1>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>By JAMES DE MILLE,</h4>
+
+<h4 class = "smallest">AUTHOR OF</h4>
+
+<h4 class = "smaller">"THE DODGE CLUB," "THE CRYPTOGRAM," "CORD AND
+CREESE," &amp;c.</h4>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h5><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</i>.</h5>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/publogo.png" width = "106" height = "72"
+alt = "publisher's device: LAMPADIA ECHONTES DIALÔSOUSIN ALLÊLOIS">
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h5 class = "larger">NEW YORK:</h5>
+<h5>HARPER &amp; BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,</h5>
+<h5 class = "smaller">FRANKLIN SQUARE.</h5>
+<h5>1872.</h5>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<h4 class = "smallcaps">By Prof. JAMES DE MILLE.</h4>
+
+<hr class = "tiny">
+
+<p class = "hanging">
+<i>THE DODGE CLUB</i>; or, Italy in 1859. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, 75
+cents; Cloth, $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class = "hanging">
+<i>CORD AND CREESE</i>. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, 75 cents;
+Cloth, $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class = "hanging">
+<i>THE CRYPTOGRAM</i>. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, $1&nbsp;50;
+Cloth, $2&nbsp;00.</p>
+
+<p class = "hanging">
+<i>THE AMERICAN BARON</i>. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper.</p>
+
+<hr class = "tiny">
+
+<h5 class = "smallcaps">Published by HARPER &amp; BROTHERS, New
+York.</h5>
+
+<h6><img src = "images/finger20.gif" width = "17" height = "7"
+alt = "(pointing finger)">
+<i>Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on
+receipt of the price.</i></h6>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h5>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by<br>
+HARPER &amp; BROTHERS,<br>
+In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.</h5>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">7</span>
+
+<h2 class = "extended">THE AMERICAN BARON.</h2>
+
+<hr class = "mid">
+
+<p>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic007.png" width = "212" height = "332"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"PARDON, MEES."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapI" id = "chapI">
+CHAPTER I.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE AVALANCHE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Somewhat</span> less than a hundred years
+ago a party of travelers might have been seen crossing over the Simplon
+Road, <i>en route</i> for Italy. They had been detained at Brieg by
+reports that the road was impassable; and, as it was the month of March,
+the prospect of snow and storms and avalanches was sufficient to make
+them hesitate. At length the road had been reopened, and they were
+informed that the journey might be made on sleds.</p>
+
+<p>Unwilling to wait at Brieg, and equally unwilling to make a detour so
+as to take the railroad, the party decided to go on. They were informed
+that they could go on wheels as far as the line of snow, but that
+afterward their accommodations would not be so comfortable as they might
+desire. The road had been cleared for only a few feet; the snow was
+deep; the sleds were rude; and progress would be slow.
+<span class = "pagenum">7b</span>
+These statements, however, did not shake the resolution of the party;
+and the end of it was that they determined to go on, and cross the
+mountain if it were possible.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving Brieg the road began to ascend with a very slight incline,
+winding around in an intricate sort of way, sometimes crossing deep
+gullies, at other times piercing the hillside in long dark tunnels; but
+amidst all these windings ever ascending, so that every step took them
+higher and higher above the little valley where Brieg lay. The party saw
+also that every step brought them steadily nearer to the line of snow;
+and at length they found the road covered with a thin white layer. Over
+this they rolled, and though the snow became deeper with every furlong
+of their progress, yet they encountered but little actual difficulty
+until they approached the first station where the horses were to be
+changed. Here they came to a deep drift. Through this a pathway had been
+cleared, so that there was no difficulty about going through; but the
+sight of this served to show them what might be expected further on, and
+to fill them all with grave doubts as to the practicability of a journey
+which was thus interrupted so early.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the station these doubts were confirmed. They were
+informed that the road had been cleared for sleds on the preceding day,
+but that on the previous night fresh snow had fallen, and in such
+quantities that the road would have to be cleared afresh. The worst of
+it was that there was every probability of new snow-storms, which would
+cover the road still deeper, and once more obliterate the track. This
+led to a fresh debate about the journey; but they were all unwilling to
+turn back. Only a few miles separated them from Domo d'Ossola, and they
+were assured that, if no fresh snow should fall, they would be able to
+start on the following morning. This last assurance once more confirmed
+their wavering resolution, and they concluded to wait at the
+station.</p>
+
+<p>For the remainder of that day they waited at the little way-side inn,
+amusing themselves with looking out upon their surroundings. They were
+environed by a scene of universal white. Above them towered vast Alpine
+summits, where the wild wind blew, sweeping the snow-wreaths into the
+air. In front was a deep
+<span class = "pagenum">8</span>
+ravine, at the bottom of which there ran a torrent that foamed and
+tossed over rocks and boulders. It was not possible to take a walk to
+any distance. Their boots were made for lighter purposes than plunging
+through snow-drifts; and so they were forced to remain indoors, and pass
+the time as best they could.</p>
+
+<p>On the following morning they found every thing in readiness for a
+start. In front of the inn they saw five sleds of that kind which is
+universally used in the northern part of America. Each sled was of the
+rudest possible construction, and was drawn by one horse; straw was
+spread over the sled, upon which fur robes and blankets were flung. The
+party was distributed among these sleds, so that each one should have as
+light a load as possible, while one of the rude vehicles carried the
+luggage.</p>
+
+<p>Thus arranged, they all started off. And now, since they are all
+fairly under way, I propose to introduce them, individually and
+collectively, to my very good friend the reader.</p>
+
+<p>First of all I must mention the fact that the party consisted chiefly
+of ladies and their attendants.</p>
+
+<p>Of these the most prominent was a slim, tall, elderly lady, with
+large, dark, soft eyes, that spoke of a vanished youth and beauty from
+her heavily wrinkled face. She was the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, and acted
+toward the rest of the party in the multifarious capacity of chaperon,
+general, courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor.</p>
+
+<p>Next came Mrs. Willoughby, a widow of great beauty and fascination, a
+brunette, good-natured, clever, and shrewd. I might here pause, and go
+into no end of raptures on the various qualities of this lady's
+character; but, on the whole, I think I'd better not, as they will be
+sufficiently apparent before the end of this story is reached.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was Miss Minnie Fay, sister to Mrs. Willoughby, and
+utterly unlike her in every respect. Minnie was a blonde, with blue
+eyes, golden hair cut short and clustering about her little head, little
+bit of a mouth, with very red, plump lips, and very white teeth. Minnie
+was very small, and very elegant in shape, in gesture, in dress, in
+every attitude and every movement. The most striking thing about her,
+however, was the expression of her eyes and her face. There was about
+her brow the glory of perfect innocence. Her eyes had a glance of
+unfathomable melancholy, mingled with childlike trust in the particular
+person upon whom her gaze was fastened. Minnie was considered by all her
+friends as a child&mdash;was treated as a child&mdash;humored, petted,
+coaxed, indulged, and talked to as a child. Minnie, on her part,
+thought, spoke, lived, moved, and acted as a child. She fretted, she
+teased, she pouted, she cried, she did every thing as a child does; and
+thus carried up to the age of eighteen the bloom and charm of eight.</p>
+
+<p>The two sisters were nieces of the Dowager
+<span class = "pagenum">8b</span>
+Lady Dalrymple. Another niece also accompanied them, who was a cousin of
+the two sisters. This was Miss Ethel Orne, a young lady who had
+flourished through a London season, and had refused any number of
+brilliant offers. She was a brunette, with most wonderful dark eyes,
+figure of perfect grace, and an expression of grave self-poise that awed
+the butterflies of fashion, but offered an irresistible attraction to
+people of sense, intellect, intelligence, esprit, and all that sort of
+thing&mdash;like you and me, my boy.</p>
+
+<p>I am taking up too much time and anticipating somewhat, I fear, by
+these descriptions; so let us drop Miss Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>These ladies being thus all related formed a family party, and had
+made the journey thus far on the best of terms, without any other escort
+than that which was afforded by their chaperon, general, courier, guide,
+philosopher, friend, and Mentor&mdash;the Dowager Lady Dalrymple.</p>
+
+<p>The party was enlarged by the presence of four maids and a foreign
+gentleman. This last-mentioned personage was small in stature, with a
+very handsome face and very brilliant eyes. His frame, though slight,
+was sinewy and well knit, and he looked like an Italian. He had come on
+alone, and had passed the night at the station-house.</p>
+
+<p>A track about six feet wide had been cut out through the snow, and
+over this they passed. The snow was soft, and the horses sank deep, so
+that progress was slow. Nor was the journey without the excitement of
+apparent danger. At times before them and behind them there would come a
+low, rumbling sound, and they would see a mass of snow and ice rushing
+down some neighboring slope. Some of these fell on the road, and more
+than once they had to quit their sleds and wait for the drivers to get
+them over the heaps that had been formed across their path. Fortunately,
+however, none of these came near them; and Minnie Fay, who at first had
+screamed at intervals of about five minutes, gradually gained
+confidence, and at length changed her mood so completely that she
+laughed and clapped her little hands whenever she saw the rush of snow
+and ice. Thus slowly, yet in safety, they pushed onward, and at length
+reached the little village of Simplon. Here they waited an hour to warm
+themselves, lunch, and change horses. At the end of that time they set
+out afresh, and once more they were on their winding way.</p>
+
+<p>They had now the gratification of finding that they were descending
+the slope, and of knowing that this descent took them every minute
+further from the regions of snow, and nearer to the sunny plains of
+Italy. Minnie in particular gave utterance to her delight: and now,
+having lost every particle of fear, she begged to be allowed to drive in
+the foremost sled. Ethel had been in it thus far, but she willingly
+changed places with Minnie, and thus the descent was made.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">9</span>
+<p>The sleds and their occupants were now arranged in the following
+order:</p>
+
+<p>First, Minnie Fay alone with the driver.</p>
+
+<p>Second, Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>Third, the Dowager and her maid.</p>
+
+<p>Fourth, the three other maids.</p>
+
+<p>Fifth, the luggage.</p>
+
+<p>After these five sleds, containing our party, came another with the
+foreign gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>Each of these sleds had a driver to itself.</p>
+
+<p>In this order the party went, until at length they came to the Gorge
+of Gondo. This is a narrow valley, the sides of which rise up very
+abruptly, and in some places precipitously, to a great height. At the
+bottom flows a furious torrent, which boils and foams and roars as it
+forces its impetuous way onward over fallen masses of rock and trees and
+boulders, at one time gathering into still pools, at other times roaring
+into cataracts. Their road had been cut out on the side of the mountain,
+and the path had been cleared away here many feet above the buried road;
+and as they wound along the slope they could look up at the stupendous
+heights above them, and down at the abyss beneath them, whose white
+snow-covering was marked at the bottom by the black line of the roaring
+torrent. The smooth slope of snow ran down as far as the eye could reach
+at a steep angle, filling up all crevices, with here and there a
+projecting rock or a dark clump of trees to break its surface.</p>
+
+<p>The road was far beneath them. The drivers had informed them that it
+was forty feet deep at the top of the pass, and that its depth here was
+over thirty. Long poles which were inserted in the snow projected above
+its surface, and served to mark where the road ran.</p>
+
+<p>Here, then, they drove along, feeling wearied with the length of the
+way, impatient at the slowness of their progress, and eager to reach
+their journey's end. But little was said. All had talked till all were
+tired out. Even Minnie Fay, who at first had evinced great enthusiasm on
+finding herself leading the way, and had kept turning back constantly to
+address remarks to her friends, had at length subsided, and had rolled
+herself up more closely in her furs, and heaped the straw higher about
+her little feet.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, before them, and above them, and behind them, and all
+around them, there arose a deep, low, dull, rushing sound, which seemed
+as if all the snow on the slope was moving. Their ears had by this time
+become sufficiently well acquainted with the peculiar sound of the
+rushing snow-masses to know that this was the noise that heralded their
+progress, and to feel sure that this was an avalanche of no common size.
+Yes, this was an avalanche, and every one heard it; but no one could
+tell where it was moving, or whether it was near or far, or whether it
+was before or behind. They only knew that it was somewhere along the
+slope which they were traversing.</p>
+
+<p>A warning cry came from the foremost driver.
+<span class = "pagenum">9b</span>
+He looked back, and his face was as pale as death. He waved his hands
+above him, and then shouting for the others to follow, he whipped up his
+horse furiously. The animal plunged into the snow, and tossed and
+floundered and made a rush onward.</p>
+
+<p>But the other drivers held back, and, instead of following, shouted
+to the first driver to stop, and cried to the passengers to hold on. Not
+a cry of fear escaped from any one of the ladies. All did as they were
+directed, and grasped the stakes of their sleds, looking up at the slope
+with white lips, and expectation of horror in their eyes, watching for
+the avalanche.</p>
+
+<p>And down it came, a vast mass of snow and ice&mdash;down it came,
+irresistibly, tremendously, with a force that nothing could withstand.
+All eyes watched its progress in the silence of utter and helpless
+terror. It came. It struck. All the sleds in the rear escaped, but
+Minnie's sled lay in the course of the falling mass. The driver had
+madly rushed into the very midst of the danger which he sought to avoid.
+A scream from Minnie and a cry of despair from the driver burst upon the
+ears of the horrified listeners, and the sled that bore them, buried in
+the snow, went over the edge of the slope, and downward to the
+abyss.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapII" id = "chapII">
+CHAPTER II.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE PERILOUS DESCENT.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> shriek of Minnie and the
+driver's cry of despair were both stopped abruptly by the rush of snow,
+and were smothered in the heap under which they were buried. The whole
+party stood paralyzed, gazing stupidly downward where the avalanche was
+hurrying on to the abyss, bearing with it the ill-fated Minnie. The
+descent was a slope of smooth snow, which went down at an angle of
+forty-five degrees for at least a thousand feet. At that point there
+seemed to be a precipice. As their aching eyes watched the falling mass
+they saw it approach this place, and then as it came near the whole
+avalanche seemed to divide as though it had been severed by some
+projecting rock. It divided thus, and went to ruin; while in the midst
+of the ruin they saw the sled, looking like a helpless boat in the midst
+of foaming breakers. So, like such a helpless boat, it was dashed
+forward, and shot out of sight over the precipice.</p>
+
+<p>Whither had it gone? Into what abyss had it fallen? What lay beneath
+that point over which it had been thrown? Was it the fierce torrent that
+rolled there, or were there black rocks and sharp crags lying at the
+foot of the awful precipice? Such were the questions which flashed
+through every mind, and deepened the universal horror into universal
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this general dismay Ethel was the first to speak and
+to act. She started
+<span class = "pagenum">10</span>
+to her feet, and looking back, called in a loud voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Go down after her! A thousand pounds to the man who saves her!
+Quick!"</p>
+
+<p>At this the drivers came forward. None of them could understand
+English, and so had not comprehended her offer; but they saw by her
+gestures what she wanted. They, however, did not seem inclined to act.
+They pointed down, and pointed up, and shook their heads, and jabbered
+some strange, unintelligible patois.</p>
+
+<p>"Cowards!" cried Ethel, "to leave a young girl to die. I will go down
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>And then, just as she was, she stepped from the sled, and paused for
+a moment, looking down the slope as though selecting a place. Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby screamed to her to come back, and the
+drivers surrounded her with wild gesticulations. To all this she paid no
+attention whatever, and would certainly have gone down in another moment
+had not a hand been laid on her arm, and a voice close by her said, with
+a strong foreign accent,</p>
+
+<p>"Mees!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned at once.</p>
+
+<p>It was the foreign gentleman who had been driving behind the party.
+He had come up and had just reached the place. He now stood before her
+with his hat in one hand and the other hand on his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, mees," he said, with a bow. "Eet is too periloss. I sall go
+down eef you 'low me to mak ze attemp."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, monsieur," cried Ethel, "save her if you can!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not fear. Be calm. I sall go down. Nevare mine."</p>
+
+<p>The stranger now turned to the drivers, and spoke to them in their
+own language. They all obeyed at once. He was giving them explicit
+directions in a way that showed a perfect command of the situation. It
+now appeared that each sled had a coil of rope, which was evidently
+supplied from an apprehension of some such accident as this. Hastily yet
+<ins class = "correction" title = "spelling unchanged">dextrously</ins>
+the foreign gentleman took one of these coils, and then binding a
+blanket around his waist, he passed the rope around this, so that it
+would press against the blanket without cutting him. Having secured this
+tightly, he gave some further directions to the drivers, and then
+prepared to go down.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto the drivers had acted in sullen submission rather than with
+ready acquiescence. They were evidently afraid of another avalanche; and
+the frequent glances which they threw at the slope above them plainly
+showed that they expected this snow to follow the example of the other.
+In spite of themselves an expression of this fear escaped them, and came
+to the ears of the foreign gentleman. He turned at once on the brink of
+the descent, and burst into a torrent of invective against them. The
+ladies could not understand him, but they could perceive that he was
+uttering threats,
+<span class = "pagenum">10b</span>
+and that the men quailed before him. He did not waste any time, however.
+After reducing the men to a state of sulky submission, he turned once
+more and began the descent.</p>
+
+<p>As he went down the rope was held by the men, who allowed it to pass
+through their hands so as to steady his descent. The task before the
+adventurer was one of no common difficulty. The snow was soft, and at
+every step he sank in at least to his knees. Frequently he came to
+treacherous places, where he sank down above his waist, and was only
+able to scramble out with difficulty. But the rope sustained him; and as
+his progress was downward, he succeeded in moving with some rapidity
+toward his destination. The ladies on the height above sat in perfect
+silence, watching the progress of the man who was thus descending with
+his life in his hand to seek and to save their lost companion, and in
+the intensity of their anxiety forgot utterly about any danger to
+themselves, though from time to time there arose the well-known sound of
+sliding masses, not so far away but that under other circumstances of
+less anxiety it might have filled them with alarm. But now there was no
+alarm for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>And now the stranger was far down, and the coil of rope was well-nigh
+exhausted. But this had been prepared for, and the drivers fastened this
+rope to another coil, and after a time began to let out that one
+also.</p>
+
+<p>Farther and farther down the descent went on. They saw the stranger
+pursuing his way still with unfaltering resolution; and they sent after
+him all their hearts and all their prayers. At last he plunged down
+almost out of sight, but the next moment he emerged, and then, after a
+few leaps, they saw that he had gained the place where lay the ruins of
+the shattered avalanche. Over this he walked, sometimes sinking, at
+other times running and leaping, until at length he came to the
+precipice over which the sled had been flung.</p>
+
+<p>And now the suspense of the ladies became terrible. This was the
+critical moment. Already his eyes could look down upon the mystery that
+lay beneath that precipice. And what lay revealed there? Did his eyes
+encounter a spectacle of horror? Did they gaze down into the
+inaccessible depths of some hideous abyss? Did they see those jagged
+rocks, those sharp crags, those giant boulders, those roaring billows,
+which, in their imaginations, had drawn down their lost companion to
+destruction? Such conjectures were too terrible. Their breath failed
+them, and their hearts for a time almost ceased to beat as they sat
+there, overcome by such dread thoughts as these.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a cry of delight escaped Ethel. She was kneeling down beside
+Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby, with her eyes staring from her
+pallid face, when she saw the stranger turn and look up. He took off his
+hat, and waved it two or three times. Then he beckoned to the drivers.
+Then he sat down
+<span class = "pagenum">11</span>
+and prepared to let himself over the precipice. This incident inspired
+hope. It did more. It gave a moment's confidence, and the certainty that
+all was not lost. They looked at each other, and wept tears of joy. But
+soon that momentary hope vanished, and uncertainty returned. After all,
+what did the stranger's gesture mean? He might have seen her&mdash;but
+how? He might reach her, but would she be safe from harm? Could such a
+thing be hoped for? Would she not, rather, be all marred and mutilated?
+Dared they hope for any thing better? They dared not. And now they sat
+once more, as sad as before, and their short-lived gleam of hope faded
+away.</p>
+
+<p>They saw the stranger go over the precipice.</p>
+
+<p>Then he disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The rope was let out for a little distance, and then stopped. Then
+more went out. Then it stopped again.</p>
+
+<p>The rope now lay quite loose. There was no tension.</p>
+
+<p>What was the meaning of this? Was he clinging to the side of the
+precipice? Impossible. It looked rather as though he had reached some
+place where he was free to move, and had no further need of descent. And
+it seemed as though the precipice might not be so deep or so fearful as
+they had supposed.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time their eyes were greeted by the appearance of the
+stranger above the precipice. He waved his hat again. Then he made some
+gestures, and detached the rope from his person. The drivers understood
+him as if this had been preconcerted. Two of them instantly unharnessed
+the horse from one of the sleds, while the others pulled up the rope
+which the stranger had cast off. Then the latter disappeared once more
+behind the precipice. The ladies watched now in deep suspense; inclining
+to hope, yet dreading the worst. They saw the drivers fasten the rope to
+the sled, and let it down the slope. It was light, and the runners were
+wide. It did not sink much, but slid down quite rapidly. Once or twice
+it stuck, but by jerking it back it was detached, and went on as before.
+At last it reached the precipice at a point not more than a hundred feet
+from where the stranger had last appeared.</p>
+
+<p>And now as they sat there, reduced once more to the uttermost
+extremity of suspense, they saw a sight which sent a thrill of rapture
+through their aching hearts. They saw the stranger come slowly above the
+precipice, and then stop, and stoop, and look back. Then they
+saw&mdash;oh, Heavens! who was that? Was not that her red hood&mdash;and
+that figure who thus slowly emerged from behind the edge of the
+precipice which had so long concealed her&mdash;that figure! Was it
+possible? Not dead&mdash;not mangled, but living, moving, and,
+yes&mdash;wonder of wonders&mdash;scaling a precipice! Could it be! Oh
+joy! Oh bliss! Oh revulsion from despair! The ladies trembled and
+shivered,
+<span class = "pagenum">11b</span>
+and laughed and sobbed convulsively, and wept in one another's arms by
+turns.</p>
+
+<p>As far as they could see through the tears that dimmed their eyes,
+Minnie could not be much injured. She moved quite lightly over the snow,
+as the stranger led her toward the sled; only sinking once or twice, and
+then extricating herself even more readily than her companion. At last
+she reached the sled, and the stranger, taking off the blanket that he
+had worn under the rope, threw it over her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Then he signaled to the men above, and they began to pull up the
+sled. The stranger climbed up after it through the deep snow, walking
+behind it for some distance. At last he made a despairing gesture to the
+men, and sank down.</p>
+
+<p>The men looked bewildered, and stopped pulling.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger started up, and waved his hands impatiently, pointing to
+Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>The drivers began to pull once more at the sled, and the stranger
+once more sank exhausted in the snow.</p>
+
+<p>At this Ethel started up.</p>
+
+<p>"That noble soul!" she cried; "that generous heart! See! he is saving
+Minnie, and sitting down to die in the snow!"</p>
+
+<p>She sprang toward the men, and endeavored to make them do something.
+By her gestures she tried to get two of the men to pull at the sled, and
+the third man to let the fourth man down with a rope to the stranger.
+The men refused; but at the offer of her purse, which was well filled
+with gold, they consented. Two of them then pulled at the sled, and
+number four bound the rope about him, and went down, while number three
+held the rope. He went down without difficulty, and reached the
+stranger. By this time Minnie had been drawn to the top, and was clasped
+in the arms of her friends.</p>
+
+<p>But now the strength and the sense which had been so wonderfully
+maintained gave way utterly; and no sooner did she find herself safe
+than she fell down unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>They drew her to a sled, and tenderly laid her on the straw, and
+lovingly and gently they tried to restore her, and call her back to
+consciousness. But for a long time their efforts were of no avail.</p>
+
+<p>She lay there a picture of perfect loveliness, as beautiful as a
+dream&mdash;like some child-angel. Her hair, frosted with snow dust,
+clustered in golden curls over her fair white brow; her little hands
+were folded meekly over her breast; her sweet lips were parted, and
+disclosed the pearly teeth; the gentle eyes no longer looked forth with
+their piteous expression of mute appeal; and her hearing was deaf to the
+words of love and pity that were lavished upon her.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">12</span>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapIII" id = "chapIII">
+CHAPTER III.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE CHILD-ANGEL AND HER WOES.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Mrs. Willoughby</span> was in her room at
+the hotel in Milan, when the door opened, and Minnie came in. She looked
+around the room, drew a long breath, then locked the door, and flinging
+herself upon a sofa, she reclined there in silence for some time,
+looking hard at the ceiling. Mrs. Willoughby looked a little surprised
+at first; but after waiting a few moments for Minnie to say something,
+resumed her reading, which had been interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty," said Minnie at last.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said her sister, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're horrid."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, because when you see and know that I'm dying to speak to you,
+you go on reading that wretched book."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Minnie darling," said Mrs. Willoughby, "how in the world was I
+to know that you wanted to speak to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>might</i> have known," said Minnie, with a pout&mdash;"you
+saw me look all round, and lock the door; and you saw how worried I
+looked, and I think it a shame, and I've a great mind not to tell you
+any thing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"About it&mdash;what <i>it</i>?" and Mrs. Willoughby put down her
+book, and regarded her sister with some curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"I've a great mind not to tell you, but I can't help it. Besides, I'm
+dying to ask your advice. I don't know what to do; and I wish I was
+dead&mdash;there!"</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Minnie! what <i>is</i> the matter? You're <i>so</i>
+incoherent."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Kitty, it's all my accident."</p>
+
+<p>"Your accident!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; on the Alps, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"What! You haven't received any serious injury, have you?" asked Mrs.
+Willoughby, with some alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I don't mean that, but I'll tell you what I mean;" and here
+Minnie got up from her reclining position, and allowed her little feet
+to touch the carpet, while she fastened her great, fond, pleading,
+piteous eyes upon her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the Count, you know," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"The Count!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, somewhat dryly. "Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;don't you know what I mean? Oh, how stupid you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"I really can not imagine."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;he&mdash;he&mdash;he pro&mdash;proposed, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Proposed!" cried the other, in a voice of dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, if you speak in that horrid way I won't say another
+word. I'm worried too much already, and I don't want you to scold me.
+And I won't have it."</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie darling, I wish you would tell me something. I'm not
+scolding. I merely wish to know what you mean. Do you really mean that
+the Count has proposed to you?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">12b</span>
+
+<p>"Of course that's what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"What puzzles me is, how he could have got the chance. It's more than
+a week since he saved you, and we all felt deeply grateful to him. But
+saving a girl's life doesn't give a man any claim over her; and we don't
+altogether like him; and so we all have tried, in a quiet way, without
+hurting his feelings, you know, to prevent him from having any
+acquaintance with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know, I know," said Minnie, briskly. "He told me all that. He
+understands that; but he doesn't care, he says, if <i>I</i> only
+consent. He will forgive <i>you</i>, he says."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie's volubility was suddenly checked by catching her sister's eye
+fixed on her in new amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you're beginning to be horrid," she cried. "Don't,
+don't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you have the kindness to tell me," said Mrs. Willoughby, very
+quietly, "how in the world the Count contrived to tell you all
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why&mdash;several times."</p>
+
+<p>"Several times!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, once at the amphitheatre. You were walking ahead, and I sat
+down to rest, and he came and joined me. He left before you came
+back."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have been following us, then."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And another time in the picture-gallery; and yesterday in a
+shop; and this morning at the Cathedral."</p>
+
+<p>"The Cathedral!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Kitty. You know we all went, and Lady Dalrymple would not go
+up. So Ethel and I went up. And when we got up to the top I walked
+about, and Ethel sat down to admire the view. And, you know, I found
+myself off at a little distance, when suddenly I saw Count Girasole. And
+then, you know, he&mdash;he&mdash;proposed."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby sat silent for some time.</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you say to him?" she asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what else could I say?"</p>
+
+<p>"What else than <i>what</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why you should act <i>so</i> like a grand inquisitor,
+Kitty. You really make me feel quite nervous," said Minnie, who put her
+little rosy-tipped fingers to one of her eyes, and attempted a sob,
+which turned out a failure.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I only asked you what you told him, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Minnie, gravely, "I told him, you know, that I was
+awfully grateful to him, and that I'd give any thing if I could to
+express my gratitude. And then, you know&mdash;oh, he speaks such
+darling broken English&mdash;he called me his 'mees,' and tried to make
+a pretty speech, which was so mixed with Italian that I didn't
+understand one single word. By-the-way, Kitty, isn't it odd how every
+body here speaks Italian, even the children?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">13</span>
+
+<p>"Yes, very odd; but, Minnie dear, I want to know what you told
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I told him that I didn't know, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?"</p>
+
+<p>"And then he took my hand. Now, Kitty, you're unkind. I really <i>can
+not</i> tell you all this."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I only ask so as to advise you. I want to know how the case
+stands."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, he was so urgent&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"And so handsome&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"And then, you know, he saved my life&mdash;didn't he, now? You must
+acknowledge that much, mustn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"So what could I say?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie paused.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby looked troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty, I <i>wish</i> you wouldn't look at me with that dreadful
+expression. You really make me feel quite frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie," said the other, in a serious voice, "do you really
+<i>love</i> this man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Love this man! why no, not particularly; but I <i>like</i> him; that
+is, I think I do, or rather I thought I did; but really I'm so worried
+about all my troubles that I wish he had never come down after me. I
+don't see why he did, either. I didn't ask him to. I remember, now, I
+really felt quite embarrassed when I saw him. I knew there would be
+trouble about it. And I wish you would take me back home. I hate Italy.
+Do, Kitty darling. But then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie paused again.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Minnie dear, we certainly must contrive some plan to shake him
+off without hurting his feelings. It can't be thought of. There are a
+hundred objections. If the worst comes to the worst we can go back, as
+you say, to England."</p>
+
+<p>"I know; but then," said Minnie, "that's the very thing that I can't
+do&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't do what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go back to England."</p>
+
+<p>"Back to England! Why not? I don't know what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, Kitty, that's the very thing I came to see you about.
+This dreadful man&mdash;the Count, you know&mdash;has some wonderful way
+of finding out where I go; and he keeps all the time appearing and
+disappearing in the very strangest manner; and when I saw him on the
+roof of the Cathedral it really made me feel quite giddy. He is
+<i>so</i> determined to win me that I'm afraid to look round. He takes
+the commonest civility as encouragement. And then, you know&mdash;there
+it is&mdash;I really can't go back to England."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why there's&mdash;a&mdash;a dreadful person there," said Minnie,
+with an awful look in her eyes.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">13b</span>
+<p>"A what?"</p>
+
+<p>"A&mdash;person," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"A man?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie nodded. "Oh yes&mdash;of course. Really when one thinks of
+one's troubles it's enough to drive one distracted. This person is a
+man. I don't know why it is that I should be <i>so</i> worried and
+<i>so</i> distracted by men. I do <i>not</i> like them, and I wish there
+were no such persons."</p>
+
+<p>"Another man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, in some surprise. "Well, Minnie,
+you certainly&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't, don't&mdash;not a word; I know all you're going to say,
+and I won't stand it;" and Minnie ran over to her sister and held her
+hand over her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't say a word," said Mrs. Willoughby, as soon as she had
+removed Minnie's hand; "so begin."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie resumed her place on the sofa, and gave a long sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, Kitty darling, it happened at Brighton last
+September. You were in Scotland then. I was with old Lady Shrewsbury,
+who is as blind as a bat&mdash;and where's the use of having a person to
+look after you when they're blind! You see, my horse ran away, and I
+think he must have gone ever so many miles, over railroad bridges and
+hedges and stone walls. I'm certain he jumped over a small cottage.
+Well, you know, when all seemed lost, suddenly there was a strong hand
+laid on the reins, and my horse was stopped. I tumbled into some strange
+gentleman's arms, and was carried into a house, where I was
+resuscitated. I returned home in the gentleman's carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the worst of it is," said Minnie, with a piteous look, "that the
+person who stopped the horse called to inquire after me the next day.
+Lady Shrewsbury, like an old goose, was awfully civil to him; and so
+there I was! His name is Captain Kirby, and I wish there were no
+captains in the world. The life he led me! He used to call, and I had to
+go out riding with him, and old Lady Shrewsbury utterly neglected me;
+and so, you know, Kitty darling, he at last, you know, of course,
+proposed. That's what they all do, you know, when they save your life.
+Always! It's awful!"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie heaved a sigh, and sat apparently meditating on the enormous
+baseness of the man who saved a lady's life and then proposed; and it
+was not until Mrs. Willoughby had spoken twice that she was recalled to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you tell him?" was her sister's question.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what could I tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" cried Mrs. Willoughby; "you don't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, I think it's very unkind in you, when I want all your
+sympathy, to be <i>so</i> horrid."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, tell it your own way, Minnie dearest."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie sat for a time regarding vacancy with a soft, sad, and piteous
+expression in her large blue eyes; with her head also a little on one
+<span class = "pagenum">14</span>
+side, and her delicate hands gently clasped in front of her.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic014.png" width = "452" height = "340"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"ANOTHER MAN!"</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Kitty darling, he took me out riding, and&mdash;he took me
+to the place where I had met him, and then he proposed. Well, you know,
+I didn't know what to say. He was <i>so</i> earnest, and <i>so</i>
+despairing. And then, you know, Kitty dearest, he had saved my life, and
+so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I told him I didn't know, and was shockingly confused, and
+then we got up quite a scene. He swore that he would go to Mexico,
+though why I can't imagine; and I really wish he had; but I was
+frightened at the time, and I cried; and then he got worse, and I told
+him not to; whereupon he went into raptures, and began to call me no end
+of names&mdash;spooney names, you know; and I&mdash;oh, I did <i>so</i>
+want him to stop!&mdash;I think I must have promised him all that he
+wanted; and when I got home I was frightened out of my poor little wits,
+and cried all night."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, with tender sympathy.
+"What a wretch!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he wasn't a wretch at all; he was awfully handsome, only, you
+know, he&mdash;was&mdash;so&mdash;<i>aw</i>fully persevering, and kept
+<i>so</i> at my heels; but I hurried home from Brighton, and thought I
+had got rid of him."</p>
+
+<p>"And hadn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, no," said Minnie, mournfully. "On the day after my arrival
+there came a letter; and, you know, I had to answer it; and then
+another; and so it went on&mdash;"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">14b</span>
+
+<p>"Oh, Minnie! why didn't you tell me before?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could I when you were off in that horrid Scotland? I
+<i>always</i> hated Scotland."</p>
+
+<p>"You might have told papa."</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't. I think papa's cruel <i>too</i>. He doesn't care for me
+at all. Why didn't he find out our correspondence and intercept it, the
+way papas always do in novels? If I were <i>his</i> papa I'd not let
+<i>him</i> be so worried."</p>
+
+<p>"And did he never call on you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; he got leave of absence once, and I had a dreadful time with
+him. He was in a desperate state of mind. He was ordered off to
+Gibraltar. But I managed to comfort him; and, oh dear, Kitty dear, did
+you <i>ever</i> try to comfort a man, and the man a total stranger?"</p>
+
+<p>At this innocent question Mrs. Willoughby's gravity gave way a
+little.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie frowned, and then sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you needn't be so unkind," said she; and then her little hand
+tried to wipe away a tear, but failed.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he go to Gibraltar?" asked Mrs. Willoughby at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he did," said Minnie, with a little asperity.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he write?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he wrote," in the same tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how did it end?"</p>
+
+<p>"End! It didn't end at all. And it never will end. It'll go on
+getting worse and worse every day. You see he wrote, and said a lot of
+rubbish about his getting leave of absence and coming to see me. And
+then I determined to
+<span class = "pagenum">15</span>
+run away; and you know I begged you to take me to Italy, and this is the
+first time I've told you the real reason."</p>
+
+<p>"So that was the real reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Minnie, my poor child," said Mrs. Willoughby, after a pause,
+"you're safe from your officer, at any rate; and as to Count Girasole,
+we must save you from him. Don't give way."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can't save me. They'll come after me, I know. Captain Kirby,
+the moment he finds out that I am here, will come flying after me; and
+then, oh dear! the other one will come, and the American, too, of
+course."</p>
+
+<p>"The what? who?" cried Mrs. Willoughby, starting up with new
+excitement. "Who's that? What did you say, Minnie? The American? What
+American?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie threw a look of reproach at her sister, and her eyes fell.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't possibly mean that there are any more&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There&mdash;is&mdash;<i>one</i>&mdash;more," said Minnie, in a low,
+faint voice, stealing a glance at her sister, and looking a little
+frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"One more!" repeated her sister, breathless.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I didn't come here to be scolded," said Minnie, rising, "and
+I'll go. But I hoped that you'd help me; and I think you're very unkind;
+and I wouldn't treat you so."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Minnie," said Mrs. Willoughby, rising, and putting her arm
+round her sister, and drawing her back. "I had no idea of scolding. I
+never scolded any one in my life, and wouldn't speak a cross word to you
+for the world. Sit down now, Minnie darling, and tell me all. What about
+the American? I won't express any more astonishment, no matter what I
+may feel."</p>
+
+<p>"But you mustn't <i>feel</i> any astonishment," insisted Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, darling, I won't," said her sister.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie gave a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"It was last year, you know, in the spring. Papa and I were going out
+to Montreal, to bring you home. You remember?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby nodded, while a sad expression came over her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"And, you remember, the steamer was wrecked."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But I never told you how my life was saved."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, you did. Didn't papa tell all about the heroic sailor who
+swam ashore with you? how he was frantic about you, having been swept
+away by a wave from you? and how he fainted away with joy when you were
+brought to him? How can you suppose I would forget that? And then how
+papa tried to find the noble sailor to reward him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," said Minnie, in a despondent tone. "That's all very true;
+but he wasn't a noble sailor at all."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"You see, he wasn't going to have a scene with papa, and so he kept
+out of his way. Oh
+<span class = "pagenum">15b</span>
+dear, how I wish he'd been as considerate with me! But that's the way
+always; yes, always."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, who was he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he was an American gentleman, returning home from a tour in
+Europe. He saved me, as you have heard. I really don't remember much
+about it, only there was a terrible rush of water, and a strong arm
+seized me, and I thought it was papa all the time. And I found myself
+carried, I don't know how, through the waves, and then I fainted; and I
+really don't know any thing about it except papa's story."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby looked at Minnie in silence, but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"And then, you know, he traveled with us, and papa thought he was one
+of the passengers, and was civil; and so he used to talk to me, and at
+last, at Montreal, he used to call on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"At your house, dearest."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You could not leave your room, darling, so I used to go down."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Minnie!"</p>
+
+<p>"And he proposed to me there."</p>
+
+<p>"Where? in my parlor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; in your parlor, dearest."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it's not necessary for me to ask what you said."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not," said Minnie, in a sweet voice. "He was so grand and
+so strong, and he never made any allusions to the wreck; and it
+was&mdash;the&mdash;the&mdash;<i>very first</i> time that any body
+ever&mdash;proposed; and so, you know, I didn't know how to take it, and
+I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and I couldn't deny that he had
+saved my life; and I don't know when I <i>ever</i> was so confused. It's
+awful, Kitty darling.</p>
+
+<p>"And then, you know, darling," continued Minnie, "he went away, and
+used to write regularly every month. He came to see me once, and I was
+frightened to death almost. He is going to marry me next year. He used
+an awful expression, dearest. He told me he was a struggling man. Isn't
+that horrid? What is it, Kitty? Isn't it something very, very
+dreadful?"</p>
+
+<p>"He writes still, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, yes."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby was silent for some time.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Minnie," said she at last, "what a trouble all this is! How I
+wish you had been with me all this time!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what made you go and get married?" said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush," said Mrs. Willoughby, sadly, "never mind. I've made up my
+mind to one thing, and that is, I will never leave you alone with a
+gentleman, unless&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure I don't want the horrid creatures," said Minnie. "And
+you needn't be so unkind. I'm sure I don't see why people will come
+always and save my life wherever I go. I don't want them to. I don't
+want to have my life saved any more. I think it's dreadful to have men
+chasing me all over the
+<span class = "pagenum">16</span>
+world. I'm afraid to stop in Italy, and I'm afraid to go back to
+England. Then I'm always afraid of that dreadful American. I suppose
+it's no use for me to go to the Holy Land, or Egypt, or Australia; for
+then my life would be saved by an Arab, or a New Zealander. And oh,
+Kitty, wouldn't it be dreadful to have some Arab proposing to me, or a
+Hindu! Oh, what <i>am</i> I to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Trust to me, darling. I'll get rid of Girasole. We will go to
+Naples. He has to stop at Rome; I know that. We will thus pass quietly
+away from him, without giving him any pain, and he'll soon forget all
+about it. As for the others, I'll stop this correspondence first, and
+then deal with them as they come."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll never do it, never!" cried Minnie; "I know you won't. You
+don't know them."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapIV" id = "chapIV">
+CHAPTER IV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+IN THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS.</h6>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic016.png" width = "339" height = "449"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"HE BENT HIS HEAD DOWN, AND RAN HIS HAND THROUGH HIS BUSHY HAIR."</p>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Lord</span> Harry Hawbury had been
+wandering for three months on the Continent, and had
+<span class = "pagenum">16b</span>
+finally found himself in Naples. It was always a favorite place of his,
+and he had established himself in comfortable quarters on the Strada
+Nuova, from the windows of which there was a magnificent view of the
+whole bay, with Vesuvius, Capri, Baiæ, and all the regions round about.
+Here an old friend had unexpectedly turned up in the person of Scone
+Dacres. Their friendship had been formed some five or six years before
+in South America, where they had made a hazardous journey in company
+across the continent, and had thus acquired a familiarity with one
+another which years of ordinary association would have failed to give.
+Scone Dacres was several years older than Lord Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>One evening Lord Hawbury had just finished his dinner, and was
+dawdling about in a listless way, when Dacres entered, quite
+unceremoniously, and flung himself into a chair by one of the
+windows.</p>
+
+<p>"Any Bass, Hawbury?" was his only greeting, as he bent his head down,
+and ran his hand through his bushy hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Lachryma Christi?" asked Hawbury, in an interrogative tone.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks. That wine is a humbug. I'm beastly thirsty, and as dry
+as a cinder."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury ordered the Bass, and Dacres soon was refreshing himself with
+copious draughts.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends presented a singular contrast. Lord Hawbury was tall
+and slim, with straight flaxen hair and flaxen whiskers, whose long,
+pendent points hung down to his shoulders. His thin face, somewhat pale,
+had an air of high refinement; and an ineradicable habit of lounging,
+together with a drawling intonation, gave him the appearance of being
+the laziest mortal alive. Dacres, on the other hand, was the very
+opposite of all this. He was as tall as Lord Hawbury, but was
+broad-shouldered and massive. He had a big head, a big mustache, and a
+thick beard. His hair was dark, and
+<span class = "pagenum">17</span>
+covered his head in dense, bushy curls. His voice was loud, his manner
+abrupt, and he always sat bolt upright.</p>
+
+<p>"Any thing up, Sconey?" asked Lord Hawbury, after a pause, during
+which he had been languidly gazing at his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no, nothing, except that I've been up Vesuvius."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Hawbury gave a long whistle.</p>
+
+<p>"And how did you find the mountain?" he asked; "lively?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather so. In fact, infernally so," added Dacres, thoughtfully.
+"Look here, Hawbury, do you detect any smell of sulphur about me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sulphur! What in the name of&mdash;sulphur! Why, now that you
+mention it, I <i>do</i> notice something of a brimstone smell. Sulphur!
+Why, man, you're as strong as a lighted match. What have you been doing
+with yourself? Down inside, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres made no answer for some time, but sat stroking his beard with
+his left hand, while his right held a cigar which he had just taken out
+of a box at his elbow. His eyes were fixed upon a point in the sky
+exactly half-way between Capri and Baiæ, and about ten degrees above the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury," said he, solemnly, after about two minutes of portentous
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've had an adventure."</p>
+
+<p>"An adventure! Well, don't be bashful. Breathe forth the tale in this
+confiding ear."</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Dacres, "I started off this morning for a ride, and
+had no more intention of going to Vesuvius than to Jericho."</p>
+
+<p>"I should hope not. What business has a fellow like you with
+Vesuvius&mdash;a fellow that has scaled Cotopaxi, and all that sort of
+thing? Not you."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres put the cigar thoughtfully in his mouth, struck a light, and
+tried to light it, but couldn't. Then he bit the end off, which he had
+forgotten to do before. Then he gave three long, solemn, and portentous
+puffs. Then he took the cigar between his first and second fingers, and
+stretched his hand out toward Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury, my boy," said he again.</p>
+
+<p>"All right."</p>
+
+<p>"You remember the time when I got that bullet in Uruguay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I had a shot to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"A shot! The deuce you had. Cool, too. Any of those confounded
+bandits about? I thought that was all rot."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't a real shot; only figurative."</p>
+
+<p>"Figurative!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it was a&mdash;a girl."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" cried Hawbury, starting up from an easy posture which he
+had secured for himself after fifteen minutes shifting and changing. "A
+girl! You, Dacres, spooney! A fellow like you, and a girl! By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury fell back again, and appeared to be vainly trying to grapple
+with the thought.
+<span class = "pagenum">17b</span>
+Dacres put his cigar between his lips again, and gave one or two puffs
+at it, but it had gone out. He pitched it out of the window, and struck
+his hand heavily on the arm of his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Hawbury, a girl; and spooney, too&mdash;as spooney as blazes;
+but I'll swear there isn't such another girl upon the whole face of the
+earth; and when you bear in mind the fact that my observation, with
+extended view, has surveyed mankind from China to Peru, you'll be able
+to appreciate the value of my statement."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, old man; and now for the adventure."</p>
+
+<p>"The adventure? Well, you see, I started for a ride. Had a misty idea
+of going to Sorrento, and was jogging along among a million pigs or so
+at Portici, when I overtook a carriage that was going slowly along.
+There were three ladies in it. The backs of two of them were turned
+toward me, and I afterward saw that one was old&mdash;no doubt the
+chaperon&mdash;and the other was young. But the third lady,
+Hawbury&mdash;Well, it's enough to say that I, who have seen all women
+in all lands, have never seen any thing like her. She was on the front
+seat, with her face turned toward me. She was small, a perfect blonde;
+hair short and curling; a round, girlish face; dimpled cheeks, and
+little mouth. Her eyes were large and blue; and, as she looked at me, I
+saw such a bewitching innocence, such plaintive entreaty, such pathetic
+trust, such helpless, childlike&mdash;I'll be hanged if I can find words
+to express what I want to say. The English language doesn't contain
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do it in Latin, then, or else skip the whole description. All the
+same. I know the whole story by heart. Love's young dream, and all that
+sort of thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," continued Dacres, "there was something so confoundedly
+bewitching in the little girl's face that I found myself keeping on at a
+slow pace in the rear of the carriage, and feasting on her looks. Of
+course I wasn't rude about it or demonstrative."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course. No demonstration. It's nothing to ride behind a
+carriage for several hours, and 'feast' one's self on a pretty girl's
+looks! But go on, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I managed it without giving offense. You see, there was such a
+beastly lot of pigs, peasants, cows, dirty children, lazaroni, and all
+that sort of thing, that it was simply impossible to go any faster; so
+you see I was compelled to ride behind. Sometimes, indeed, I fell a good
+distance back."</p>
+
+<p>"And then caught up again to resume the 'feast?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't see what this has to do with your going to
+Vesuvius."</p>
+
+<p>"It has every thing to do. You see, I started without any fixed
+purpose, and after I saw this carriage, I kept on insensibly after
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see&mdash;yes. By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"And they drove up as far as they could."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">18</span>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I followed. You see, I had nothing else to do&mdash;and that
+little girl! Besides, it was the most natural thing in the world for me
+to be going up; and the fact that I was bent on the same errand as
+themselves was sufficient to account for my being near the carriage, and
+would prevent them from supposing that I was following them. So, you
+see, I followed, and at length they stopped at the Hermitage. I left my
+horse there, and strolled forward, without going very far away; my only
+idea was to keep the girl in sight. I had no idea that they would go any
+further. To ascend the cone seemed quite out of the question. I thought
+they would rest at the Hermitage, drink some Lachryma Christi, and go
+back. But to my surprise, as I was walking about, I saw the two young
+ladies come out and go toward the cone.</p>
+
+<p>"I kept out of the way, as you may suppose, and watched them,
+wondering what idea they had. As they passed I heard the younger
+one&mdash;the child-angel, you know, <i>my</i> girl&mdash;teasing the
+other to make the ascent of the cone, and the other seemed to be quite
+ready to agree to the proposal.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, as far as the mere ascent is concerned, of course you know
+<i>that</i> is not much. The guides were there with straps and chairs,
+and that sort of thing, all ready, so that there was no difficulty about
+that. The real difficulty was in these girls going off unattended; and I
+could only account for it by supposing that the chaperon knew nothing
+whatever about their proposal. No doubt the old lady was tired, and the
+young ones went out, as <i>she</i> supposed, for a stroll; and now, as
+<i>they</i> proposed, this stroll meant nothing less than an ascent of
+the cone. After all, there is nothing surprising in the fact that a
+couple of active and spirited girls should attempt this. From the
+Hermitage it does not seem to be at all difficult, and they had no idea
+of the actual nature of the task.</p>
+
+<p>"What made it worse, however, was the state of the mountain at this
+particular time. I don't know whether you have taken the trouble to
+raise your eyes so high as the top of Vesuvius&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury languidly shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I supposed not; but if you had taken the trouble, you would
+have noticed an ugly cloud which is generally regarded here as ominous.
+This morning, you know, there was an unusually large canopy of very
+dirty smoke overhead. I knew by the look of things that it was not a
+very pleasant place to go to. But of course they could not be supposed
+to know any thing of the kind, and their very ignorance made them
+rash.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I walked along after them, not knowing what might turn up, but
+determined to keep them in sight. Those beggars with chairs were not to
+be trusted, and the ladies had gold enough about them to tempt violence.
+What a reckless old devil of a chaperon she was, to let those young
+girls go! So I walked on, cursing all the time the conventionalities of
+civilization
+<span class = "pagenum">18b</span>
+that prevented me from giving them warning. They were rushing straight
+on into danger, and I had to keep silent.</p>
+
+<p>"On reaching the foot of the cone a lot of fellows came up to them,
+with chairs and straps, and that sort of thing. They employed some of
+them, and, mounting the chairs, they were carried up, while I walked up
+by myself at a distance from which I could observe all that was going
+on. The girls were quite merry, appeared to be enchanted with their ride
+up the cone, enjoyed the novelty of the sensation, and I heard their
+lively chatter and their loud peals of ringing laughter, and longed more
+than ever to be able to speak to them.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the little girl that I had first seen&mdash;the child-angel, you
+know&mdash;seemed, to my amazement, to be more adventurous than the
+other. By her face you would suppose her to be as timid as a dove, and
+yet on this occasion she was the one who proposed the ascent, urged on
+her companion, and answered all her objections. Of course she could not
+have really been so plucky as she seemed. For my part, I believe the
+other one had more real pluck of the two, but it was the child-angel's
+ignorance that made her so bold. She went up the cone as she would have
+gone up stairs, and looked at the smoke as she would have looked at a
+rolling cloud.</p>
+
+<p>"At length the bearers stopped, and signified to the girls that they
+could not go any further. The girls could not speak Italian, or any
+other language apparently than English, and therefore could not very
+well make out what the bearers were trying to say, but by their gestures
+they might have known that they were warning them against going any
+further. One might have supposed that no warning would have been needed,
+and that one look upward would have been enough. The top of the cone
+rose for upward of a hundred feet above them, its soil composed of lava
+blocks and ashes intermingled with sulphur. In this soil there were a
+million cracks and crevices, from which sulphurous smoke was issuing;
+and the smoke, which was but faint and thin near where they stood, grew
+denser farther up, till it intermingled with the larger volumes that
+rolled up from the crater.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, as I stood there, I suddenly heard a wild proposal from the
+child-angel.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Ethel,' she said, 'I've a great mind to go up&mdash;'"</p>
+
+<p>Here Hawbury interrupted his friend:</p>
+
+<p>"What's that? Was that her friend's name?" he asked, with some
+animation. "Ethel?&mdash;odd, too. Ethel? H'm. Ethel? Brunette, was
+she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Odd, too; infernally odd. But, pooh! what rot! Just as though there
+weren't a thousand Ethels!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's that you're saying about Ethel?" asked Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing, old man. Excuse my interrupting you. Go ahead. How did
+it end?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">19</span>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic019.png" width = "331" height = "451"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"I SAW HER TURN AND WAVE HER HAND IN TRIUMPH."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the child-angel said, 'Ethel, I've a great mind to go up.'</p>
+
+<p>"This proposal Ethel scouted in horror and consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"'You must not&mdash;you shall not!' she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing,' said the child-angel. 'I'm dying
+to take a peep into the crater. It must be awfully funny. Do come; do,
+do come, Ethel darling.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Minnie, don't,' cried the other, in great alarm. And I now
+learned that the child-angel's name was Minnie. 'Minnie,' she cried,
+clinging to the child-angel, 'you must not go. I would not have come up
+if I had thought you would be so unreasonable.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ethel,' said the other, 'you are really getting to be quite a
+scold. How ridiculous it is in you to set yourself up in this place as a
+duenna! How can I help going up? and only one peep. And I never saw a
+crater in my life, and I'm dying to know what it looks like. I know it's
+awfully funny; and it's horrid in you to be so unkind about it. And I
+really must go. Won't you come? Do, do, dear&mdash;dearest darling,
+do&mdash;do&mdash;do!'</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel was firm, however, and tried to dissuade the other, but to no
+purpose; for at length, with a laugh, the child-angel burst away, and
+skipped lightly up the slope toward the crater.</p>
+
+<p>"'Just one peep,' she said. 'Come, Ethel, I must, I really must, you
+know.'</p>
+
+<p>"She turned for an instant as she said this, and I saw the glory of
+her child-face as it was irradiated by a smile of exquisite sweetness.
+The play of feature, the light of her eyes, and the expression of
+innocence and ignorance unconscious of danger, filled me with profound
+sadness. And there was I, standing alone, seeing that sweet child
+flinging herself to ruin, and yet unable to prevent her, simply because
+I was bound hand and foot by the infernal restrictions of a miserable
+and a senseless conventionality. Dash it, I say!"</p>
+
+<p>As Dacres growled out this Hawbury elevated his eyebrows, and stroked
+his long, pendent whiskers lazily with his left hand, while
+<span class = "pagenum">19b</span>
+with his right he drummed on the table near him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," resumed Dacres, "the child-angel ran up for some distance,
+leaving Ethel behind. Ethel called after her for some time, and then
+began to follow her up. Meanwhile the guides, who had thus far stood
+apart, suddenly caught sight of the child-angel's figure, and, with a
+loud warning cry, they ran after her. They seemed to me, however, to be
+a lazy lot, for they scarce got up as far as the place where Ethel was.
+Now, you know, all this time I was doomed to inaction. But at this
+juncture I strolled carelessly along, pretending not to see any thing in
+particular; and so, taking up an easy attitude, I waited for the
+dénouement. It was a terrible position too. That child-angel! I would
+have laid down my life for her, but I had to stand idle, and see her
+rush to fling her life away. And all because I had not happened to have
+the mere formality of an introduction."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, I stood there waiting for the dénouement. Now it
+happened that, as the child-angel went up, a brisk breeze had
+<span class = "pagenum">20</span>
+started, which blew away all the smoke, so that she went along for some
+distance without any apparent inconvenience. I saw her reach the top; I
+saw her turn and wave her hand in triumph. Then I saw her rush forward
+quickly and nimbly straight toward the crater. She seemed to go down
+into it. And then the wind changed or died away, or both, for there came
+a vast cloud of rolling smoke, black, cruel, suffocating; and the
+mountain crest and the child-angel were snatched from my sight.</p>
+
+<p>"I was roused by a shriek from Ethel. I saw her rush up the slope,
+and struggle in a vain endeavor to save her friend. But before she had
+taken a dozen steps down came the rolling smoke, black, wrathful, and
+sulphurous; and I saw her crouch down and stagger back, and finally
+emerge pale as death, and gasping for breath. She saw me as I stood
+there; in fact, I had moved a little nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Sir,' she cried, 'save her! Oh, my God, she's lost!'</p>
+
+<p>"This was very informal, you know, and all that sort of thing; but
+<i>she</i> had broken the ice, and had accosted <i>me</i>; so I waived
+all ceremony, and considered the introduction sufficient. I took off my
+hat, and told her to calm herself.</p>
+
+<p>"But she only wrung her hands, and implored me to save her
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, my boy, lucky was it for me that my experience at Cotopaxi
+and Popocatepetl had been so thorough and so peculiar. My knowledge came
+into play at this time. I took my felt hat and put it over my mouth, and
+then tied it around my neck so that the felt rim came over my cheeks and
+throat. Thus I secured a plentiful supply of air, and the felt acted as
+a kind of ventilator to prevent the access to my lungs of too much of
+the sulphurous vapor. Of course such a contrivance would not be good for
+more than five minutes; but then, you know, five minutes were all that I
+wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"So up I rushed, and, as the slope was only about a hundred feet, I
+soon reached the top. Here I could see nothing whatever. The tremendous
+smoke-clouds rolled all about on every side, enveloping me in their
+dense folds, and shutting every thing from view. I heard the cry of the
+asses of guides, who were howling where I left them below, and were
+crying to me to come back&mdash;the infernal idiots! The smoke was
+impenetrable; so I got down on my hands and knees and groped about. I
+was on her track, and knew she could not be far away. I could not spend
+more than five minutes there, for my felt hat would not assist me any
+longer. About two minutes had already passed. Another minute was taken
+up in creeping about on my hands and knees. A half minute more followed.
+I was in despair. The child-angel I saw must have run in much further
+than I had supposed, and perhaps I could not find her at all. A
+sickening fear came to me that she had grown dizzy, or had slid down
+over the loose sand into the terrific abyss of the crater itself.
+<span class = "pagenum">20b</span>
+So another half minute passed; and now only one minute was left."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how you managed to be so confoundedly accurate in your
+reckoning. How was it? You didn't carry your watch in one hand, and feel
+about with the other, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; but I looked at my watch at intervals. But never mind that. Four
+minutes, as I said, were up, and only one minute remained, and that was
+not enough to take me back. I was at the last gasp already, and on the
+verge of despair, when suddenly, as I crawled on, there lay the
+child-angel full before me, within my reach.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," continued Dacres, after a pause, "there she lay, just in my
+grasp, just at my own last gasp. One second more and it must have been
+all up. She was senseless, of course. I caught her up; I rose and ran
+back as quick as I could, bearing my precious burden. She was as light
+as a feather&mdash;no weight at all. I carried her as tenderly as if she
+was a little baby. As I emerged from the smoke Ethel rushed up to me and
+set up a cry, but I told her to keep quiet and it would be all right.
+Then I directed the guides to carry her down, and I myself then carried
+down the child-angel.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I wasn't going to give her up. I had had hard work enough
+getting her. Besides, the atmosphere up there was horrible. It was
+necessary, first of all, to get her down to the foot of the cone, where
+she could have pure air, and then resuscitate her. Therefore I directed
+the guides to take down Ethel in a chair, while I carried down the
+child-angel. They had to carry her down over the lava blocks, but I went
+to a part of the cone where it was all loose sand, and went down flying.
+I was at the bottom a full half hour before the others.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I laid her upon the loose sand; and I swear to you, Hawbury,
+never in all my life have I seen such a sight. She lay there before my
+eyes a picture of loveliness beyond imagination&mdash;as beautiful as a
+dream&mdash;more like a child-angel than ever. Her hair clustered in
+golden curls over her white brow, her little hands were folded meekly
+over her breast, her lips were parted into a sweet smile, the gentle
+eyes no longer looked at me with the piteous, pleading, trustful,
+innocent expression which I had noticed in them before, and her hearing
+was deaf to the words of love and tenderness that I lavished upon
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" muttered Hawbury; "you talk like a novel. Drive on, old man.
+I'm really beginning to feel excited."</p>
+
+<p>"'The fact is," said Dacres, "I have a certain set of expressions
+about the child-angel that will come whenever I begin to describe
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"It strikes me, though, that you are getting on pretty well. You were
+speaking of 'love and tenderness.' Well?"</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic021.png" width = "453" height = "455"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"I BENT DOWN CLOSE."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she lay there senseless, you know, and I gently unclasped her
+hands and began to
+<span class = "pagenum">21</span>
+rub them. I think the motion of carrying her, and the fresh air, had
+both produced a favorable effect; for I had not rubbed her hands ten
+minutes when she gave a low sigh. Then I rubbed on, and her lips moved.
+I bent down close so as to listen, and I heard her say, in a low
+voice,</p>
+
+<p>"'Am I at home?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' said I, gently, for I thought it was best to humor her
+delirious fancy.</p>
+
+<p>"Then she spoke again:</p>
+
+<p>"'Is that you, papa dear?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, darling,' said I, in a low voice; and I kissed her in a kind
+of paternal way, so as to reassure her, and comfort her, and soothe her,
+and all that sort of thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>At this Hawbury burst into a shout of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"What the mischief are you making that beastly row about?" growled
+Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, old boy. I couldn't help it. It was at the idea of your
+doing the father so gravely."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, am I not old enough to be her father? What else could I do?
+She had such a pleading,
+<span class = "pagenum">21b</span>
+piteous way. By Jove! Besides, how did she know any thing about it? It
+wasn't as if she was in her senses. She really thought I <i>was</i> her
+father, you know. And I'm sure I almost felt as if I was, too."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, old man, don't get huffy. Drive on."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, she kept her eyes closed, and didn't say another
+word till she heard the voice of Ethel at a distance. Then she opened
+her eyes, and got up on her feet. Then there was no end of a
+row&mdash;kissing, crying, congratulating, reproaching, and all that
+sort of thing. I withdrew to a respectful distance and waited. After a
+time they both came to me, and the child-angel gave me a look that made
+me long to be a father to her again. She held out her little hand, and I
+took it and pressed it, with my heart beating awfully. I was horribly
+embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm awfully grateful to you,' she said; 'I'm sure I'd do any thing
+in the world to repay you. I'm sure I don't know what would have become
+of me if it hadn't been for you. And I hope you'll excuse me for putting
+you to so much
+<span class = "pagenum">22</span>
+trouble. And, oh!' she concluded, half to herself, 'what <i>will</i>
+Kitty say now?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty! Who's Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Never mind. Drive on, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I mumbled something or other, and then offered to go and get
+their carriage. But they would not hear of it. The child-angel said she
+could walk. This I strongly dissuaded her from doing, and Ethel insisted
+that the men should carry her. This was done, and in a short time we got
+back to the Hermitage, where the old lady was in no end of a worry. In
+the midst of the row I slipped away, and waited till the carriage drove
+off. Then I followed at a sufficient distance not to be observed, and
+saw where their house was."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic022.png" width = "210" height = "253"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+THE MEETING.</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapV" id = "chapV">
+CHAPTER V.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE BEGINNING OF BLUNDERS.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Dacres</span> paused now, and lighting a
+fresh cigar, smoked away at it in silence, with long and solemn and
+regular puffs. Hawbury watched him for some time, with a look of dreamy
+curiosity and lazy interest. Then he rose, and dawdled about the room
+for a few minutes. Then he lighted a cigar, and finally, resuming his
+seat, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres puffed on.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm beginning to think," said Hawbury, "that your first statement is
+correct. You are shot, my boy&mdash;hit hard&mdash;and all that; and now
+I should like to ask you one question."</p>
+
+<p>"Ask away."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do about it? Do you intend to pursue the
+acquaintance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Why not?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">22b</span>
+
+<p>"What do you intend to do next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Next? Why, call on her, and inquire after her health."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, have you any thing to say against that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. Only it surprises me a little."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I never thought of Scone Dacres as a marrying man, and can't
+altogether grapple with the idea."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why a fellow shouldn't marry if he wants to," said
+Dacres. "What's the matter with me that I shouldn't get married as well
+as lots of fellows?"</p>
+
+<p>"No reason in the world, my dear boy. Marry as many wives as you
+choose. My remark referred merely to my own idea of you, and not to any
+thing actually innate in your character. So don't get huffy at a
+fellow."</p>
+
+<p>Some further conversation followed, and Dacres finally took his
+departure, full of thoughts about his new acquaintance, and racking his
+brains to devise some way of securing access to her.</p>
+
+<p>On the following evening he made his appearance once more at
+Hawbury's rooms.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man, what's up? Any thing more about the child-angel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, a little. I've found out her name."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fay. Her name is Minnie Fay."</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie Fay. I never heard of the name before. Who are her
+people?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is traveling with Lady Dalrymple."</p>
+
+<p>"The Dowager, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Who are the other ladies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't exactly remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I heard all their names, but I've forgotten. I know one of them
+is the child-angel's sister, and the other is her cousin. The one I saw
+with her was probably the sister."</p>
+
+<p>"What, the one named Ethel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel&mdash;Ethel Fay. H'm," said Hawbury, in a tone of
+disappointment. "I knew it would be so. There are so many Ethels
+about."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing. I once knew a girl named Ethel, and&mdash;Well, I had a
+faint idea that it would be odd if this should be the one. But there's
+no such chance."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the name Ethel is common enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and didn't you find out any thing about her people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whose&mdash;Ethel's?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your child-angel's people."</p>
+
+<p>"No. What do I care about her people? They might be Jews or
+Patagonians for all I care."</p>
+
+<p>"Still I should think your interest in her would make you ask."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no; my interest refers to herself, not
+<span class = "pagenum">23</span>
+to her relatives. Her sister Ethel is certainly a deuced pretty girl,
+though."</p>
+
+<p>"Sconey, my boy, I'm afraid you're getting demoralized. Why, I
+remember the time when you regarded the whole female race with a lofty
+scorn and a profound indifference that was a perpetual rebuke to more
+inflammable natures. But now what a change! Here you are, with a finely
+developed eye for female beauty, actually reveling in dreams of
+child-angels and their sisters. By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," said Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, drive on, and tell all about it. You've seen her, of
+course?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you call?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; she was not at home. I went away with a snubbed and subdued
+feeling, and rode along near the Villa Reale, when suddenly I met the
+carriage with Lady Dalrymple and the child-angel. She knew me at once,
+and gave a little start. Then she looked awfully embarrassed. Then she
+turned to Lady Dalrymple; and by the time I had got up the carriage had
+stopped, and the ladies both looked at me and bowed. I went up, and they
+both held out their hands. Lady Dalrymple then made some remarks
+expressive of gratitude, while the child-angel sat and fastened her
+wonderful eyes on me, and threw at me such a pleading, touching,
+entreating, piteous, grateful, beseeching look, that I fairly
+collapsed.</p>
+
+<p>"When Lady Dalrymple stopped, she turned to her and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'And oh, aunty darling, did you <i>ever</i> hear of any thing like
+it? It was <i>so</i> brave. Wasn't it an awfully plucky thing to do,
+now? And I was really inside the crater! I'm sure <i>I</i> never could
+have done such a thing&mdash;no, not even for my <i>own papa</i>! Oh,
+how I do <i>wish</i> I could do something to show how <i>awfully</i>
+grateful I am! And, aunty darling, I do <i>wish</i> you'd tell me what
+to do.'</p>
+
+<p>"All this quite turned my head, and I couldn't say any thing; but sat
+on my saddle, devouring the little thing with my eyes, and drinking in
+the wonderful look which she threw at me. At last the carriage started,
+and the ladies, with a pleasant smile, drove on. I think I stood still
+there for about five minutes, until I was nearly run down by one of
+those beastly Neapolitan calèches loaded with twenty or thirty
+natives."</p>
+
+<p>"See here, old man, what a confoundedly good memory you have! You
+remember no end of a lot of things, and give all her speeches verbatim.
+What a capital newspaper reporter you'd make!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's only <i>her</i> words, you know. She quickens my memory,
+and makes a different man of me."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, old chap, a different man altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"So I say, by Jove! Head turned, eyes distorted, heart generally
+upset, circulation brought up to fever point, peace of mind gone,
+<span class = "pagenum">23b</span>
+and a general mania in the place of the old self-reliance and
+content."</p>
+
+<p>"Not content, old boy; I never had much of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we won't argue, will we? But as to the child-angel&mdash;what
+next? You'll call again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course."</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Strike while the iron is hot, hey? Well, old man, I'll stand by you.
+Still I wish you could find out who her people are, just to satisfy a
+legitimate curiosity."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know the Fays, but Lady Dalrymple is her aunt; and I
+know, too, that she is a niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" cried Hawbury, starting. "Who? Sir what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Gilbert Biggs."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Gilbert Biggs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Gilbert Biggs! By Jove! Are you sure you are right? Come, now.
+Isn't there some mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit of a mistake; she's a niece of Sir Gilbert. I remember
+that, because the name is a familiar one."</p>
+
+<p>"Familiar!" repeated Hawbury; "I should think so. By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury here relapsed into silence, and sat with a frown on his face,
+and a puzzled expression. At times he would mutter such words as,
+"Deuced odd!" "Confounded queer!" "What a lot!" "By Jove!" while Dacres
+looked at him in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, old fellow!" said he at last. "Will you have the kindness
+to inform me what there is in the little fact I just mentioned to upset
+a man of your size, age, fighting weight, and general coolness of
+blood?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there is a deuced odd coincidence about it, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Coincidence with what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll tell some other time. It's a sore subject, old fellow.
+Another time, my boy. I'll only mention now that it's the cause of my
+present absence from England. There's a bother that I don't care to
+encounter, and Sir Gilbert Biggs's nieces are at the bottom of it."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean this one, I hope?" cried Dacres, in some alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven forbid! By Jove! No. I hope not."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I hope not, by Jove!" echoed the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man," said Hawbury, after a fit of silence, "I suppose
+you'll push matters on now, hard and fast, and launch yourself into
+matrimony?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I&mdash;suppose&mdash;so," said Dacres, hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>suppose</i> so. Of course you will. Don't I know you, old
+chap? Impetuous, tenacious of purpose, iron will, one idea, and all that
+sort of thing. Of course you will; and you'll be married in a
+month."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Dacres, in the same hesitating way, "not so soon as
+that, I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">24</span>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I have to get the lady first."</p>
+
+<p>"The lady; oh, she seems to be willing enough, judging from your
+description. Her pleading look at you. Why, man, there was love at first
+sight. Then tumbling down the crater of a volcano, and getting fished
+out. Why, man, what woman could resist a claim like that, especially
+when it is enforced by a man like Scone Dacres? And, by Jove! Sconey,
+allow me to inform you that I've always considered you a most infernally
+handsome man; and what's more, my opinion is worth something, by
+Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Hereupon Hawbury stretched his head and shoulders back, and pulled
+away with each hand at his long yellow pendent whiskers. Then he yawned.
+And then he slowly ejaculated,</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Dacres, thoughtfully, "there is something in what you
+say; and, to tell the truth, I think there's not a bad chance for me, so
+far as the lady herself is concerned; but the difficulty is not in that
+quarter."</p>
+
+<p>"Not in that quarter! Why, where the mischief else could there be any
+difficulty, man?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"You're eager enough?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres nodded his head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Eager! why, eager isn't the word. You're mad, man&mdash;mad as a
+March hare! So go in and win."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"You're rich, not over old, handsome, well born, well bred, and have
+saved the lady's life by extricating her from the crater of a volcano.
+She seems too young and childlike to have had any other affairs. She's
+probably just out of school; not been into society; not come out; just
+the girl. Confound these girls, I say, that have gone through
+engagements with other fellows!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, as to that," said Dacres, "this little thing is just like a
+child, and in her very simplicity does not know what love is.
+Engagement! By Jove, I don't believe she knows the meaning of the word!
+She's perfectly fresh, artless, simple, and guileless. I don't believe
+she ever heard a word of sentiment or tenderness from any man in her
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely; so where's the difficulty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to tell the truth, the difficulty is in my own affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"Your affairs! Odd, too. What's up? I didn't know any thing had
+happened. That's too infernal bad, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's nothing of that sort; money's all right; no swindle. It's
+an affair of another character altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"And one, too, that makes me think that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"That what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I'd better start for Australia."</p>
+
+<p>"Australia!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">24b</span>
+
+<p>"What's the meaning of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said Dacres, gloomily, "it means giving up the child-angel,
+and trying to forget her&mdash;if I ever can."</p>
+
+<p>"Forget her! What's the meaning of all this? Why, man, five minutes
+ago you were all on fire about her, and now you talk quietly about
+giving her up! I'm all adrift."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a mixed up matter."</p>
+
+<p>"What is?"</p>
+
+<p>"My affair."</p>
+
+<p>"Your affair; something that has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It's a sore matter, and I don't care to speak about it just
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"And it's the real cause why I don't go back to England."</p>
+
+<p>"The mischief it is! Why, Dacres, I'll be hanged if you're not using
+the very words I myself used a few minutes ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I?" said Dacres, gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly are; and that makes me think that our affairs are in a
+similar complication."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no; mine is very peculiar."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's one thing I should like to ask, and you needn't answer
+unless you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't your difficulty arise from some confounded woman or
+other?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, I knew it! And, old fellow, I'm in the same situation."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh ho! So you're driven away from England by a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres sighed heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yours can't be as bad as mine," said he, with a dismal look. "Mine
+is the worst scrape that ever you heard of. And look at me now, with the
+child-angel all ready to take me, and me not able to be taken. Confound
+the abominable complications of an accursed civilization, I say!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I say, Amen!" said Hawbury.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<div class = "null">
+<span class = "pagenum">25</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic024.png" width = "211" height = "200"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"BY JOVE, I KNEW IT!"</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapVI" id = "chapVI">
+CHAPTER VI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE FIERY TRIAL.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">"See</span> here, old chap," said Hawbury,
+"I'm going to make a clean breast of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of my affair."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Dacres, dolefully. "I should like of all things
+to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"You see I wouldn't tell you, only you yourself turn out to be in a
+similar situation, and so what I have to say may prove of use to you. At
+any rate, you may give me some useful suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then," continued Hawbury&mdash;"to begin. You may
+remember that I told you when we met here where I had been passing the
+time since I saw you last."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, about two years ago I was in Canada. I went there for sport,
+and plunged at once into the wilderness. And let me tell you it's a very
+pretty country for hunting. Lots of game&mdash;fish, flesh, and
+fowl&mdash;from the <ins class = "correction" title = "spelling unchanged">cariboo</ins> down to the smallest trout that you would care
+to hook. Glorious country; magnificent forests waiting for the
+lumberman; air that acts on you like wine, or even better; rivers and
+lakes in all directions; no end of sport and all that sort of thing, you
+know. Have you ever been in Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only traveled through."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the next time you feel inclined for high art sport we'll go
+together, and have no end of fun&mdash;that is, if you're not married
+and done for, which, of course, you will be. No matter. I was saying
+that I was in a fine country. I spent a couple of months there with two
+or three Indians, and at length started for Ottawa on my way home. The
+Indians put me on the right path, after which I dismissed them, and set
+out alone with my gun and fishing-rod.</p>
+
+<p>"The first day was all very well, and I slept well enough the first
+night; but on the morning of the second day I found the air full of
+smoke. However, I did not give much thought to that, for there had been
+a smoky look about the sky for a week, and the woods are always burning
+there, I believe, in one place or another. I kept on, and shot enough
+for food, and thus the second day passed. That evening the air was quite
+suffocating, and it was as hot as an oven. I struggled through the
+night, I don't know how; and then on the third day made another start.
+This third day was abominable. The atmosphere was beastly hot; the sky
+was a dull yellow, and the birds seemed to have all disappeared. As I
+went on it grew worse, but I found it was not because the fires were in
+front of me. On the contrary, they were behind me, and were driving on
+so that they were gradually approaching nearer. I could do my thirty
+miles a day even in that rough country, but the fires could do more. At
+last I came into a track that was a little wider than the first one. As
+I went on I met cattle
+<span class = "pagenum">25b</span>
+which appeared stupefied. Showers of dust were in the air; the
+atmosphere was worse than ever, and I never had such difficulty in my
+life in walking along. I had to throw away my rifle and fishing-rod, and
+was just thinking of pitching my clothes after them, when suddenly I
+turned a bend in the path, and met a young girl full in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! I swear I never was so astounded in my life. I hurried up
+to her, and just began to ask where I was, when she interrupted me with
+a question of the same kind. By-the-way, I forgot to say that she was on
+horseback. The poor devil of a horse seemed to have had a deuced hard
+time of it too, for he was trembling from head to foot, though whether
+that arose from fatigue or fright I don't know. Perhaps it was both.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the girl was evidently very much alarmed. She was awfully
+pale; she was a monstrous pretty girl too&mdash;the prettiest by all
+odds I ever saw, and that's saying a good deal. By Jove! Well, it turned
+out that she had been stopping in the back country for a month, at a
+house somewhere up the river, with her father. Her father had gone down
+to Ottawa a week before, and was expected back on this day. She had come
+out to meet him, and had lost her way. She had been out for hours, and
+was completely bewildered. She was also frightened at the fires, which
+now seemed to be all around us. This she told me in a few words, and
+asked if I knew where the river was.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I knew no more than she did, and it needed only a few
+words from me to show her that I was as much in the dark as she was. I
+began to question her, however, as to this river, for it struck me that
+in the present state of affairs a river would not be a bad thing to have
+near one. In answer to my question she said that she had come upon this
+road from the woods on the left, and therefore it was evident that the
+river lay in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>"I assured her that I would do whatever lay in my power; and with
+that I walked on in the direction in which I had been going, while she
+rode by my side. Some further questions as to the situation of the house
+where she had been staying showed me that it was on the banks of the
+river about fifty miles above Ottawa. By my own calculations I was about
+that distance away. It seemed to me, then, that she had got lost in the
+woods, and had wandered thus over some trail to the path where she had
+met me. Every thing served to show me that the river lay to the left,
+and so I resolved to turn in at the first path which I reached.</p>
+
+<p>"At length, after about two miles, we came to a path which went into
+the woods. My companion was sure that this was the very one by which she
+had come out, and this confirmed the impression which the sight of it
+had given me. I thought it certainly must lead toward the river. So we
+turned into this path. I went first, and she followed, and so we went
+for about a couple of miles further.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">26</span>
+
+<p>"All this time the heat had been getting worse and worse. The air was
+more smoky than ever; my mouth was parched and dry. I breathed with
+difficulty, and could scarcely drag one leg after another. The lady was
+almost as much exhausted as I was, and suffered acutely, as I could
+easily see, though she uttered not a word of complaint. Her horse also
+suffered terribly, and did not seem able to bear her weight much longer.
+The poor brute trembled and staggered, and once or twice stopped, so
+that it was difficult to start him again. The road had gone in a winding
+way, but was not so crooked as I expected. I afterward found that she
+had gone by other paths until she had found herself in thick woods, and
+then on trying to retrace her way she had strayed into this path. If she
+had turned to the left on first reaching it, instead of to the right,
+the fate of each of us would have been different. Our meeting was no
+doubt the salvation of both.</p>
+
+<p>"There was a wooded eminence in front, which we had been steadily
+approaching for some time. At last we reached the top, and here a scene
+burst upon us which was rather startling. The hill was high enough to
+command an extensive view, and the first thing that we saw was a vast
+extent of woods and water and smoke. By-and-by we were able to
+distinguish each. The water was the river, which could be seen for
+miles. Up the river toward the left the smoke arose in great volumes,
+covering every thing; while in front of us, and immediately between us
+and the river, there was a line of smoke which showed that the fires had
+penetrated there and had intercepted us.</p>
+
+<p>"We stood still in bewilderment. I looked all around. To go back was
+as bad as to go forward, for there, also, a line of smoke arose which
+showed the progress of the flames. To the right there was less smoke;
+but in that direction there was only a wilderness, through which we
+could not hope to pass for any distance. The only hope was the river. If
+we could traverse the flames in that direction, so as to reach the
+water, we would be safe. In a few words I communicated my decision to my
+companion. She said nothing, but bowed her head in acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>"Without delaying any longer we resumed our walk. After about a mile
+we found ourselves compelled once more to halt. The view here was worse
+than ever. The path was now as wide as an ordinary road, and grew wider
+still as it went on. It was evidently used to haul logs down to the
+river, and as it approached the bank it grew steadily wider; but between
+us and the river the woods were all burning. The first rush of the fire
+was over, and now we looked forward and saw a vast array of
+columns&mdash;the trunks of burned trees&mdash;some blackened and
+charred, others glowing red. The ground below was also glowing red, with
+blackened spaces here and there.</p>
+
+<p>"Still the burned tract was but a strip, and there lay our hope. The
+fire, by some strange
+<span class = "pagenum">26b</span>
+means, had passed on a track not wider than a hundred yards, and this
+was what had to be traversed by us. The question was, whether we could
+pass through that or not. The same question came to both of us, and
+neither of us said a word. But before I could ask the lady about it, her
+horse became frightened at the flames. I advised her to dismount, for I
+knew that the poor brute could never be forced through those fires. She
+did so, and the horse, with a horrible snort, turned and galloped wildly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"I now looked around once more, and saw that there was no escape
+except in front. The flames were encircling us, and a vast cloud of
+smoke surrounded us every where, rising far up and rolling overhead.
+Cinders fell in immense showers, and the fine ashes, with which the air
+was filled, choked us and got into our eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'There is only one chance,' said I; 'and that is to make a dash for
+the river. Can you do it?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll try,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>"'We'll have to go through the fires.'</p>
+
+<p>"She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, then,' I said, 'do as I say. Take off your sacque and wrap it
+around your head and shoulders.'</p>
+
+<p>"She took off her sacque at this. It was a loose robe of merino or
+alpaca, or something of that sort, and very well suited for what I
+wanted. I wrapped it round her so as to protect her face, head, and
+shoulders; and taking off my coat I did the same.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now,' said I, 'hold your breath as well as you can. You may keep
+your eyes shut. Give me your hand&mdash;I'll lead you.'</p>
+
+<p>"Taking her hand I led her forward at a rapid pace. Once she fell,
+but she quickly recovered herself, and soon we reached the edge of the
+flames.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what it is, my boy, the heat was terrific, and the sight
+was more so. The river was not more than a hundred yards away, but
+between us and it there lay what seemed as bad as the burning fiery
+furnace of Messrs. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. If I were now
+standing there, I don't think I could face it. But then I was with the
+girl; I had to save her. Fire was behind us, racing after us; water lay
+in front. Once there and we were safe. It was not a time to dawdle or
+hesitate, I can assure you.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now,' said I, 'run for your life!'</p>
+
+<p>"Grasping her hand more firmly, I started off with her at the full
+run. The place was terrible, and grew worse at every step. The road here
+was about fifty feet wide. On each side was the burning forest, with a
+row of burned trees like fiery columns, and the moss and underbrush
+still glowing beneath. To pass through that was a thing that it don't do
+to look back upon. The air was intolerable. I wrapped my coat tighter
+over my head; my arms were thus exposed, and I felt the heat on my
+hands. But that was nothing to the torments
+<span class = "pagenum">27</span>
+that I endured from trying to breathe. Besides this, the enormous effort
+of keeping up a run made breathing all the more difficult. A feeling of
+despair came over me. Already we had gone half the distance, but at that
+moment the space seemed lengthened out interminably, and I looked in
+horror at the rest of the way, with a feeling of the utter impossibility
+of traversing it.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic027.png" width = "447" height = "213"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+THE FIERY TRIAL.</p>
+
+<p>"Suddenly the lady fell headlong. I stopped and raised her up. My
+coat fell off; I felt the fiery air all round my face and head. I called
+and screamed to the lady as I tried to raise her up; but she said
+nothing. She was as lifeless as a stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my boy, I thought it was all up with me; but I, at least,
+could stand, though I did not think that I could take another breath. As
+for the lady, there was no help for it; so I grasped her with all my
+strength, still keeping her head covered as well as I could, and slung
+her over my shoulders. Then away I ran. I don't remember much after
+that. I must have lost my senses then, and, what is more, I must have
+accomplished the rest of the journey in that semi-unconscious state.</p>
+
+<p>"What I do remember is this&mdash;a wild plunge into the water; and
+the delicious coolness that I felt all around restored me, and I at once
+comprehended all. The lady was by my side; the shock and the cool water
+had restored her also. She was standing up to her shoulders just where
+she had fallen, and was panting and sobbing. I spoke a few words of good
+cheer, and then looked around for some place of refuge. Just where we
+stood there was nothing but fire and desolation, and it was necessary to
+go further away. Well, some distance out, about half-way across the
+river, I saw a little island, with rocky sides, and trees on the top. It
+looked safe and cool and inviting. I determined to try to get there.
+Some deals were in the water by the bank, which had probably floated
+down from some saw-mill. I took half a dozen of these, flung two or
+three more on top of them, and then told the lady my plan. It was to
+float out to the
+<span class = "pagenum">27b</span>
+island by means of this raft. I offered to put her on it and let her
+float; but she refused, preferring to be in the water.</p>
+
+<p>"The river was pretty wide here, and the water was shallow, so that
+we were able to wade for a long distance, pushing the raft before us. At
+length it became deep, and then the lady held on while I floated and
+tried to direct the raft toward the island. I had managed while wading
+to guide the raft up the stream, so that when we got into deep water the
+current carried us toward the island. At length we reached it without
+much difficulty, and then, utterly worn out, I fell down on the grass,
+and either fainted away or fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>"When I revived I had several very queer sensations. The first thing
+that I noticed was that I hadn't any whiskers."</p>
+
+<p>"What! no whiskers?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;all gone; and my eyebrows and mustache, and every wisp of
+hair from my head."</p>
+
+<p>"See here, old fellow, do you mean to say that you've only taken one
+year to grow those infernally long whiskers that you have now?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a fact, my boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't have believed it; but some fellows can do such
+extraordinary things. But drive on."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the next thing I noticed was that it was as smoky as ever.
+Then I jumped up and looked around. I felt quite dry, though it seemed
+as if I had just come from the river. As I jumped up and turned I saw my
+friend. She looked much better than she had. Her clothes also were quite
+dry. She greeted me with a mournful smile, and rose up from the trunk of
+a tree where she had been sitting, and made inquiries after my health
+with the most earnest and tender sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"I told her I was all right, laughed about my hair, and inquired very
+anxiously how she was. She assured me that she was as well as ever. Some
+conversation followed; and then, to my amazement, I found that I had
+slept for an immense time, or had been unconscious, whichever it was,
+and that the adventure had
+<span class = "pagenum">28</span>
+taken place on the preceding day. It was now about the middle of the
+next day. You may imagine how confounded I was at that.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic028.png" width = "452" height = "456"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"ALL GONE; MY EYEBROWS, AND MUSTACHE, AND EVERY WISP OF HAIR FROM MY
+HEAD."</p>
+
+<p>"The air was still abominably close and smoky; so I looked about the
+island, and found a huge crevice in the rocks, which was almost a cave.
+It was close by the water, and was far cooler than outside. In fact, it
+was rather comfortable than otherwise. Here we took refuge, and talked
+over our situation. As far as we could see, the whole country was burned
+up. A vast cloud of smoke hung over all. One comfort was that the glow
+had ceased on the river-bank, and only a blackened forest now remained,
+with giant trees arising, all blasted. We found that our stay would be a
+protracted one.</p>
+
+<p>"The first thing that I thought of was food. Fortunately I had my
+hooks and lines; so I cut a pole, and fastening my line to it, I
+succeeded in catching a few fish.</p>
+
+<p>"We lived there for two days on fish in that manner. The lady was sad
+and anxious. I tried to cheer her up. Her chief trouble was the fear
+that her father was lost. In the course
+<span class = "pagenum">28b</span>
+of our conversations I found out that her name was Ethel Orne."</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel Orne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think I ever heard the name before. Orne? No, I'm sure I
+haven't. It isn't Horn?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; Orne&mdash;O R N E. Oh, there's no trouble about that.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I rather enjoyed this island life, but she was awfully
+melancholy; so I hit upon a plan for getting away. I went to the shore
+and collected a lot of the deals that I mentioned, and made a very
+decent sort of raft. I found a pole to guide it with, cut a lot of brush
+for Ethel, and then we started, and floated down the river. We didn't
+have any accidents. The only bother was that she was too confoundedly
+anxious about me, and wouldn't let me work. We went ashore every
+evening. We caught fish enough to eat. We were afloat three days, and,
+naturally enough, became very well acquainted."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury stopped, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what it is, Dacres," said he,
+<span class = "pagenum">29</span>
+"there never lived a nobler, more generous, and at the same time a
+braver soul than Ethel Orne. She never said a word about gratitude and
+all that, but there was a certain quiet look of devotion about her that
+gives me a deuced queer feeling now when I think of it all."</p>
+
+<p>"And I dare say&mdash;But no matter."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I was only going to remark that, under the circumstances,
+there might have been a good deal of quiet devotion about you."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury made no reply, but sat silent for a time.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on, man; don't keep me in suspense."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see&mdash;where was I? Oh! floating on the raft. Well, we
+floated that way, as I said, for three days, and at the end of that time
+we reached a settlement. Here we found a steamer, and went on further,
+and finally reached Ottawa. Here she went to the house of a friend. I
+called on her as soon as possible, and found her in fearful anxiety. She
+had learned that her father had gone up with a Mr. Willoughby, and
+neither had been heard from.</p>
+
+<p>"Startled at this intelligence, I instituted a search myself. I could
+not find out any thing, but only that there was good reason to believe
+that both of the unhappy gentlemen had perished. On returning to the
+house to call on Ethel, about a week after, I found that she had
+received full confirmation of this dreadful intelligence, and had gone
+to Montreal. It seems that Willoughby's wife was a relative of Ethel's,
+and she had gone to stay with her. I longed to see her, but of course I
+could not intrude upon her in her grief; and so I wrote to her,
+expressing all the condolence I could. I told her that I was going to
+Europe, but would return in the following year. I couldn't say any more
+than that, you know. It wasn't a time for sentiment, of course.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I received a short note in reply. She said she would look
+forward to seeing me again with pleasure, and all that; and that she
+could never forget the days we had spent together.</p>
+
+<p>"So off I went, and in the following year I returned. But on reaching
+Montreal, what was my disgust, on calling at Mrs. Willoughby's, to find
+that she had given up her house, sold her furniture, and left the city.
+No one knew any thing about her, and they said that she had only come to
+the city a few months before her bereavement, and after that had never
+made any acquaintances. Some said she had gone to the United States;
+others thought she had gone to Quebec; others to England; but no one
+knew any thing more."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapVII" id = "chapVII">
+CHAPTER VII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+A STARTLING REVELATION.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">"It</span> seems to me, Hawbury," said
+Dacres, after a period of thoughtful silence&mdash;"it seems to me that
+when you talk of people having their
+<span class = "pagenum">29b</span>
+heads turned, you yourself comprehend the full meaning of that
+sensation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somewhat."</p>
+
+<p>"You knocked under at once, of course, to your Ethel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And feel the same way toward her yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Hit hard?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and that's what I'm coming to. The fact is, my whole business
+in life for the last year has been to find her out."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't dawdled so much, then, as people suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; that's all very well to throw people off a fellow's scent; but
+you know me well enough, Dacres; and we didn't dawdle much in South
+America, did we?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's true, my boy; but as to this lady, what is it that makes it
+so hard for you to find her? In the first place, is she an
+American?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, accent, manner, tone, idiom, and a hundred other things. Why, of
+course, you know as well as I that an American lady is as different from
+an English as a French or a German lady is. They may be all equally
+ladies, but each nation has its own peculiarities."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she Canadian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly. It is not always easy to tell a Canadian lady from an
+English. They imitate us out there a good deal. I could tell in the
+majority of cases, but there are many who can not be distinguished from
+us very easily. And Ethel may be one."</p>
+
+<p>"Why mayn't she be English?"</p>
+
+<p>"She may be. It's impossible to perceive any difference."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever made any inquiries about her in England?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I've not been in England much, and from the way she talked to me
+I concluded that her home was in Canada."</p>
+
+<p>"Was her father an Englishman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You see he had but recently moved to Montreal, like Willoughby;
+and I could not find any people who were acquainted with him."</p>
+
+<p>"He may have been English all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And she too."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"And she may be in England now."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury started to his feet, and stared in silence at his friend for
+several minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" he cried; "if I thought that, I swear I'd start for home
+this evening, and hunt about every where for the representatives of the
+Orne family. But no&mdash;surely it can't be possible."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you in London last season?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how do you know but that she was there?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">30</span>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"And the belle of the season, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"She would be if she were there, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if there wasn't another present that I wot of."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we won't argue about that; besides, I haven't come to the
+point yet."</p>
+
+<p>"The point?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the real reason why I'm here, when I'm wanted home."</p>
+
+<p>"The real reason? Why, haven't you been telling it to me all
+along?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no; I haven't got to the point yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Drive on, then, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know," continued Hawbury, "after hunting all through
+Canada I gave up in despair, and concluded that Ethel was lost to me, at
+least for the present. That was only about six or seven months ago. So I
+went home, and spent a month in a shooting-box on the Highlands; then I
+went to Ireland to visit a friend; and then to London. While there I got
+a long letter from my mother. The good soul was convinced that I was
+wasting my life; she urged me to settle down, and finally informed me
+that she had selected a wife for me. Now I want you to understand, old
+boy, that I fully appreciated my mother's motives. She was quite right,
+I dare say, about my wasting my life; quite right, too, about the
+benefit of settling down; and she was also very kind to take all the
+trouble of selecting a wife off my hands. Under other circumstances I
+dare say I should have thought the matter over, and perhaps I should
+have been induced even to go so far as to survey the lady from a
+distance, and argue the point with my mother pro and con. But the fact
+is, the thing was distasteful, and wouldn't bear thinking about, much
+less arguing. I was too lazy to go and explain the matter, and writing
+was not my forte. Besides, I didn't want to thwart my mother in her
+plans, or hurt her feelings; and so the long and the short of it is, I
+solved the difficulty and cut the knot by crossing quietly over to
+Norway. I wrote a short note to my mother, making no allusion to her
+project, and since then I've been gradually working my way down to the
+bottom of the map of Europe, and here I am."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't see the lady, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Who was she?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know the lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Odd, too! Haven't you any idea? Surely her name was mentioned?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; my mother wrote in a roundabout style, so as to feel her way.
+She knew me, and feared that I might take a prejudice against the lady.
+No doubt I should have done so. She only alluded to her in a general
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"A general way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; that is, you know, she mentioned the fact that the lady was a
+niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">30b</span>
+
+<p>"What!" cried Dacres, with a start.</p>
+
+<p>"A niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs," repeated Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>"A niece&mdash;of&mdash;Sir Gilbert Biggs?" said Dacres, slowly.
+"Good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and what of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much. Don't you know that Minnie Fay is a niece of Sir Gilbert
+Biggs?"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! So she is. I remember being startled when you told me that,
+and for a moment an odd fancy came to me. I wondered whether your
+child-angel might not be the identical being about whom my poor dear
+mother went into such raptures. Good Lord! what a joke! By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"A joke!" growled Dacres. "I don't see any joke in it. I remember
+when you said that Biggs's nieces were at the bottom of your troubles, I
+asked whether it might be this one."</p>
+
+<p>"So you did, old chap; and I replied that I hoped not. So you need
+not shake your gory locks at me, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't like the looks of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither do I."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but you see it looks as though she had been already set apart
+for you especially."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, old man, what difference can that make, when I don't set
+myself apart for any thing of the kind?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres sat in silence with a gloomy frown over his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, are you aware, my boy, of the solemn fact that Biggs's
+nieces are legion?" said Hawbury. "The man himself is an infernal old
+bloke; and as to his nieces&mdash;heavens and earth!&mdash;old! old as
+Methuselah; and as to this one, she must be a grandniece&mdash;a second
+generation. She's not a true, full-blooded niece. Now the lady I refer
+to was one of the original Biggs's nieces. There's no mistake whatever
+about that, for I have it in black and white, under my mother's own
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she would select the best of them for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she wouldn't. How do you know that?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no doubt about that."</p>
+
+<p>"It depends upon what you mean by the best. The one <i>you</i> call
+the best might not seem so to <i>her</i>, and so on. Now I dare say
+she's picked out for me a great, raw-boned, redheaded niece, with a nose
+like a horse. And she expects me to marry a woman like that! with a pace
+like a horse! Good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>And Hawbury leaned back, lost in the immensity of that one
+overwhelming idea.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," said he, standing up, "I don't care if she was the angel
+Gabriel. I don't want any of Biggs's nieces. I won't have them. By Jove!
+And am I to be entrapped into a plan like that? I want Ethel. And what's
+more, I will have her, or go without. The child-angel may be the very
+identical one that my mother selected, and if you assert that she is,
+I'll be hanged if I'll argue the point. I only say this, that it doesn't
+alter my position in the slightest degree. I don't want her. I won't
+<span class = "pagenum">31</span>
+have her. I don't want to see her. I don't care if the whole of Biggs's
+nieces, in solemn conclave, with old Biggs at their head, had formally
+discussed the whole matter, and finally resolved unanimously that she
+should be mine. Good Lord, man! don't you understand how it is? What the
+mischief do I care about any body? Do you think I went through that
+fiery furnace for nothing? And what do you suppose that life on the
+island meant? Is all that nothing? Did you ever live on an island with
+the child-angel? Did you ever make a raft for her and fly? Did you ever
+float down a river current between banks burned black by raging fires,
+feeding her, soothing her, comforting her, and all the while feeling in
+a general fever about her? You hauled her out of a crater, did you? By
+Jove! And what of that? Why, that furnace that I pulled Ethel out of was
+worse than a hundred of your craters. And yet, after all that, you think
+that I could be swayed by the miserable schemes of a lot of Biggs's
+nieces! And you scowl at a fellow, and get huffy and jealous. By
+Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>After this speech, which was delivered with unusual animation,
+Hawbury lighted a cigar, which he puffed at most energetically.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, old boy," said Dacres. "A fellow's apt to judge others by
+himself, you know. Don't make any more set speeches, though. I begin to
+understand your position. Besides, after all&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres paused, and the dark frown that was on his brow grew still
+darker.</p>
+
+<p>"After all what?" asked Hawbury, who now began to perceive that
+another feeling besides jealousy was the cause of his friend's gloomy
+melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, after all, you know, old fellow, I fear I'll have to give her
+up."</p>
+
+<p>"Give her up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what you said before, and you mentioned Australia, and that
+rot."</p>
+
+<p>"The more I think of it," said Dacres, dismally, and regarding the
+opposite wall with a steady yet mournful stare&mdash;"the more I think
+of it, the more I see that there's no such happiness in store for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh, man! what is it all about? This is the secret that you spoke
+about, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and it's enough to put a barrier between me and her. Was I
+jealous? Did I seem huffy? What an idiot I must have been! Why, old man,
+I can't do any thing or say any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"The man's mad," said Hawbury, addressing himself to a carved
+tobacco-box on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Mad? Yes, I was mad enough in ever letting myself be overpowered by
+this bright dream. Here have I been giving myself up to a
+phantom&mdash;an empty illusion&mdash;and now it's all over. My eyes are
+open."</p>
+
+<p>"You may as well open my eyes too; for I'll be hanged if I can see my
+way through this!"</p>
+
+<p>"Strange! strange! strange!" continued Dacres,
+<span class = "pagenum">31b</span>
+in a kind of soliloquy, not noticing Hawbury's words. "How a man will
+sometimes forget realities, and give himself up to dreams! It was my
+dream of the child-angel that so turned my brain. I must see her no
+more."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, old boy," said Hawbury. "Now speak Chinese a little for
+variety. I'll understand you quite as well. I will, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"And then, for a fellow that's had an experience like
+mine&mdash;before and since," continued Dacres, still speaking in the
+tone of one who was meditating aloud&mdash;"to allow such an idea even
+for a moment to take shape in his brain! What an utter, unmitigated,
+unmanageable, and unimprovable idiot, ass, dolt, and blockhead! Confound
+such a man! I say; confound him!"</p>
+
+<p class = "floatleft">
+<img src = "images/pic031.png" width = "208" height = "230"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"CONFOUND SUCH A MAN! I SAY."</p>
+
+<p>And as Dacres said this he brought his fist down upon the table near
+him with such an energetic crash that a wine-flask was sent spinning on
+the floor, where its ruby contents splashed out in a pool, intermingled
+with fragments of glass.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres was startled by the crash, and looked at it for a while in
+silence. Then he raised his head and looked at his friend. Hawbury
+encountered his glance without any expression. He merely sat and smoked
+and passed his fingers through his pendent whiskers.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," said Dacres, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear boy, a thousand times; only I hope you will allow
+me to remark that your style is altogether a new one, and during the
+whole course of our acquaintance I do not remember seeing it before. You
+have a melodramatic way that is overpowering. Still I don't see why you
+should swear at yourself in a place like Naples, where there are so many
+other things to swear at. It's a waste of human energy, and I don't
+understand it. We usedn't to indulge in soliloquies in South America,
+used we?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, by Jove! And look here, old chap,
+<span class = "pagenum">32</span>
+you'll overlook this little outburst, won't you? In South America I was
+always cool, and you did the hard swearing, my boy. I'll be cool again;
+and what's more, I'll get back to South America again as soon as I can.
+Once on the pampas, and I'll be a man again. I tell you what it is, I'll
+start to-morrow. What do you say? Come."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said Hawbury, coolly; "I can't do that. I have business, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Business?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you know&mdash;Ethel, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! so you have. That alters the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"But in any case I wouldn't go, nor would you. I still am quite
+unable to understand you. Why you should grow desperate, and swear at
+yourself, and then propose South America, is quite beyond me. Above all,
+I don't yet see any reason why you should give up your child-angel. You
+were all raptures but a short time since. Why are you so cold now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you," said Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"So you said ever so long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a sore subject, and difficult to speak about."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man, I'm sorry for you; and don't speak about it at all if
+it gives you pain."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll make a clean breast of it. You've told your affair, and
+I'll tell mine. I dare say I'll feel all the better for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Drive on, then, old man."</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic032.png" width = "454" height = "344"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"HAWBURY SANK BACK IN HIS SEAT, OVERWHELMED."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres rose, took a couple of glasses of beer in quick succession,
+then resumed his seat, then
+<span class = "pagenum">32b</span>
+picked out a cigar from the box with unusual fastidiousness, then drew a
+match, then lighted the cigar, then sent out a dozen heavy volumes of
+smoke, which encircled him so completely that he became quite concealed
+from Hawbury's view. But even this cloud did not seem sufficient to
+correspond with the gloom of his soul. Other clouds rolled forth, and
+still others, until all their congregated folds encircled him, and in
+the midst there was a dim vision of a big head, whose stiff, high,
+curling, crisp hair, and massive brow, and dense beard, seemed like some
+living manifestation of cloud-compelling Jove.</p>
+
+<p>For some time there was silence, and Hawbury said nothing, but waited
+for his friend to speak.</p>
+
+<p>At last a voice was heard&mdash;deep, solemn, awful, portentous,
+ominous, sorrow-laden, weird, mysterious, prophetic, obscure, gloomy,
+doleful, dismal, and apocalyptic.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Hawbury!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man?"</p>
+
+<p>"<span class = "smallcaps">Hawbury!</span>"</p>
+
+<p>"All right."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you listening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Well&mdash;I'm&mdash;married!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury sprang to his feet as though he had been shot.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I'm married!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"You're what? Married? <i>You! married!</i> Scone Dacres! not
+you&mdash;not <i>married?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I'm married!</i>"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">33</span>
+
+<p>"Good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I'm married</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury sank back in his seat, overwhelmed by the force of this
+sudden and tremendous revelation. For some time there was a deep
+silence. Both were smoking. The clouds rolled forth from the lips of
+each, and curled over their heads, and twined in voluminous folds, and
+gathered over them in dark, impenetrable masses. Even so rested the
+clouds of doubt, of darkness, and of gloom over the soul of each, and
+those which were visible to the eye seemed to typify, symbolize,
+characterize, and body forth the darker clouds that overshadowed the
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I'm married</i>!" repeated Dacres, who now seemed to have become
+like Poe's raven, and all his words one melancholy burden bore.</p>
+
+<p>"You were not married when I was last with you?" said Hawbury at
+last, in the tone of one who was recovering from a fainting fit.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was."</p>
+
+<p>"Not in South America?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in South America."</p>
+
+<p>"Married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, married."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and what's more, I've been married for ten years."</p>
+
+<p>"Ten years! Good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's true."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how old could you have been when you got married?"</p>
+
+<p>"A miserable, ignorant, inexperienced dolt, idiot, and brat of a
+boy."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the secret's out; and now, if you care to hear, I will tell
+you all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm dying to hear, dear boy; so go on."</p>
+
+<p>And at this Scone Dacres began his story.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapVIII" id = "chapVIII">
+CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+A MAD WIFE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">"I'll</span> tell you all about it," said
+Scone Dacres; "but don't laugh, for matters like these are not to be
+trifled with, and I may take offense."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother, as if I ever laugh at any thing serious! By Jove! no.
+You don't know me, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then. Well, to begin. This wife that I speak of happened
+to me very suddenly. I was only a boy, just out of Oxford, and just into
+my fortune. I was on my way to Paris&mdash;my first visit&mdash;and was
+full of no end of projects for enjoyment. I went from Dover, and in the
+steamer there was the most infernally pretty girl. Black, mischievous
+eyes, with the devil's light in them; hair curly, crispy, frisky,
+luxuriant, all tossing over her head and shoulders, and an awfully
+enticing manner. A portly old bloke was with her&mdash;her father, I
+afterward learned. Somehow my hat blew off. She laughed. I laughed. Our
+eyes met. I
+<span class = "pagenum">33b</span>
+made a merry remark. She laughed again; and there we were, introduced.
+She gave me a little felt hat of her own. I fastened it on in triumph
+with a bit of string, and wore it all the rest of the way.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you understand it all. Of course, by the time we got to
+Calais, I was head over heels in love, and so was she, for that matter.
+The old man was a jolly old John Bull of a man. I don't believe he had
+the slightest approach to any designs on me. He didn't know any thing
+about me, so how could he? He was jolly, and when we got to Calais he
+was convivial. I attached myself to the two, and had a glorious time.
+Before three days I had exchanged vows of eternal fidelity with the
+lady, and all that, and had gained her consent to marry me on reaching
+England. As to the old man there was no trouble at all. He made no
+inquiries about my means, but wrung my hand heartily, and said God bless
+me. Besides, there were no friends of my own to consider. My parents
+were dead, and I had no relations nearer than cousins, for whom I didn't
+care a pin.</p>
+
+<p>"My wife lived at Exeter, and belonged to rather common people; but,
+of course, I didn't care for that. Her own manners and style were
+refined enough. She had been sent by her father to a very fashionable
+boarding-school, where she had been run through the same mould as that
+in which her superiors had been formed, and so she might have passed
+muster any where. Her father was awfully fond of her, and proud of her.
+She tyrannized over him completely. I soon found out that she had been
+utterly spoiled by his excessive indulgence, and that she was the most
+whimsical, nonsensical, headstrong, little spoiled beauty that ever
+lived. But, of course, all that, instead of deterring me, only increased
+the fascination which she exercised, and made me more madly in love than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Her name was not a particularly attractive one; but what are names!
+It was Arethusa Wiggins. Now the old man always called her "Arry," which
+sounded like the vulgar pronunciation of "Harry." Of course I couldn't
+call her that, and Arethusa was too infernally long, for a fellow
+doesn't want to be all day in pronouncing his wife's name. Besides, it
+isn't a bad name in itself, of course; it's poetic, classic, and does to
+name a ship of war, but isn't quite the thing for one's home and
+hearth.</p>
+
+<p>"After our marriage we spent the honeymoon in Switzerland, and then
+came home. I had a very nice estate, and have it yet. You've never heard
+of Dacres Grange, perhaps&mdash;well, there's where we began life, and a
+devil of a life she began to lead me. It was all very well at first.
+During the honey-moon there were only a few outbursts, and after we came
+to the Grange she repressed herself for about a fortnight; but finally
+she broke out in the most furious fashion; and I began to find that she
+had a devil of a temper, and in her fits she was
+<span class = "pagenum">34</span>
+but a small remove from a mad woman. You see she had been humored and
+indulged and petted and coddled by her old fool of a father, until at
+last she had grown to be the most whimsical, conceited, tetchy,
+suspicious, imperious, domineering, selfish, cruel, hard-hearted, and
+malignant young vixen that ever lived; yet this evil nature dwelt in a
+form as beautiful as ever lived. She was a beautiful demon, and I soon
+found it out.</p>
+
+<p>"It began out of nothing at all. I had been her adoring slave for
+three weeks, until I began to be conscious of the most abominable
+tyranny on her part. I began to resist this, and we were on the verge of
+an outbreak when we arrived at the Grange. The sight of the old hall
+appeased her for a time, but finally the novelty wore off, and her evil
+passions burst out. Naturally enough, my first blind adoration passed
+away, and I began to take my proper position toward her; that is to say,
+I undertook to give her some advice, which she very sorely needed. This
+was the signal for a most furious outbreak. What was worse, her outbreak
+took place before the servants. Of course I could do nothing under such
+circumstances, so I left the room. When I saw her again she was sullen
+and vicious. I attempted a reconciliation, and kneeling down I passed my
+arms caressingly around her. 'Look here,' said I, 'my own poor little
+darling, if I've done wrong, I'm sorry, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you think my lady did?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>kicked me</i>! that's all; she kicked me, just as I was
+apologizing to her&mdash;just as I was trying to make it up. She kicked
+me! when I had done nothing, and she alone had been to blame. What's
+more, her boots were rather heavy, and that kick made itself felt
+unmistakably.</p>
+
+<p>"I at once arose, and left her without a word. I did not speak to her
+then for some time. I used to pass her in the house without looking at
+her. This galled her terribly. She made the house too hot for the
+servants, and I used to hear her all day long scolding them in a loud
+shrill voice, till the sound of that voice became horrible to me.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not suppose, however, that I became alienated all at once.
+That was impossible. I loved her very dearly. After she had kicked me
+away my love still lasted. It was a galling thought to a man like me
+that she, a common girl, the daughter of a small tradesman, should have
+kicked me; me, the descendant of Crusaders, by Jove! and of the best
+blood in England; but after a while pride gave way to love, and I tried
+to open the way for a reconciliation once or twice. I attempted to
+address her in her calmer moods, but it was without any success. She
+would not answer me at all. If servants were in the room she would at
+once proceed to give orders to them, just as though I had not spoken.
+She showed a horrible malignancy in trying to dismiss the older
+servants,
+<span class = "pagenum">34b</span>
+whom she knew to be favorites of mine. Of course I would not let her do
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, one day I found that this sort of life was intolerable, and I
+made an effort to put an end to it all. My love was not all gone yet,
+and I began to think that I had been to blame. She had always been
+indulged, and I ought to have kept up the system a little longer, and
+let her down more gradually. I thought of her as I first saw her in the
+glory of her youthful beauty on the Calais boat, and softened my heart
+till I began to long for a reconciliation. Really I could not see where
+I had done any thing out of the way. I was awfully fond of her at first,
+and would have remained so if she had let me; but, you perceive, her
+style was not exactly the kind which is best adapted to keep a man at a
+woman's feet. If she had shown the slightest particle of tenderness, I
+would have gladly forgiven her all&mdash;yes, even the kick, by
+Jove!</p>
+
+<p>"We had been married about six months or so, and had not spoken for
+over four months; so on the day I refer to I went to her room. She
+received me with a sulky expression, and a hard stare full of
+insult.</p>
+
+<p>"'My dear,' said I, 'I have come to talk seriously with you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Kate,' said she, 'show this gentleman out.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was her maid to whom she spoke. The maid colored. I turned to her
+and pointed to the door, and she went out herself. My wife stood
+trembling with rage&mdash;a beautiful fury.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have determined,' said I, quietly, 'to make one last effort for
+reconciliation, and I want to be heard. Hear me now, dear, dear wife. I
+want your love again; I can not live this way. Can nothing be done? Must
+I, must you, always live this way? Have I done any wrong? If I have, I
+repent. But come, let us forget our quarrel; let us remember the first
+days of our acquaintance. We loved one another, darling. And how
+beautiful you were! You are still as beautiful; won't you be as loving?
+Don't be hard on a fellow, dear. If I've done any wrong, tell me, and
+I'll make it right. See, we are joined together for life. Can't we make
+life sweeter for one another than it is now? Come, my wife, be mine
+again.'</p>
+
+<p>"I went on in this strain for some time, and my own words actually
+softened me more as I spoke. I felt sorry, too, for my wife, she seemed
+so wretched. Besides, it was a last chance, and I determined to humble
+myself. Any thing was better than perpetual hate and misery. So at last
+I got so affected by my own eloquence that I became quite spooney. Her
+back was turned to me; I could not see her face. I thought by her
+silence that she was affected, and, in a gush of tenderness, I put my
+arm around her.</p>
+
+<p>"In an instant she flung it off, and stepped back, confronting me
+with a face as hard and an eye as malevolent as a demon.</p>
+
+<p>"She reached out her hand toward the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"'What are you going to do?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ring for my maid,' said she.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">35</span>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic035.png" width = "339" height = "454"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"VERY WELL. HERE IT IS."</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't,' said I, getting between her and the bell. 'Think; stop, I
+implore you. This is our last chance for a reconciliation.'</p>
+
+<p>"She stepped back with a cruel smile. She had a small penknife in her
+hand. Her eyes glittered venomously.</p>
+
+<p>"'Reconciliation,' she said, with a sneer. '<i>I</i> don't want it;
+<i>I</i> don't want <i>you. You</i> came and forced yourself here. Ring
+for my maid, and I will let her show you the door.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You can't mean it?' I said.</p>
+
+<p>"'I do mean it,' she replied. 'Ring the bell,' she added,
+imperiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I stood looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>"'Leave the room, then,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>"'I must have a satisfactory answer,' said I.</p>
+
+<p>"'Very well,' said she. 'Here it is.'</p>
+
+<p>"And saying this she took the penknife by the blade, between her
+thumb and finger, and slung it at me. It struck me on the arm, and
+buried itself deep in the flesh till it touched the bone. I drew it out,
+and without another word left the room. As I went out I heard her
+summoning the maid in a loud, stern voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, after that I went to the Continent, and spent about six
+months. Then I returned.</p>
+
+<p>"On my return I found every thing changed. She had sent off all the
+servants, and brought there a lot of ruffians whom she was unable to
+manage, and who threw every thing into confusion. All the gentry talked
+of her, and avoided the place. My friends greeted me with strange,
+pitying looks. She had cut down most of the woods, and sold the timber;
+she had sent off a number of valuable pictures and sold them. This was
+to get money, for I afterward found out that avarice was one of her
+strongest vices.</p>
+
+<p>"The sight of all this filled me with indignation, and I at once
+turned out the whole lot of servants, leaving only two or three maids. I
+obtained some of the old servants, and reinstated them. All this made my
+wife quite wild. She came up to me once and began to storm,
+<span class = "pagenum">35b</span>
+but I said something to her which shut her up at once.</p>
+
+<p>"One day I came home and found her on the portico, in her
+riding-habit. She was whipping one of the maids with the butt end of her
+riding-whip. I rushed up and released the poor creature, whose cries
+were really heart-rending, when my wife turned on me, like a fury, and
+struck two blows over my head. One of the scars is on my forehead still.
+See."</p>
+
+<p>And Dacres put aside his hair on the top of his head, just over his
+right eye, and showed a long red mark, which seemed like the scar of a
+dangerous wound.</p>
+
+<p>"It was an ugly blow," he continued. "I at once tore the whip from
+her, and, grasping her hand, led her into the drawing-room. There I
+confronted her, holding her tight. I dare say I was rather a queer
+sight, for the blood was rushing down over my face, and dripping from my
+beard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Look here, now,' I said; 'do you know any reason why I shouldn't
+lay this whip over your shoulders? The English law allows it. Don't you
+feel that you deserve it?'</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">36</span>
+
+<p>"She shrank down, pale and trembling. She was a coward, evidently,
+and accessible to physical terror.</p>
+
+<p>"'If I belonged to your class,' said I, 'I would do it. But I am of a
+different order. I am a gentleman. Go. After all, I'm not sorry that you
+gave me this blow.'</p>
+
+<p>"I stalked out of the room, had a doctor, who bound up the wound, and
+then meditated over my situation. I made up my mind at once to a
+separation. Thus far she had done nothing to warrant a divorce, and
+separation was the only thing. I was laid up and feverish for about a
+month, but at the end of that time I had an interview with my wife. I
+proposed a separation, and suggested that she should go home to her
+father. This she refused. She declared herself quite willing to have a
+separation, but insisted on living at Dacres Grange.</p>
+
+<p>"'And what am I to do?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'Whatever you please,' she replied, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you really propose,' said I, 'to drive me out of the home of my
+ancestors, and live here yourself? Do you think I will allow this place
+to be under your control after the frightful havoc that you have
+made?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I shall remain here,' said she, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"I said nothing more. I saw that she was immovable. At the same time
+I could not consent. I could not live with her, and I could not go away
+leaving her there. I could not give up the ancestral home to her, to mar
+and mangle and destroy. Well, I waited for about two months, and
+then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Hawbury, as Dacres hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Dacres Grange was burned down," said the other, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Burned down!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>"It caught fire in the daytime. There were but few servants. No
+fire-engines were near, for the Grange was in a remote place, and so the
+fire soon gained headway and swept over all. My wife was frantic. She
+came to me as I stood looking at the spectacle, and charged me with
+setting fire to it. I smiled at her, but made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"So you see she was burned out, and that question was settled. It was
+a terrible thing, but desperate diseases require desperate remedies; and
+I felt it more tolerable to have the house in ruins than to have her
+living there while I had to be a wanderer.</p>
+
+<p>"She was now at my mercy. We went to Exeter. She went to her father,
+and I finally succeeded in effecting an arrangement which was
+satisfactory on all sides.</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, the separation should be absolute, and neither of us
+should ever hold communication with the other in any shape or way.</p>
+
+<p>"Secondly, she should take another name, so as to conceal the fact
+that she was my wife, and not do any further dishonor to the name.</p>
+
+<p>"In return for this I was to give her outright twenty thousand pounds
+as her own absolutely,
+<span class = "pagenum">36b</span>
+to invest or spend just as she chose. She insisted on this, so that she
+need not be dependent on any annual allowance. In consideration of this
+she forfeited every other claim, all dower right in the event of my
+death, and every thing else. This was all drawn up in a formal document,
+and worded as carefully as possible. I don't believe that the document
+would be of much use in a court of law in case she wished to claim any
+of her rights, but it served to satisfy her, and she thought it was
+legally sound and actually inviolable.</p>
+
+<p>"Here we separated. I left England, and have never been there
+since."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres stopped, and sat silent for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"Could she have been mad?" asked Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>"I used to think so, but I believe not. She showed too much sense in
+every thing relating to herself. She sold pictures and timber, and kept
+every penny. She was acute enough in grasping all she could. During our
+last interviews while making these arrangements she was perfectly cool
+and lady-like<ins class = "correction" title = "close quote missing">."</ins></p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever heard about her since?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she alive yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the bother."</p>
+
+<p>"What! don't you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you ever tried to find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Two years ago I went and had inquiries made at Exeter. Nothing
+could be found out. She and her father had left the place immediately
+after my departure, and nothing was known about them."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder that you didn't go yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"What for? I didn't care about seeing her or finding her."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she's alive yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid she is. You see she always had excellent health, and
+there's no reason why she should not live to be an octogenarian."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet she may be dead."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>May</i> be! And what sort of comfort is that to me in my present
+position, I should like to know? <i>May</i> be? Is that a sufficient
+foundation for me to build on? No. In a moment of thoughtlessness I have
+allowed myself to forget the horrible position in which I am. But now I
+recall it. I'll crush down my feelings, and be a man again. I'll see the
+child-angel once more; once more feast my soul over her sweet and
+exquisite loveliness; once more get a glance from her tender, innocent,
+and guileless eyes, and then away to South America."</p>
+
+<p>"You said your wife took another name."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it? Do you know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; it was <i>Willoughby</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Willoughby</i>!" cried Hawbury, with a start; "why, that's the
+name of my Ethel's friend, at Montreal. Could it have been the
+same?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh, man! How is that possible? Willoughby is not an uncommon name.
+It's not more likely that your Willoughby and mine are the same than it
+is that your Ethel is the one I
+<span class = "pagenum">37</span>
+met at Vesuvius. It's only a coincidence, and not a very wonderful one,
+either."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems <ins class = "correction" title = "hyphen in original">con-foundedly</ins> odd, too," said Hawbury, thoughtfully.
+"Willoughby? Ethel? Good Lord! But pooh! What rot? As though they
+<i>could</i> be the same. Preposterous! By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>And Hawbury stroked away the preposterous idea through his long,
+pendent whiskers.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic037.png" width = "210" height = "210"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"SHE CAUGHT MINNIE IN HER ARMS."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapIX" id = "chapIX">
+CHAPTER IX.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+NEW EMBARRASSMENTS.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Mrs. Willoughby</span> had been spending a
+few days with a friend whom she had found in Naples, and on her return
+was greatly shocked to hear of Minnie's adventure on Vesuvius. Lady
+Dalrymple and Ethel had a story to tell which needed no exaggerations
+and amplifications to agitate her strongly. Minnie was not present
+during the recital; so, after hearing it, Mrs. Willoughby went to her
+room.</p>
+
+<p>Here she caught Minnie in her arms, and kissed her in a very effusive
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Minnie, my poor darling, what is all this about Vesuvius? Is it
+true? It is terrible. And now I will never dare to leave you again. How
+could I think that you would be in any danger with Lady Dalrymple and
+Ethel? As to Ethel, I am astonished. She is always so grave and so sad
+that she is the very last person I would have supposed capable of
+leading you into danger."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty dearest, that's not true," said Minnie; "she didn't lead
+me at all. I led her. And how did I know there was any danger? I
+remember now that dear, darling Ethel said there was, and I didn't
+believe her. But it's always the way." And Minnie threw her little head
+on one side, and gave a resigned sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"And did you really get into the crater?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, with
+a shudder.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I suppose so. They all said so," said Minnie, folding her little
+hands in front of her.
+<span class = "pagenum">37b</span>
+"I only remember some smoke, and then jolting about dreadfully on the
+shoulder of some great&mdash;big&mdash;awful&mdash;man."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Kitty dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Another man!" groaned her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and how <i>could</i> I help it?" said Minnie. "I'm <i>sure</i>
+I didn't want him. I'm <i>sure</i> I think he might have let me alone. I
+don't see <i>why</i> they all act so. I <i>wish</i> they wouldn't be all
+the time coming and saving my life. If people <i>will</i> go and save my
+life, I can't help it. I think it's very, very horrid of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! oh dear!" sighed her sister again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, stop."</p>
+
+<p>"Another man!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, if you are so unkind, I'll cry. You're <i>always</i>
+teasing me. You <i>never</i> do any thing to comfort me. You <i>know</i>
+I want comfort, and I'm not strong, and people all come and save my life
+and worry me; and I really sometimes think I'd rather not live at all if
+my life <i>has</i> to be saved so often. I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know
+why they go and do it. I'm sure <i>I</i> never heard of any person who
+is always going and getting her life saved, and bothered, and proposed
+to, and written to, and chased, and frightened to death. And I've a
+<i>great</i> mind to go and get married, just to stop it all. And I'd
+<i>just</i> as soon marry this last man as not, and make him drive all
+the others away from me. He's big enough."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie ended all this with a little sob; and her sister, as usual,
+did her best to soothe and quiet her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but, darling, how did it all happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't, don't."</p>
+
+<p>"But you might tell <i>me</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can't bear to think of it. It's too horrible."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor darling&mdash;the crater?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the great, big man. I didn't see any crater."</p>
+
+<p>"Weren't you in the crater?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I wasn't."</p>
+
+<p>"They said you were."</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't. I was on the back of a big, horrid man, who gave great
+jumps down the side of an awful mountain, all sand and things, and threw
+me down at the bottom of it, and&mdash;and&mdash;disarranged all my
+hair. And I was so frightened that I couldn't even
+cur&mdash;cur&mdash;cry."</p>
+
+<p>Here Minnie sobbed afresh, and Mrs. Willoughby petted her again.</p>
+
+<p>"And you shouldn't tease me so; and it's very unkind in you; and you
+know I'm not well; and I can't bear to think about it all; and I know
+you're going to scold me; and you're <i>always</i> scolding me; and you
+<i>never</i> do what I want you to. And then people are <i>always</i>
+coming and saving my life, and I can't bear it any more."</p>
+
+<p>"No-o-o-o-o-o, n-n-no-o-o-o, darling!" said Mrs. Willoughby,
+soothingly, in the tone of a nurse appeasing a fretful child. "You
+sha'n't bear it any more."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">38</span>
+
+<p>"I don't <i>want</i> them to save me any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they sha'n't <i>do</i> it, then," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+affectionately, in a somewhat maudlin tone.</p>
+
+<p>"And the next time I lose my life, I don't want to be saved. I want
+them to let me alone, and I'll come home myself."</p>
+
+<p>"And so you shall, darling; you shall do just as you please. So, now,
+cheer up; don't cry;" and Mrs. Willoughby tried to wipe Minnie's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"But you're treating me just like a baby, and I don't want to be
+talked to so," said Minnie, fretfully.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby retreated with a look of despair.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, dear, I'll do just whatever you want me to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I want you to tell me what I am to do."</p>
+
+<p>"About what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, about this great, big, horrid man."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you didn't want me to talk about this any more."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>do</i> want you to talk about it. You're the only person
+that I've got to talk to about it; nobody else knows how peculiarly I'm
+situated; and I didn't think that you'd give me up because I had fresh
+troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"Give you up, darling!" echoed her sister, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You said you wouldn't talk about it any more."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought you didn't want me to talk about it."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>do</i> want you to."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then; and now I want you first of all, darling, to tell
+me how you happened to get into such danger."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know," began Minnie, who now seemed calmer&mdash;"you know
+we all went out for a drive. And we drove along for miles. Such a drive!
+There were lazaroni, and donkeys, and calèches with as many as twenty in
+each, all pulled by one poor horse, and it's a great shame; and
+pigs&mdash;oh, <i>such</i> pigs! Not a particle of hair on them, you
+know, and looking like young elephants, you know; and we saw great
+droves of oxen, and long lines of booths, no end; and people selling
+macaroni, and other people eating it right in the open street, you
+know&mdash;such fun!&mdash;and fishermen and fish-wives. Oh, how they
+<i>were</i> screaming, and oh, <i>such</i> a hubbub as there was! and we
+couldn't go on fast, and Dowdy seemed really frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"Dowdy?" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, in an interrogative tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's a name I've just invented for Lady Dalrymple. It's better
+than Rymple. She said so. It's Dowager shortened. She's a dowager, you
+know. And so, you know, I was on the front seat all the time, when all
+at once I saw a gentleman on horseback. He was a great big man&mdash;oh,
+<i>so</i> handsome!&mdash;and he was looking at poor little me as though
+he
+<span class = "pagenum">38b</span>
+would eat me up. And the moment I saw him I was frightened out of my
+poor little wits, for I knew he was coming to save my life."</p>
+
+<p>"You poor little puss! what put such an idea as that into your
+ridiculous little head?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I knew it&mdash;second-sight, you know. We've got Scotch blood,
+Kitty darling, you know. So, you know, I sat, and I saw that he was
+pretending not to see me, and not to be following us; but all the time
+he was taking good care to keep behind us, when he could easily have
+passed us, and all to get a good look at poor me, you know.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," continued Minnie, drawing a long breath, "you know I was
+awfully frightened; and so I sat looking at him, and I whispered all the
+time to myself: 'Oh, please don't!&mdash;ple-e-e-e-e-ease don't! Don't
+come and save my life! Ple-e-e-e-e-ease let me alone! I don't want to be
+saved at all.' I said this, you know, all to myself, and the more I said
+it the more he seemed to fix his eyes on me."</p>
+
+<p>"It was very, very rude in him, <i>I</i> think," said Mrs.
+Willoughby, with some indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it wasn't," said Minnie, sharply. "He wasn't rude at all. He
+tried not to look at me. He pretended to be looking at the sea, and at
+the pigs, and all that sort of thing, you know; but all the time, you
+know, I knew very well that he saw me out of the corner of his
+eye&mdash;this way."</p>
+
+<p>And Minnie half turned her head, and threw upon her sister, out of
+the corner of her eyes, a glance so languishing that the other
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't look at you that way. I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was nothing to laugh at in it at all," said Minnie. "He had an
+awfully solemn look&mdash;it was so earnest, so sad, and so dreadful,
+that I really began to feel quite frightened. And so would <i>you</i>;
+wouldn't <i>you</i>, now, Kitty darling; now <i>wouldn't</i> you? Please
+say so."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you would. Well, this person followed us. I could see him
+very easily, though he tried to avoid notice; and so at last we got to
+the Hermitage, and he came too. Well, you know, I think I was very much
+excited, and I asked Dowdy to let us go and see the cone; so she let us
+go. She gave no end of warnings, and we promised to do all that she
+said. So Ethel and I went out, and there was the stranger. Well, I felt
+more excited than ever, and a little bit frightened&mdash;just a very,
+very, tiny, little bit, you know, and I teased Ethel to go to the cone.
+Well, the stranger kept in sight all the time, you know, and I
+<i>felt</i> his eyes on me&mdash;I really <i>felt</i> them. So, you
+know, when we got at the foot of the cone, I was so excited that I was
+really quite beside myself, and I teased and teased, till at last Ethel
+consented to go up. So the men took us up on chairs, and all the time
+the stranger was in sight. He walked up by himself with great, big,
+long, strong strides. So we went on till we got at the top, and then I
+was wilder than ever. I didn't know that there
+<span class = "pagenum">39</span>
+was a particle of danger. I was dying with curiosity to look down, and
+see where the smoke came from. The stranger was standing there too, and
+that's what made me so excited. I wanted to show him&mdash;I don't know
+what. I think my idea was to show him that I could take care of myself.
+So then I teased and teased, and Ethel begged and prayed, and she cried,
+and I laughed; and there stood the stranger, seeing it all, until at
+last I started off, and ran up to the top, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby shuddered, and took her sister's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"There was no end of smoke, you know, and it was awfully unpleasant,
+and I got to the top I don't know how, when suddenly I fainted."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie paused for a moment, and looked at her sister with a rueful
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, dear, darling, the very&mdash;next&mdash;thing&mdash;that
+I remember is this, and it's horrid: I felt awful jolts, and found
+myself in the arms of a great, big, horrid man, who was running down the
+side of the mountain with dreadfully long jumps, and I felt as though he
+was some horrid ogre carrying poor me away to his den to eat me up. But
+I didn't say one word. I wasn't much frightened. I felt provoked. I knew
+it was that horrid man. And then I wondered what you'd say; and I
+thought, oh, how you <i>would</i> scold! And then I knew that this
+horrid man would chase me away from Italy; and then I would have to go
+to Turkey, and have my life saved by a Mohammedan. And that was
+horrid.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at last he stopped and laid me down. He was very gentle,
+though he was so big. I kept my eyes shut, and lay as still as a mouse,
+hoping that Ethel would come. But Ethel didn't. She was coming down with
+the chair, you know, and her men couldn't run like mine. And oh, Kitty
+darling, you have no <i>idea</i> what I suffered. This horrid man was
+rubbing and pounding at my hands, and sighing and groaning. I stole a
+little bit of a look at him&mdash;just a little bit of a bit&mdash;and
+saw tears in his eyes, and a wild look of fear in his face. Then I knew
+that he was going to propose to me on the spot, and kept my eyes shut
+tighter than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at last he hurt my hands so that I thought I'd try to make him
+stop. So I spoke as low as I could, and asked if I was home, and he said
+yes."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Minnie, in a doleful tone, "I then asked, 'Is that you,
+papa dear?'"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie stopped again.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Mrs. Willoughby once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he said&mdash;he said,<ins class = "correction" title = "open quote missing"> '</ins>Yes, darling'&mdash;and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And what?"</p>
+
+<p>"And he kissed me," said Minnie, in a doleful voice.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">39b</span>
+
+<p>"Kissed you!" exclaimed her sister, with flashing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-yes," stammered Minnie, with a sob; "and I think it's a shame;
+and none of them ever did so before; and I don't want you ever to go
+away again, Kitty darling."</p>
+
+<p>"The miserable wretch!" cried Mrs. Willoughby, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he isn't&mdash;he isn't that," said Minnie. "He isn't a
+miserable wretch at all."</p>
+
+<p>"How could any one be so base who pretends to the name of gentleman!"
+cried Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"He wasn't base&mdash;and it's very wicked of you, Kitty. He only
+pretended, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretended!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretended what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that he was my&mdash;my father, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Ethel know this?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, after a curious look
+at Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not, nor Dowdy either; and you mustn't go and make any
+disturbance."</p>
+
+<p>"Disturbance? no; but if I ever see him, I'll let him know what I
+think of him," said Mrs. Willoughby, severely.</p>
+
+<p>"But he saved my life, and so you know you can't be <i>very</i> harsh
+with him. Please don't&mdash;ple-e-e-ease now, Kitty darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you little goose, what whimsical idea have you got now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't, ple-e-e-ease don't," repeated Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind; go on now, darling, and tell me about the rest of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there isn't any more. I lay still, you know, and at last Ethel
+came; and then we went back to Dowdy, and then we came home, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope you've lost him."</p>
+
+<p>"Lost him? Oh no; I never do. They always <i>will</i> come. Besides,
+this one will, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he said so."</p>
+
+<p>"Said so? when?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; we met him."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dowdy and I. We were out driving. We stopped and spoke to him. He
+was dreadfully earnest and awfully embarrassed; and I knew he was going
+to propose; so I kept whispering to myself all the time, 'Oh, please
+don't&mdash;please don't;' but I know he will; and he'll be here soon
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"He sha'n't. I won't let him. I'll never give him the chance."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you needn't be so cruel."</p>
+
+<p>"Cruel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; to the poor man."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you don't want another man, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"N-no; but then I don't want to hurt his feelings. It was awfully
+good of him, you know, and <i>aw</i>fully plucky."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">40</span>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic040.png" width = "451" height = "345"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"IF I EVER SEE HIM, I'LL LET HIM KNOW WHAT I THINK OF HIM."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I should think that you would prefer avoiding him, in your
+peculiar situation."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he may feel hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he may see you once or twice with me."</p>
+
+<p>"But he may want to see me alone, and what <i>can</i> I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really now, Minnie, you must remember that you are in a serious
+position. There is that wretched Captain Kirby."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said Minnie, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"And that dreadful American. By-the-way, darling, you have never told
+me his name. It isn't of any consequence, but I should like to know the
+American's name."</p>
+
+<p>"It's&mdash;Rufus K. Gunn."</p>
+
+<p>"Rufus K. Gunn; what a funny name! and what in the world is 'K'
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing. He says it is the fashion in his country to have some
+letter of the alphabet between one's names, and he chose 'K,' because it
+was so awfully uncommon. Isn't it funny, Kitty darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" sighed her sister; "and then there is that pertinacious
+Count Girasole. Think what trouble we had in getting quietly rid of him.
+I'm afraid all the time that he will not stay at Florence, as he said,
+for he seems to have no fixed abode. First he was going to Rome, and
+then Venice, and at last he committed himself to a statement that he had
+to remain at Florence, and so enabled us to get rid of him. But I know
+he'll come upon us again somewhere, and then we'll have all the trouble
+over again. Oh dear! Well, Minnie
+<span class = "pagenum">40b</span>
+darling, do you know the name of this last one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a funny name," said Minnie; "a very funny name."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"It's Scone Dacres; and isn't that a funny name?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby started at the mention of that name. Then she turned
+away her head, and did not say a word for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty!"</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty darling, what's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby turned her head once more. Her face was quite calm,
+and her voice had its usual tone, as she asked,</p>
+
+<p>"Say that name again."</p>
+
+<p>"Scone Dacres," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Scone Dacres!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby;
+<span class = "pagenum">41</span>
+"and what sort of a man is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Big&mdash;very big&mdash;awfully big!" said Minnie. "Great, big head
+and broad shoulders. Great, big arms, that carried me as if I were a
+feather; big beard too; and it tickled me so when he&mdash;he pretended
+that he was my father; and very sad. And, oh! I know I should be so
+<i>aw</i>fully fond of him. And, oh! Kitty darling, what do you
+think?"</p>
+
+<p>"What, dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I'm&mdash;I'm afraid&mdash;I'm really beginning
+to&mdash;to&mdash;like him&mdash;just a little tiny bit, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Scone Dacres!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, who didn't seem to have
+heard this last effusion. "Scone Dacres! Well, darling, don't trouble
+yourself; he sha'n't trouble you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>want</i> him to," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense, child!"</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic041.png" width = "215" height = "289"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"HALLO, OLD MAN, WHAT'S UP NOW?"</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapX" id = "chapX">
+CHAPTER X.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+A FEARFUL DISCOVERY.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">A few</span> days after this Hawbury was in
+his room, when Dacres entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, old man, what's up now? How goes the war?" said Hawbury. "But
+what the mischief's the matter? You look cut up. Your brow is sad; your
+eyes beneath flash like a falchion from its sheath. What's happened? You
+look half snubbed, and half desperate."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres said not a word, but flung himself into a chair with a look
+that suited Hawbury's description of him quite accurately. His brows
+lowered into a heavy frown, his lips were compressed, and his breath
+came quick and hard through his inflated nostrils. He sat thus for some
+time without taking any notice whatever of his friend, and at length
+lighted a cigar, which he smoked, as he often did when excited, in great
+voluminous puffs. Hawbury said nothing, but after one or two quick
+glances at his friend, rang a bell and ordered some "Bass."</p>
+
+<p>"Here, old fellow," said he, drawing the attention of Dacres to the
+refreshing draught. "Take some&mdash;'Quaff, oh, quaff this kind
+nepenthe, and forget thy lost Lenore.'"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres at this gave a heavy sigh that sounded like a groan, and
+swallowed several tumblers in quick succession.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">41b</span>
+
+<p>"Hawbury!" said he at length, in a half-stifled voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've had a blow to-day full on the breast that fairly staggered
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fact. I've just come from a mad ride along the shore. I've been mad,
+I think, for two or three hours. Of all the monstrous, abominable,
+infernal, and unheard-of catastrophes this is the worst."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped, and puffed away desperately at his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't keep a fellow in suspense this way," said Hawbury at last.
+"What's up? Out with it, man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, yesterday I called there."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"She was not at home."</p>
+
+<p>"So you said."</p>
+
+<p>"You know she really wasn't, for I told you that I met their
+carriage. The whole party were in it, and on the front seat beside
+Minnie there was another lady. This is the one that I had not seen
+before. She makes the fourth in that party. She and Minnie had their
+backs turned as they came up. The other ladies bowed as they passed, and
+as I held off my hat I half turned to catch Minnie's eyes, when I caught
+sight of the face of the lady. It startled me so much that I was
+thunder-struck, and stood there with my hat off after they had passed me
+for some time."</p>
+
+<p>"You said nothing about that, old chap. Who the deuce could she have
+been?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I said nothing about it. As I cantered off I began to think that
+it was only a fancy of mine, and finally I was sure of it, and laughed
+it off. For, you must know, the lady's face looked astonishingly like a
+certain face that I don't particularly care to see&mdash;certainly not
+in such close connection with Minnie. But, you see, I thought it might
+have been my fancy, so that I finally shook off the feeling, and said
+nothing to you about it."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres paused here, rubbed his hand violently over his hair at the
+place where the scar was, and then, frowning heavily, resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this afternoon I called again. They were at home. On entering
+I found three ladies there. One was Lady Dalrymple, and the others were
+Minnie and her friend Ethel&mdash;either her friend or her sister. I
+think she's her sister. Well, I sat for about five minutes, and was just
+beginning to feel the full sense of my happiness, when the door opened
+and another lady entered. Hawbury"&mdash;and Dacres's tones deepened
+into an awful solemnity&mdash;"Hawbury, it was the lady that I saw in
+the carriage yesterday. One look at her was enough. I was assured then
+that my impressions yesterday were not dreams, but the damnable and
+abhorrent truth!"</p>
+
+<p>"What impressions&mdash;you haven't told me yet, you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute. I rose as she entered, and
+<span class = "pagenum">42</span>
+confronted her. She looked at me calmly, and then stood as though
+expecting to be introduced. There was no emotion visible whatever. She
+was prepared for it: I was not: and so she was as cool as when I saw her
+last, and, what is more, just as young and beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"The devil!" cried Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic042.png" width = "452" height = "452"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"I STOOD TRANSFIXED."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres poured out another glass of ale and drank it. His hand
+trembled slightly as he put down the glass, and he sat for some time in
+thought before he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lady Dalrymple introduced us. It was Mrs. Willoughby!"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "I saw you were coming to that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, the whole thing was so sudden, so unexpected, and so
+perfectly overwhelming, that I stood transfixed. I said nothing. I
+believe I bowed, and then somehow or other, I really don't know how, I
+got away, and, mounting my horse, rode off like a madman. Then I came
+home, and here you see me."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence now for some time.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure that it was your wife?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">42b</span>
+
+<p>"Of course I am. How could I be mistaken?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure the name was Willoughby?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly sure."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is the name your wife took?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I told you so before, didn't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But think now. Mightn't there be some mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! how could there be any mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you see any change in her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, only that she looked much more quiet than she used to. Not so
+active, you know. In her best days she was always excitable, and a
+little demonstrative; but now she seems to have sobered down, and is as
+quiet and well-bred as any of the others."</p>
+
+<p>"Was there not any change in her at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so much as I would have supposed; certainly not so much as there
+is in me. But then I've been knocking about all over the world, and
+she's been living a life of peace and calm, with the sweet consciousness
+of having triumphed over a hated husband, and possessing a handsome
+competency. Now she mingles in the best society. She associates with
+<span class = "pagenum">43</span>
+lords and ladies. She enjoys life in England, while I am an exile. No
+doubt she passes for a fine young widow. No doubt, too, she has lots of
+admirers. They aspire to her hand. They write poetry to her. They make
+love to her. Confound her!"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres's voice grew more and more agitated and excited as he spoke,
+and at length his tirade against his wife ended in something that was
+almost a roar.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury said nothing, but listened, with his face full of sympathy.
+At last his pent-up feeling found expression in his favorite
+exclamation, "By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't I be justified in wringing her neck?" asked Dacres, after a
+pause. "And what's worse," he continued, without waiting for an answer
+to his question&mdash;"what's worse, her presence here in this
+unexpected way has given me, <i>me</i>, mind you, a sense of guilt,
+while she is, of course, immaculate. <i>I</i>, mind you&mdash;<i>I</i>,
+the injured husband, with the scar on my head from a wound made by
+<i>her</i> hand, and all the ghosts of my ancestors howling curses over
+me at night for my desolated and ruined home&mdash;<i>I</i> am to be
+conscience-stricken in her presence, as if I were a felon, while
+<i>she</i>, the really guilty one&mdash;the blight and bitter
+destruction of my life&mdash;<i>she</i> is to appear before me now as
+injured, and must make her appearance here, standing by the side of that
+sweet child-angel, and warning me away. Confound it all, man! Do you
+mean to say that such a thing is to be borne?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres was now quite frantic; so Hawbury, with a sigh of perplexity,
+lighted a fresh cigar, and thus took refuge from the helplessness of his
+position. It was clearly a state of things in which advice was utterly
+useless, and consolation impossible. What could he advise, or what
+consolation could he offer? The child-angel was now out of his friend's
+reach, and the worst fears of the lover were more than realized.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I was afraid of this," continued Dacres. "I had a
+suspicion that she was alive, and I firmly believe she'll outlive me
+forty years; but I must say I never expected to see her in this way,
+under such circumstances. And then to find her so infernally beautiful!
+Confound her! she don't look over twenty-five. How the mischief does she
+manage it? Oh, she's a deep one! But perhaps she's changed. She seems so
+calm, and came into the room so gently, and looked at me so steadily.
+Not a tremor, not a shake, as I live. Calm, Sir; cool as steel, and hard
+too. She looked away, and then looked back. They were searching glances,
+too, as though they read me through and through. Well, there was no
+occasion for that. She ought to know Scone Dacres well enough, I swear.
+Cool! And there stood I, with the blood flashing to my head, and
+throbbing fire underneath the scar of her wound&mdash;hers&mdash;her own
+property, for she made it! That was the woman that kicked me, that
+<span class = "pagenum">43b</span>
+struck at me, that caused the destruction of my ancestral house, that
+drove me to exile, and that now drives me back from my love. But, by
+Heaven! it'll take more than her to do it; and I'll show her again, as I
+showed her once before, that Scone Dacres is her master. And, by Jove!
+she'll find that it'll take more than herself to keep me away from
+Minnie Fay."</p>
+
+<p>"See here, old boy," said Hawbury, "you may as well throw up the
+sponge."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't," said Dacres, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"You see it isn't your wife that you have to consider, but the girl;
+and do you think the girl or her friends would have a married man paying
+his attentions in that quarter? Would you have the face to do it under
+your own wife's eye? By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>The undeniable truth of this assertion was felt by Dacres even in his
+rage. But the very fact that it was unanswerable, and that he was
+helpless, only served to deepen and intensify his rage. Yet he said
+nothing; it was only in his face and manner that his rage was
+manifested. He appeared almost to suffocate under the rush of fierce,
+contending passions; big distended veins swelled out in his forehead,
+which was also drawn far down in a gloomy frown; his breath came thick
+and fast, and his hands were clenched tight together. Hawbury watched
+him in silence as before, feeling all the time the impossibility of
+saying any thing that could be of any use whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old fellow," said Dacres at last, giving a long breath, in
+which he seemed to throw off some of his excitement, "you're right, of
+course, and I am helpless. There's no chance for me. Paying attentions
+is out of the question, and the only thing for me to do is to give up
+the whole thing. But that isn't to be done at once. It's been long since
+I've seen any one for whom I felt any tenderness, and this little thing,
+I know, is fond of me. I can't quit her at once. I must stay on for a
+time, at least, and have occasional glimpses at her. It gives me a fresh
+sense of almost heavenly sweetness to look at her fair young face.
+Besides, I feel that I am far more to her than any other man. No other
+man has stood to her in the relation in which I have stood. Recollect
+how I saved her from death. That is no light thing. She must feel toward
+me as she has never felt to any other. She is not one who can forget how
+I snatched her from a fearful death, and brought her back to life. Every
+time she looks at me she seems to convey all that to me in her
+glance."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "just think.
+You can't do any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to do any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"It never can end in any thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want it to end in any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll only bother her by entangling her affections."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to entangle her affections."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">44</span>
+
+<p>"Then what the mischief <i>do</i> you want to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, very little. I'll start off soon for the uttermost ends of the
+earth, but I wish to stay a little longer and see her sweet face. It's
+not much, is it? It won't compromise her, will it? She need not run any
+risk, need she? And I'm a man of honor, am I not? You don't suppose me
+to be capable of any baseness, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, how absurd! Of course not. Only I was afraid by
+giving way to this you might drift on into a worse state of mind. She's
+all safe, I fancy, surrounded as she is by so many guardians. It is you
+that I'm anxious about."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be alarmed, old chap, about me. I feel calmer already. I can
+face my situation firmly, and prepare for the worst. While I have been
+sitting here I have thought out the future. I will stay here four or
+five weeks. I will only seek solace for myself by riding about where I
+may meet her. I do not intend to go to the house at all. My demon of a
+wife may have the whole house to herself. I won't even give her the
+pleasure of supposing that she has thwarted me. She shall never even
+suspect the state of my heart. That would be bliss indeed to one like
+her, for then she would find herself able to put me on the rack. No, my
+boy; I've thought it all over. Scone Dacres is himself again. No more
+nonsense now. Do you understand now what I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Hawbury, slowly, and in his worst drawl; "but ah, really,
+don't you think it's all nonsense?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this ducking and diving about to get a glimpse of her
+face."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't intend to duck and dive about. I merely intend to ride like
+any other gentleman. What put that into your head, man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know; I gathered it from the way you expressed
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't intend any thing of the kind. I simply wish to have
+occasional looks at her&mdash;to get a bow and a smile of recognition
+when I meet her, and have a few additional recollections to turn over in
+my thoughts after I have left her forever. Perhaps this seems odd."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, it doesn't. I quite understand it. A passing smile or a
+parting sigh is sometimes more precious than any other memory. I know
+all about it, you know&mdash;looks, glances, smiles, sighs, and all that
+sort of thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, old chap, there's one thing I want you to do for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't much, old fellow. It isn't much. I simply wish you to visit
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Me</i>?&mdash;visit <i>there</i>? What! me&mdash;and visit? Why,
+my dear fellow, don't you know how I hate such bother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know all about that; but, old boy, it's only for a few weeks I ask
+it, and for my
+<span class = "pagenum">44b</span>
+sake, as a particular favor. I put it in that light."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, really, dear boy, if you put it in that light, you know,
+of course, that I'll do any thing, even if it comes to letting myself be
+bored to death."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a visit a day or so."</p>
+
+<p>"A visit a day!" Hawbury looked aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't much to ask, you know," continued Dacres. "You see my
+reason is this: I can't go there myself, as you see, but I hunger to
+hear about her. I should like to hear how she looks, and what she says,
+and whether she thinks of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come now! look here, my dear fellow, you're putting it a little
+too strong. You don't expect me to go there and talk to her about you,
+you know. Why, man alive, that's quite out of my way. I'm not much of a
+talker at any time; and besides, you know, there's something distasteful
+in acting as&mdash;as&mdash;By Jove! I don't know what to call it."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, you don't understand me. Do you think I'm a sneak? Do
+you suppose I'd ask you to act as a go-between? Nonsense! I merely ask
+you to go as a cursory visitor. I don't want you to breathe my name, or
+even think of me while you are there."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose I make myself too agreeable to the young lady. By Jove!
+she might think I was paying her attentions, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, no! believe me, you don't know her. She's too earnest; she
+has too much soul to shift and change. Oh no! I feel that she is mine,
+and that the image of my own miserable self is indelibly impressed upon
+her heart. Oh no! you don't know her. If you had heard her thrilling
+expressions of gratitude, if you had seen the beseeching and pleading
+looks which she gave me, you would know that she is one of those natures
+who love once, and once only."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by Jove, now! Come! If that's the 'state of the case, why, I'll
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, old boy."</p>
+
+<p>"As a simple visitor."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"To talk about the weather, and that rot."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And no more."</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a word about you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a word."</p>
+
+<p>"No leading questions, and that sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the kind."</p>
+
+<p>"No hints, no watching, but just as if I went there of my own
+accord."</p>
+
+<p>"That's exactly the thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well; and now, pray, what good is all this going to do to you,
+my boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, just this; I can talk to you about her every evening, and you
+can tell me how she looks, and what she says, and all that sort of
+thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">45</span>
+
+<p>"And you'll cheer my heart, old fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Heavens and earth! old boy, you don't seem to think that this is
+going to be no end of a bore."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it, old man; but then, you know, I'm desperate just now."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>And Hawbury, uttering this exclamation, relapsed into silence, and
+wondered over his friend's infatuation.</p>
+
+<p>On the following day when Dacres came in he found that Hawbury had
+kept his word.</p>
+
+<p>"Great bore, old fellow," said he; "but I did it. The old lady is an
+old acquaintance, you know. I'm going there to-morrow again. Didn't see
+any thing to-day of the child-angel. But it's no end of a bore, you
+know."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic045.png" width = "212" height = "336"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"'IT'S HE!' SHE MURMURED."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXI" id = "chapXI">
+CHAPTER XI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+FALSE AND FORGETFUL.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> day when Lord Hawbury called on
+Lady Dalrymple was a very eventful one in his life, and had it not been
+for a slight peculiarity of his, the immediate result of that visit
+would have been of a highly important character. This slight peculiarity
+consisted in the fact that he was short-sighted, and, therefore, on a
+very critical occasion turned away from that which would have been his
+greatest joy, although it was full before his gaze.</p>
+
+<p>It happened in this wise:</p>
+
+<p>On the day when Hawbury called, Ethel happened to be sitting by the
+window, and saw
+<span class = "pagenum">45b</span>
+him as he rode up. Now the last time that she had seen him he had a very
+different appearance&mdash;all his hair being burned off, from head and
+cheeks and chin; and the whiskers which he had when she first met him
+had been of a different cut from the present appendages. In spite of
+this she recognized him almost in a moment; and her heart beat fast, and
+her color came and went, and her hands clutched the window ledge
+convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"It's <i>he</i>!" she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Of course there was only one idea in her mind, and that was that he
+had heard of her presence in Naples, and had come to call on her.</p>
+
+<p>She sat there without motion, with her head eagerly bent forward, and
+her eyes fixed upon him. He looked up carelessly as he came along, and
+with his chin in the air, in a fashion peculiar to him, which,
+by-the-way, gave a quite unintentional superciliousness to his
+expression. For an instant his eyes rested upon her, then they moved
+away, without the slightest recognition, and wandered elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel's heart seemed turned to stone. He had seen her. He had not
+noticed her. He had fixed his eyes on her and then looked away. Bitter,
+indeed, was all this to her. To think that after so long a period of
+waiting&mdash;after such hope and watching as hers had been&mdash;that
+this should be the end. She turned away from the window, with a choking
+sensation in her throat. No one was in the room. She was alone with her
+thoughts and her tears.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly her mood changed. A thought came to her which dispelled her
+gloom. The glance that he had given was too hasty; perhaps he really had
+not fairly looked at her. No doubt he had come for her, and she would
+shortly be summoned down.</p>
+
+<p>And now this prospect brought new hope. Light returned to her eyes,
+and joy to her heart. Yes, she would be summoned. She must prepare
+herself to encounter his eager gaze. Quickly she stepped to the mirror,
+hastily she arranged those little details in which consists the charm of
+a lady's dress, and severely she scrutinized the face and figure
+reflected there. The scrutiny was a satisfactory one. Face and figure
+were perfect; nor was there in the world any thing more graceful and
+more lovely than the image there, though the one who looked upon it was
+far too self-distrustful to entertain any such idea as that.</p>
+
+<p>Then she seated herself and waited. The time moved slowly, indeed, as
+she waited there. After a few minutes she found it impossible to sit any
+longer. She walked to the door, held it open, and listened. She heard
+his voice below quite plainly. They had two suits of rooms in the
+house&mdash;the bedrooms up stairs and reception-rooms below. Here Lord
+Hawbury was, now, within hearing of Ethel. Well she knew that voice. She
+listened and frowned. The tone was too flippant. He talked like a man
+without a care&mdash;like a butterfly of society&mdash;and
+<span class = "pagenum">46</span>
+that was a class which she scorned. Here he was, keeping her waiting.
+Here he was, keeping up a hateful clatter of small-talk, while her heart
+was aching with suspense.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel stood there listening. Minute succeeded to minute. There was no
+request for her. How strong was the contrast between the cool
+indifference of the man below, and the feverish impatience of that
+listener above! A wild impulse came to her to go down, under the
+pretense of looking for something; then another to go down and out for a
+walk, so that he might see her. But in either case pride held her back.
+How could she? Had he not already seen her? Must he not know perfectly
+well that she was there? No; if he did not call for her she could not
+go. She could not make advances.</p>
+
+<p>Minute succeeded to minute, and Ethel stood burning with impatience,
+racked with suspense, a prey to the bitterest feelings. Still no
+message. Why did he delay? Her heart ached now worse than ever, the
+choking feeling in her throat returned, and her eyes grew moist. She
+steadied herself by holding to the door. Her fingers grew white at the
+tightness of her grasp; eyes and ears were strained in their intent
+watchfulness over the room below.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the caller below was in a perfect state of ignorance about
+all this. He had not the remotest idea of that one who now stood so
+near. He came as a martyr. He came to make a call. It was a thing he
+detested. It bored him. To a man like him the one thing to be avoided on
+earth was a bore. To be bored was to his mind the uttermost depth of
+misfortune. This he had voluntarily accepted. He was being bored, and
+bored to death.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly no man ever accepted a calamity more gracefully than
+Hawbury. He was charming, affable, easy, chatty. Of course he was known
+to Lady Dalrymple. The Dowager could make herself as agreeable as any
+lady living, except young and beautiful ones. The conversation,
+therefore, was easy and flowing. Hawbury excelled in this.</p>
+
+<p>Now there are several variations in the great art of expression, and
+each of these is a minor art by itself. Among these may be
+enumerated:</p>
+
+<p>First, of course, the art of novel-writing.</p>
+
+<p>Second, the art of writing editorials.</p>
+
+<p>Third, the art of writing paragraphs.</p>
+
+<p>After these come all the arts of oratory, letter-writing,
+essay-writing, and all that sort of thing, among which there is one to
+which I wish particularly to call attention, and this is:</p>
+
+<p>The art of small-talk.</p>
+
+<p>Now this art Hawbury had to an extraordinary degree of perfection. He
+knew how to beat out the faintest shred of an idea into an illimitable
+surface of small-talk. He never took refuge in the weather. He left that
+to bunglers and beginners. His resources were of a different character,
+and were so skillfully managed that he never failed to leave a very
+agreeable impression. Small-talk! Why, I've been in situations sometimes
+where I would have given
+<span class = "pagenum">46b</span>
+the power of writing like Dickens (if I had it) for perfection in this
+last art.</p>
+
+<p>But this careless, easy, limpid, smooth, natural, pleasant, and
+agreeable flow of chat was nothing but gall and wormwood to the listener
+above. She ought to be there. Why was she so slighted? Could it be
+possible that he would go away without seeing her?</p>
+
+<p>She was soon to know.</p>
+
+<p>She heard him rise. She heard him saunter to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, yes. Ha, ha, you're too
+kind&mdash;really&mdash;yes&mdash;very happy, you know. To-morrow, is
+it? Good-morning."</p>
+
+<p>And with these words he went out.</p>
+
+<p>With pale face and staring eyes Ethel darted back to the window. He
+did not see her. His back was turned. He mounted his horse and gayly
+cantered away. For full five minutes Ethel stood, crouched in the shadow
+of the window, staring after him, with her dark eyes burning and glowing
+in the intensity of their gaze. Then she turned away with a bewildered
+look. Then she locked the door. Then she flung herself upon the sofa,
+buried her head in her hands, and burst into a convulsive passion of
+tears. Miserable, indeed, were the thoughts that came now to that poor
+stricken girl as she lay there prostrate. She had waited long, and hoped
+fondly, and all her waiting and all her hope had been for this. It was
+for this that she had been praying&mdash;for this that she had so fondly
+cherished his memory. He had come at last, and he had gone; but for her
+he had certainly shown nothing save an indifference as profound as it
+was inexplicable.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel's excuse for not appearing at the dinner-table was a severe
+headache. Her friends insisted on seeing her and ministering to her
+sufferings. Among other things, they tried to cheer her by telling her
+of Hawbury. Lady Dalrymple was full of him. She told all about his
+family, his income, his habits, and his mode of life. She mentioned,
+with much satisfaction, that he had made inquiries after Minnie, and
+that she had promised to introduce him to her the next time he called.
+Upon which he had laughingly insisted on calling the next day. All of
+which led Lady Dalrymple to conclude that he had seen Minnie somewhere,
+and had fallen in love with her.</p>
+
+<p>This was the pleasing strain of conversation into which the ladies
+were led off by Lady Dalrymple. When I say the ladies, I mean Lady
+Dalrymple and Minnie. Mrs. Willoughby said nothing, except once or twice
+when she endeavored to give a turn to the conversation, in which she was
+signally unsuccessful. Lady Dalrymple and Minnie engaged in an animated
+argument over the interesting subject of Hawbury's intentions, Minnie
+taking her stand on the ground of his indifference, the other
+maintaining the position that he was in love. Minnie declared that she
+had never seen him. Lady Dalrymple asserted her belief that he had seen
+her. The latter also asserted that Hawbury would no
+<span class = "pagenum">47</span>
+doubt be a constant visitor, and gave Minnie very sound advice as to the
+best mode of treating him.</p>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic047.png" width = "342" height = "455"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"THEN SHE FLUNG HERSELF UPON THE SOFA."</p>
+
+<p>On the following day Hawbury called, and was introduced to Minnie. He
+chatted with her in his usual style, and Lady Dalrymple was more than
+ever confirmed in her first belief. He suggested a ride, and the
+suggestion was taken up.</p>
+
+<p>If any thing had been needed to complete Ethel's despair it was this
+second visit and the project of a ride. Mrs. Willoughby was introduced
+to him; but he took little notice of her, treating her with a kind of
+reserve that was a little unusual with him. The reason of this was his
+strong sympathy with his friend, and his detestation of Mrs.
+Willoughby's former history. Mrs. Willoughby, however, had to ride with
+them when they went out, and thus she was thrown a little more into
+Hawbury's way.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel never made her appearance. The headaches which she avouched
+were not pretended. They were real, and accompanied with heartaches that
+were far more painful. Hawbury never saw her, nor did he ever hear her
+mentioned. In general he himself kept the conversation in motion; and as
+he never asked questions, they, of course, had no opportunity to answer.
+On the other hand, there was no occasion to volunteer any remarks about
+the number or the character of their party. When he talked it was
+usually with Lady Dalrymple and Minnie: and with these the conversation
+turned always upon glittering generalities, and the airy nothings of
+pleasant gossip. All this, then, will very easily account for the fact
+that Hawbury, though visiting there constantly, never once saw Ethel,
+never heard her name mentioned, and had not the faintest idea that she
+was so near. She, on the other hand, feeling now sure that he was
+utterly false and completely forgetful, proudly and calmly held aloof,
+and kept out of his way with the most jealous care, until at last she
+staid indoors altogether, for fear, if she went out, that she might meet
+him somewhere.
+<span class = "pagenum">47b</span>
+For such a meeting she did not feel sufficiently strong.</p>
+
+<p>Often she thought of quitting Naples and returning to England. Yet,
+after all, she found a strange comfort in being there. She was near him.
+She heard his voice every day, and saw his face. That was something. And
+it was better than absence.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie used always to come to her and pour forth long accounts of
+Lord Hawbury&mdash;how he looked, what he said, what he did, and what he
+proposed to do. Certainly there was not the faintest approach to
+love-making, or even sentiment, in Hawbury's attitude toward Minnie. His
+words were of the world of small-talk&mdash;a world where sentiment and
+love-making have but little place. Still there was the evident fact of
+his attentions, which were too frequent to be overlooked.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury rapidly became the most prominent subject of Minnie's
+conversation. She used to prattle away for hours about him. She alluded
+admiringly to his long whiskers. She thought them "lovely." She said
+that he was "awfully nice." She told Mrs. Willoughby that "he
+<span class = "pagenum">48</span>
+was nicer than any of them; and then, Kitty darling," she added, "it's
+so awfully good of him not to be coming and saving my life, and carrying
+me on his back down a mountain, like an ogre, and then pretending that
+he's my father, you know.</p>
+
+<p>"For you know, Kitty pet, I've always longed so awfully to see some
+really nice person, you know, who wouldn't go and save my life and
+bother me. Now he doesn't seem a bit like proposing. I do <i>hope</i> he
+won't. Don't you, Kitty dearest? It's so <i>much</i> nicer not to
+propose. It's so horrid when they go and propose. And then, you know,
+I've had so much of that sort of thing. So, Kitty, I think he's really
+the nicest person that I ever saw, and I really think I'm beginning to
+like him."</p>
+
+<p>Far different from these were the conversations which Mrs. Willoughby
+had with Ethel. She was perfectly familiar with Ethel's story. It had
+been confided to her long ago. She alone knew why it was that Ethel had
+walked untouched through crowds of admirers. The terrible story of her
+rescue was memorable to her for other reasons; and the one who had taken
+the prominent part in that rescue could not be without interest for
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no use, Kitty&mdash;no use in talking about it any more,"
+said Ethel one day, after Mrs. Willoughby had been urging her to show
+herself. "I can not. I will not. He has forgotten me utterly."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he has no idea that you are here. He has never seen
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he not been in Naples as long as we have? He must have seen me
+in the streets. He saw Minnie."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it likely that he would come to this house and slight
+you? If he had forgotten you he would not come here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, he would. He comes to see Minnie. He knows I am here, of
+course. He doesn't care one atom whether I make my appearance or not. He
+doesn't even give me a thought. It's so long since <i>that time</i> that
+he has forgotten even my existence. He has been all over the world since
+then, and has had a hundred adventures. I have been living quietly,
+cherishing the remembrance of that one thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel, is it not worth trying? Go down and try him."</p>
+
+<p>"I can not bear it. I can not look at him. I lose all self-command
+when he is near. I should make a fool of myself. He would look at me
+with a smile of pity. Could I endure that? No, Kitty; my weakness must
+never be known to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Ethel, how I wish you could try it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty, just think how utterly I am forgotten. Mark this now. He
+knows I was at <i>your</i> house. He must remember your name. He wrote
+to me there, and I answered him from there. He sees you now, and your
+name must be associated with mine in his memory of me, if he has any.
+Tell me now, Kitty, has he ever
+<span class = "pagenum">48b</span>
+mentioned me? has he ever asked you about me? has he ever made the
+remotest allusion to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Ethel spoke rapidly and impetuously, and as she spoke she raised
+herself from the sofa where she was reclining, and turned her large,
+earnest eyes full upon her friend with anxious and eager watchfulness.
+Mrs. Willoughby looked back at her with a face full of sadness, and
+mournfully shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Ethel, as she sank down again&mdash;"you see how true
+my impression is."</p>
+
+<p>"I must say," said Mrs. Willoughby, "that I thought of this before. I
+fully expected that he would make some inquiry after you. I was so
+confident in the noble character of the man, both from your story and
+the description of others, that I could not believe you were right. But
+you are right, my poor Ethel. I wish I could comfort you, but I can not.
+Indeed, my dear, not only has he not questioned me about you, but he
+evidently avoids me. It is not that he is engrossed with Minnie, for he
+is not so; but he certainly has some reason of his own for avoiding me.
+Whenever he speaks to me there is an evident effort on his part, and
+though perfectly courteous, his manner leaves a certain disagreeable
+impression. Yes, he certainly has some reason for avoiding me."</p>
+
+<p>"The reason is plain enough," murmured Ethel. "He wishes to prevent
+you from speaking about a painful subject, or at least a distasteful
+one. He keeps you off at a distance by an excess of formality. He will
+give you no opportunity whatever to introduce any mention of me. And now
+let me also ask you this&mdash;does he ever take any notice of any
+allusion that may be made to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't remember hearing any allusion to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's scarcely possible! You and Minnie must sometimes have
+alluded to 'Ethel.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now that you put it in that light, I do remember hearing
+Minnie allude to you on several occasions. Once she wondered why 'Ethel'
+did not ride. Again she remarked how 'Ethel' would enjoy a particular
+view."</p>
+
+<p>"And he heard it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there is not a shadow of a doubt left. He knows I am here. He
+has forgotten me so totally, and is so completely indifferent, that he
+comes here and pays attention to another who is in the very same house
+with me. It is hard. Oh, Kitty, is it not? Is it not bitter? How could I
+have thought this of <i>him</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>A high-hearted girl was Ethel, and a proud one; but at this final
+confirmation of her worst fears there burst from her a sharp cry, and
+she buried her face in her hands, and moaned and wept.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">49</span>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXII" id = "chapXII">
+CHAPTER XII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+GIRASOLE AGAIN.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">One</span> day Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie
+were out driving. Hawbury was riding by the carriage on the side next
+Minnie, when suddenly their attention was arrested by a gentleman on
+horseback who was approaching them at an easy pace, and staring hard at
+them. Minnie's hand suddenly grasped her sister's arm very tightly,
+while her color came and went rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what <i>shall</i> I do?" said Minnie, in a hasty whisper. "Can't
+we pretend not to see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, you little goose," was the reply. "How can you think of
+such rudeness?"</p>
+
+<p>By this time the gentleman had reached them, and Mrs. Willoughby
+stopped the carriage, and spoke to him in a tone of gracious suavity, in
+which there was a sufficient recognition of his claims upon her
+attention, mingled with a slight hauteur that was intended to act as a
+check upon his Italian demonstrativeness.</p>
+
+<p>For it was no other than the Count Girasole, and his eyes glowed with
+excitement and delight, and his hat was off and as far away from his
+head as possible, and a thousand emotions contended together for
+expression upon his swarthy and handsome countenance. As soon as he
+could speak he poured forth a torrent of exclamations with amazing
+volubility, in the midst of which his keen black eyes scrutinized very
+closely the faces of the ladies, and finally turned an interrogative
+glance upon Hawbury, who sat on his horse regarding the new-comer with a
+certain mild surprise not unmingled with superciliousness. Hawbury's
+chin was in the air, his eyes rested languidly upon the stranger, and
+his left hand toyed with his left whisker. He really meant no offense
+whatever. He knew absolutely nothing about the stranger, and had not the
+slightest intention of giving offense. It was simply a way he had. It
+was merely the normal attitude of the English swell before he is
+introduced. As it was, that first glance which Girasole threw at the
+English lord inspired him with the bitterest hate, which was destined to
+produce important results afterward.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby was too good-natured and too wise to slight the Count
+in any way. After introducing the two gentlemen she spoke a few more
+civil words, and then bowed him away. But Girasole did not at all take
+the hint. On the contrary, as the carriage started, he turned his horse
+and rode along with it on the side next Mrs. Willoughby. Hawbury
+elevated his eyebrows, and stared for an instant, and then went on
+talking with Minnie. And now Minnie showed much more animation than
+usual. She was much agitated and excited by this sudden appearance of
+one whom she hoped to have got rid of, and talked rapidly, and laughed
+nervously, and was so terrified at the idea that Girasole was near that
+she was afraid to look
+<span class = "pagenum">49b</span>
+at him, but directed all her attention to Hawbury. It was a slight, and
+Girasole showed that he felt it; but Minnie could not help it. After a
+time Girasole mastered his feelings, and began an animated conversation
+with Mrs. Willoughby in very broken English. Girasole's excitement at
+Minnie's slight made him somewhat incoherent, his idioms were Italian
+rather than English, and his pronunciation was very bad; he also had a
+fashion of using an Italian word when he did not know the right English
+one, and so the consequence was that Mrs. Willoughby understood not much
+more than one-quarter of his remarks.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby did not altogether enjoy this state of things, and so
+she determined to put an end to it by shortening her drive. She
+therefore watched for an opportunity to do this so as not to make it
+seem too marked, and finally reached a place which was suitable. Here
+the carriage was turned, when, just as it was half-way round, they
+noticed a horseman approaching. It was Scone Dacres, who had been
+following them all the time, and who had not expected that the carriage
+would turn. He was therefore taken completely by surprise, and was close
+to them before he could collect his thoughts so as to do any thing. To
+evade them was impossible, and so he rode on. As he approached, the
+ladies saw his face. It was a face that one would remember afterward.
+There was on it a profound sadness and dejection, while at the same time
+the prevailing expression was one of sternness. The ladies both bowed.
+Scone Dacres raised his hat, and disclosed his broad, massive brow. He
+did not look at Minnie. His gaze was fixed on Mrs. Willoughby. Her veil
+was down, and he seemed trying to read her face behind it. As he passed
+he threw a quick, vivid glance at Girasole. It was not a pleasant glance
+by any means, and was full of quick, fierce, and insolent
+scrutiny&mdash;a "Who-the-devil-are-you?" glance. It was for but an
+instant, however, and then he glanced at Mrs. Willoughby again, and then
+he had passed.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies soon reached their home, and at once retired to Mrs.
+Willoughby's room. There Minnie flung herself upon the sofa, and Mrs.
+Willoughby sat down, with a perplexed face.</p>
+
+<p>"What in the world <i>are</i> we to do?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know," said Minnie. "I <i>knew</i> it was
+going to be so. I said that he would find me again."</p>
+
+<p>"He is <i>so</i> annoying."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but, Kitty dear, we can't be rude to him, you know, for he
+saved my life. But it's horrid, and I really begin to feel quite
+desperate."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly will not let him see you. I have made up my mind to
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"And oh! how he <i>will</i> be coming and calling, and tease, tease,
+teasing. Oh dear! I do wonder what Lord Hawbury thought. He looked
+<i>so</i> amazed. And then&mdash;oh, Kitty dear,
+<span class = "pagenum">50</span>
+it was so awfully funny!&mdash;did you notice that other man?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby nodded her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you notice how awfully black he looked? He wouldn't look at me
+at all. <i>I</i> know why."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"He's awfully jealous. Oh, <i>I</i> know it. I saw it in his face. He
+was as black as a thunder-cloud. Oh dear! And it's all about me. Oh,
+Kitty darling, what <i>shall</i> I do? There will be something dreadful,
+I know. And how shocking to have it about me. And then the newspapers.
+They'll all have it. And the reporters. Oh dear! Kitty, why <i>don't</i>
+you say something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Minnie dearest, I really don't know what to say."</p>
+
+<p>"But, darling, you must say something. And then that Scone Dacres.
+I'm more afraid of him than any body. Oh, I know he's going to
+<i>kill</i> some one. He is so big. Oh, if <i>you</i> had only been on
+his back, Kitty darling, and had him run down a steep mountain-side,
+you'd be as awfully afraid of him as I am. Oh, how I <i>wish</i> Lord
+Hawbury would drive them off, or somebody do something to save me."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you rather that Lord Hawbury would stay, or would you like him
+to go too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! I don't care. If he would only go quietly and nicely, I
+should like to have him go too, and never, never see a man again except
+dear papa. And I think it's a shame. And I don't see why I should be so
+persecuted. And I'm tired of staying here. And I don't want to stay here
+any more. And, Kitty darling, why shouldn't we all go to Rome?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Rome?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you prefer Rome?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes&mdash;for several reasons. In the first place, I must go
+somewhere, and I'd rather go there than any where else. Then, you know,
+that dear, delightful holy-week will soon be here, and I'm dying to be
+in Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be better for all of us," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+thoughtfully&mdash;"for all of us, if we were in Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it would, Kitty sweetest, and especially me. Now if I am
+in Rome, I can pop into a convent whenever I choose."</p>
+
+<p>"A convent!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes&mdash;it's going to come to that. They're all so horrid, you
+know. Besides, it's getting worse. I got a letter yesterday from Captain
+Kirby, written to me in England. He didn't know I was here. He has just
+arrived at London, and was leaving for our place on what he called the
+wings of the wind. I expect him here at almost any time. Isn't it
+dreadful, Kitty dearest, to have so many? As fast as one goes another
+comes, and then they all come together; and do you know, darling, it
+really makes one feel quite dizzy. I'm sure <i>I</i> don't
+<span class = "pagenum">50b</span>
+know what to do. And that's why I'm thinking of a convent, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"But you're not a Catholic."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I am, you know. Papa's an Anglo-Catholic, and I don't see
+the difference. Besides, they're all the time going over to Rome; and
+why shouldn't I? I'll be a novice&mdash;that is, you know, I'll only go
+for a time, and not take the vows. The more I think of it, the more I
+see that it's the only thing there is for me to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Minnie, I really think so too, and not only for you, but for
+all of us. There's Ethel, too; poor dear girl, her health is very
+miserable, you know. I think a change would do her good."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it would; I've been talking to her about it. But she won't
+hear of leaving Naples. I <i>wish</i> she wouldn't be so awfully
+sad."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; it will certainly be the best thing for dear Ethel, and for
+you and me and all of us. Then we must be in Rome in holy-week. I
+wouldn't miss that for any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"And then, too, you know, Kitty darling, there's another thing," said
+Minnie, very confidentially, "and it's very important. In Rome, you
+know, all the gentlemen are clergymen&mdash;only, you know, the
+clergymen of the Roman Church can't marry; and so, you know, of course,
+they can never propose, no matter if they were to save one's life over
+and over again. And oh! what a relief that would be to find one's self
+among those dear, darling, delightful priests, and no chance of having
+one's life saved and having an instant proposal following! It would be
+<i>so</i> charming."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Minnie dearest," said she, "I really think that we had better
+decide to go to Rome, and I don't see any difficulty in the way."</p>
+
+<p>"The only difficulty that I can see," said Minnie, "is that I
+shouldn't like to hurt their feelings, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Their feelings!" repeated her sister, in a doleful voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but then, you see, some one's feelings <i>must</i> be hurt
+eventually, so that lessens one's responsibility, you know; doesn't it,
+Kitty darling?"</p>
+
+<p>While saying this Minnie had risen and gone to the window, with the
+intention of taking her seat by it. No sooner had she reached the place,
+however, than she started back, with a low exclamation, and, standing on
+one side, looked cautiously forth.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here," she said, in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby went over, and Minnie directed her attention to some
+one outside. It was a gentleman on horseback, who was passing at a slow
+pace. His head was bent on his breast. Suddenly, as he passed, he raised
+his head and threw over the house a quick, searching glance. They could
+see without being seen. They marked the profound sadness that was over
+his face, and saw the deep disappointment with which his head fell.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">51</span>
+
+<p>"Scone Dacres!" said Minnie, as he passed on. "How <i>aw</i>fully sad
+he is!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"But, after all, I don't believe it's <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he didn't look at me a bit when he passed to-day. He looked
+at you, though."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and his face had an <i>aw</i>fully hungry look. I know what
+makes him sad."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's in love with you."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby stared at Minnie for a moment. Then a short laugh
+burst from her.</p>
+
+<p>"Child!" she exclaimed, "you have no idea of any thing in the world
+but falling in love. You will find out some day that there are other
+feelings than that."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Kitty dear," said Minnie, "didn't you notice something very
+peculiar about him?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"I noticed it. I had a good look at him. I saw that he fixed his eyes
+on you with&mdash;oh! <i>such</i> a queer look. And he was awfully sad
+too. He looked as if he would like to seize you and lift you on his
+horse and carry you off, just like young Lochinvar."</p>
+
+<p>"Me!" said Mrs. Willoughby, with a strange intonation.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you&mdash;oh yes; really now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you little goose, you always think of people rushing after one
+and carrying one off."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure I've had reason to. So many people have always been
+running after me, and snatching me up as if I were a parcel, and
+carrying me every where in all sorts of places. And I think it's too
+bad, and I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear<ins class =
+"correction" title = "close quote missing">&mdash;"</ins></p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"About this Scone Dacres. Don't you really think there's something
+very peculiarly sad, and very delightfully interesting and pathetic, and
+all that sort of thing, in his poor dear old face?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think Scone Dacres has suffered a great deal," said Mrs.
+Willoughby, in a thoughtful tone. "But come now. Let us go to Ethel.
+She's lonely."</p>
+
+<p>Soon after they joined the other ladies, and talked over the project
+of going to Rome. Lady Dalrymple offered no objection; indeed, so far as
+she had any choice, she preferred it. She was quite willing at all times
+to do whatever the rest proposed, and also was not without some
+curiosity as to the proceedings during holy-week. Ethel offered no
+objections either. She had fallen into a state of profound melancholy,
+from which nothing now could rouse her, and so she listened listlessly
+to the discussion about the subject. Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie had the
+most to say on this point, and offered the chief reasons for going; and
+thus it was finally decided to take their departure, and to start as
+soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Girasole had his own thoughts and experiences. He had
+already, some time before,
+<span class = "pagenum">51b</span>
+been conscious that his attentions were not wanted, but it was only on
+the part of the other ladies that he noticed any repugnance to himself.
+On Minnie's part he had not seen any. In spite of their graciousness and
+their desire not to hurt his feelings, they had not been able to avoid
+showing that, while they felt grateful for his heroism in the rescue of
+Minnie, they could not think of giving her to him. They had
+man&oelig;uvred well enough to get rid of him, but Girasole had also
+man&oelig;uvred on his part to find them again. He had fallen off from
+them at first when he saw that they were determined on effecting this;
+but after allowing a sufficient time to elapse, he had no difficulty in
+tracking them, and finding them at Naples, as we have seen.</p>
+
+<p>But here he made one or two discoveries.</p>
+
+<p>One was that Minnie already had an accepted lover in the person of
+Lord Hawbury. The lofty superciliousness of the British nobleman seemed
+to Girasole to be the natural result of his position, and it seemed the
+attitude of the successful lover toward the rejected suitor.</p>
+
+<p>The other discovery was that Minnie herself was more pleased with the
+attentions of the English lord than with his own. This was now evident,
+and he could not help perceiving that his difficulties were far more
+formidable from the presence of such a rival.</p>
+
+<p>But Girasole was not easily daunted. In the first place, he had
+unbounded confidence in his own fascinations; in the second place, he
+believed that he had a claim on Minnie that no other could equal, in the
+fact that he had saved her life; in the third place, apart from the
+question of love, he believed her to be a prize of no common value,
+whose English gold would be welcome indeed to his Italian need and
+greed; while, finally, the bitter hate with which Lord Hawbury had
+inspired him gave an additional zest to the pursuit, and made him follow
+after Minnie with fresh ardor.</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice after this he called upon them. On the first occasion
+only Lady Dalrymple was visible. On the second, none of the ladies were
+at home. He was baffled, but not discouraged. Returning from his call,
+he met Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby. Hawbury was with them, riding beside
+Minnie. The ladies bowed, and Girasole, as before, coolly turned his
+horse and rode by the carriage, talking with Mrs. Willoughby, and trying
+to throw at Minnie what he intended to be impassioned glances. But
+Minnie would not look at him. Of course she was frightened as usual, and
+grew excited, and, as before, talked with unusual animation to Hawbury.
+Thus she overdid it altogether, and more than ever confirmed Girasole in
+the opinion that she and Hawbury were affianced.</p>
+
+<p>Two days after this Girasole called again.</p>
+
+<p>A bitter disappointment was in store for him.</p>
+
+<p>They were not there&mdash;they had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Eagerly he inquired where.</p>
+
+<p>"To Rome," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"To Rome!" he muttered, between his set
+<span class = "pagenum">52</span>
+teeth; and mounting his horse hurriedly, he rode away.</p>
+
+<p>He was not one to be daunted. He had set a certain task before
+himself, and could not easily be turned aside. He thought bitterly of
+the ingratitude with which he had been treated. He brought before his
+mind the "stony British stare," the supercilious smile, and the
+impertinent and insulting expression of Hawbury's face as he sat on his
+saddle, with his chin up, stroking his whiskers, and surveyed him for
+the first time. All these things combined to stimulate the hate as well
+as the love of Girasole. He felt that he himself was not one who could
+be lightly dismissed, and determined that they should learn this.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic052.png" width = "212" height = "326"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"'TO ROME!' HE MUTTERED, BETWEEN HIS SET TEETH."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXIII" id = "chapXIII">
+CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+VAIN REMONSTRANCES.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Hawbury</span> had immolated himself for as
+much as half a dozen times to gratify Dacres. He had sacrificed himself
+over and over upon the altar of friendship, and had allowed himself to
+be bored to death because Dacres so wished it. The whole number of his
+calls was in reality only about five or six; but that number, to one of
+his taste and temperament, seemed positively enormous, and represented
+an immense amount of human suffering.</p>
+
+<p>One day, upon reaching his quarters, after one of these calls, he
+found Dacres there, making himself, as usual, very much at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear fellow," said Hawbury,
+<span class = "pagenum">52b</span>
+cheerfully, "how waves the flag now? Are you hauling it down, or are you
+standing to your guns? Toss over the cigars, and give an account of
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know any thing about law, Hawbury?" was Dacres's answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Law?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not much. But what in the world makes you ask such a question as
+that? Law! No&mdash;not I."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's a point that I should like to ask somebody about."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not get a lawyer?"</p>
+
+<p>"An Italian lawyer's no use."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, English lawyers are to be found. I dare say there are twenty
+within five minutes' distance of this place."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't want to bother. I only wanted to ask some one's opinion
+in a general way."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's the point?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why this," said Dacres, after a little hesitation. "You've heard of
+outlawry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Should think I had&mdash;Robin Hood and his merry men, Lincoln
+green, Sherwood Forest, and all that sort of thing, you know. But what
+the mischief sets you thinking about Robin Hood?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't mean that rot. I mean real outlawry&mdash;when a
+fellow's in debt, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well; if he goes out of the country, and stays away a certain number
+of years, the debt's outlawed, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce it is! Is it, though? <i>I've</i> been in debt, but I
+always managed to pull through without getting so far. But that's
+convenient for some fellows too."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a little muddy about it, but I've heard something to this
+effect. I think the time is seven years. If the debt is not acknowledged
+during the interval, it's outlawed. And now, 'pon my life, my dear
+fellow, I really don't know but that I've jumbled up some fragments of
+English law with American. I felt that I was muddy, and so I thought I'd
+ask you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know any more about it than about the antediluvians."</p>
+
+<p>"It's an important point, and I should like to have it looked
+up."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, get a lawyer here; half London is on the Continent. But still,
+my dear fellow, I don't see what you're driving at. You're not in
+debt?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;this isn't debt; but it struck me that this might possibly
+apply to other kinds of contracts."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"How&mdash;such as what, for instance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, I thought, you know, that all contracts might be
+included under it; and so I thought that if seven years or so annulled
+all contracts, it might have some effect, you know,
+upon&mdash;the&mdash;the&mdash;the marriage contract, you know."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">53</span>
+
+<p>At this Hawbury started up, stared at Dacres, gave a loud whistle,
+and then exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"I may be mistaken," said Dacres, modestly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mistaken? Why, old chap, you're mad. Marriage? Good Lord! don't you
+know nothing can abrogate that? Of course, in case of crime, one can get
+a divorce; but there is no other way. Seven years? By Jove! A good idea
+that. Why, man, if that were so, the kingdom would be depopulated.
+Husbands running off from wives, and wives from husbands, to pass the
+required seven years abroad. By Jove! You see, too, there's another
+thing, my boy. Marriage is a sacrament, and you've not only got to untie
+the civil knot, but the clerical one, my boy. No, no; there's no help
+for it. You gave your word, old chap, 'till death do us part,' and
+you're in for it."</p>
+
+<p>At this Dacres said nothing; it appeared to dispel his project from
+his mind. He relapsed into a sullen sort of gloom, and remained so for
+some time. At last he spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you found out who that fellow is?"</p>
+
+<p>"What fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why that yellow Italian that goes prowling around after my
+wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; I heard something or other today."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it seems that he saved her life, or something of that
+sort."</p>
+
+<p>"Saved her life!" Dacres started. "How? where? Cool, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, on the Alps somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"On the Alps! saved her life! Come now, I like that," said Dacres,
+with bitter intonation.<ins class = "correction" title = "open quote missing"> "</ins>Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you she contrived all
+that. Oh, she's deep! But how did it happen? Did you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I didn't hear any thing very definite. It was something about
+a precipice. It was Lady Dalrymple that told me. It seems she was
+knocked over a precipice by an avalanche."</p>
+
+<p>"Was what? Knocked where? Over a precipice? By a what&mdash;an
+avalanche? Good Lord! I don't believe it. I swear I don't. She invented
+it all. It's some of her infernal humbug. She slid off over the snow, so
+as to get him to go after her. Oh, don't I know her and her ways!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, come now, old man, you shouldn't be too hard on her. You never
+said that flirtation was one of her faults."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, neither it was; but, as she is a demon, she's capable of any
+thing; and now she has sobered down, and all her vices have taken this
+turn. Oh yes. I know her. No more storms now&mdash;no rage, no
+fury&mdash;all quiet and sly. Flirtation! Ha, ha! That's the word. And
+my wife! And going about the country, tumbling over precipices, with
+devilish handsome Italians going down to save her life! Ha, ha, ha! I
+like that!"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">53b</span>
+
+<p>"See here, old boy, I swear you're too suspicious. Come now. You're
+going too far. If she chooses, she may trump up the same charge against
+you and the child-angel at Vesuvius. Come now, old boy, be just. You can
+afford to. Your wife may be a fiend in human form; and if you insist
+upon it, I've nothing to say. But this last notion of yours is nothing
+but the most wretched absurdity. It's worse. It's lunacy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said Dacres, in a milder tone; "perhaps she didn't
+contrive it. But then, you know," he added, "it's just as good for her.
+She gets the Italian. Ha, ha, ha!"</p>
+
+<p>His laugh was forced, feverish, and unnatural. Hawbury didn't like
+it, and tried to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by-the-way," said he, "you needn't have any further trouble
+about any of them. You don't seem inclined to take any definite action,
+so the action will be taken for you."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that they are all going to leave Naples."</p>
+
+<p>"To leave Naples!"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres uttered this in a voice of grief and surprise which astonished
+Hawbury and touched him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said. "You know they've been here long enough. They want to
+see Rome. Holy-week, you know. No end of excitement. Illumination of St.
+Peter's, and all that sort of thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres relapsed into sombre silence. For more than half an hour he
+did not say a word. Hawbury respected his mood, and watched him with
+something approaching to anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury," said he at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;to Rome!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, me, to Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense! See here, old boy. You'd really better not, you know.
+Break it up. You can't do any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to Rome," repeated Dacres, stolidly. "I've made up my
+mind."</p>
+
+<p>"But, really," remonstrated Hawbury. "See here now, my dear fellow;
+look here, you know. By Jove! you don't consider, really."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I do. I know every thing; I consider every thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But what good will it do?"</p>
+
+<p>"It won't do any good; but it may prevent some evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing but evil can ever come of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no evil need necessarily come of it."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury, who began to be excited. "Really, my
+dear fellow, you don't think. You see you can't gain any thing. She's
+surrounded by friends, you know. She never can be yours, you know.
+There's a great gulf between you, and all that sort of thing, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," repeated Dacres, catching his last words&mdash;"yes, a great
+gulf, as deep as the bottomless
+<span class = "pagenum">54</span>
+abyss, never to be traversed, where she stands on one side, and I on the
+other, and between us hate, deep and pitiless hate, undying,
+eternal!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then, by Jove! my dear fellow, what's the use of trying to fight
+against it? You can't do any thing. If this were Indiana, now, or even
+New York, I wouldn't say any thing, you know; but you know an Indiana
+divorce wouldn't do <i>you</i> any good. Her friends wouldn't take you
+on those terms&mdash;and she wouldn't. Not she, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>must</i> go. I must follow her," continued Dacres. "The sight
+of her has roused a devil within me that I thought was laid. I'm a
+changed man, Hawbury."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"A changed man," continued Dacres. "Oh, Heavens, what power there is
+in a face! What terrific influence it has over a man! Here am I; a few
+days ago I was a free man; now I am a slave. But, by Heaven! I'll follow
+her to the world's end. She shall not shake me off. She thinks to be
+happy without me. She shall not. I will silently follow as an avenging
+fate. I can not have her, and no one else shall. The same cursed fate
+that severs her from me shall keep her away from others. If I am lonely
+and an exile, she shall not be as happy as she expects. I shall not be
+the only one to suffer."</p>
+
+<p>"See here, by Jove!" cried Hawbury. "Really. You're going too far, my
+dear boy, you know. You are, really. Come now. This is just like a
+Surrey theatre, you know. You're really raving. Why, my poor old boy,
+you <i>must</i> give her up. You can't do any thing. You daren't call on
+her. You're tied hand and foot. You may worship her here, and rave about
+your child-angel till you're black in the face, but you never can see
+her; and as to all this about stopping her from marrying any other
+person, that's all rot and bosh. What do you suppose any other man would
+care for your nonsensical ravings? Lonely and an exile! Why, man, she'll
+be married and done for in three months."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand me," said Dacres, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad that I don't; but it's no wonder, old man, for really you
+were quite incoherent."</p>
+
+<p>"And so they're going to Rome," said Dacres. "Well, they'll find that
+I'm not to be shaken off so easily."</p>
+
+<p>"Come now, old man, you <i>must</i> give up that."</p>
+
+<p>"And I suppose," continued Dacres, with a sneer, "our handsome,
+dark-eyed little Italian cavalier is going with us. Ha, ha, ha! He's at
+the house all the time, no doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes; he was there once."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! of course&mdash;quite devoted."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; but don't be afraid. It was not to the child-angel. She
+appears to avoid him. That's really quite evident. It's an apparent
+aversion on her part."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">54b</span>
+
+<p>Dacres drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said he; "and so I suppose it's not <i>her</i> that <i>he</i>
+goes after. I did not suppose that it was. Oh no. There's another
+one&mdash;more piquant, you know&mdash;ha, ha!&mdash;a devoted
+lover&mdash;saved her life&mdash;quite devoted&mdash;and she sits and
+accepts his attentions. Yet she's seen me, and knows that I'm watching
+her. Don't she know <i>me</i>? Does she want any further proof of what I
+am ready to do? The ruins of Dacres Grange should serve her for life.
+She tempts fate when she carries on her gallantries and her Italian
+cicisbeism under the eyes of Scone Dacres. It'll end bad. By Heaven, it
+will!"</p>
+
+<p>Scone Dacres breathed hard, and, raising his head, turned upon
+Hawbury a pair of eyes whose glow seemed of fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Bad!" he repeated, crashing his fist on the table. "Bad, by
+Heaven!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury looked at him earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy," said he, "you're getting too excited. Be cool. Really,
+I don't believe you know what you're saying. I don't understand what you
+mean. Haven't the faintest idea what you're driving at. You're making
+ferocious threats against some people, but, for my life, I don't know
+who they are. Hadn't you better try to speak so that a fellow can
+understand the general drift, at least, of what you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, you understand this much&mdash;I'm going to Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry for it, old boy."</p>
+
+<p>"And see here, Hawbury, I want you to come with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Me? What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I want you. I may have need of you."</p>
+
+<p>As Dacres said this his face assumed so dark and gloomy an expression
+that Hawbury began to think that there was something serious in all this
+menace.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my life," said he, "my dear boy, I really don't think you're in
+a fit state to be allowed to go by yourself. You look quite desperate. I
+wish I could make you give up this infernal Roman notion."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to Rome!" repeated Dacres, resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come, Hawbury, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, confound it all, of course. I'm afraid you'll do something
+rash, old man, and you'll have to have me to stand between you and
+harm."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't be concerned about me," said Dacres. "I only want to watch
+her, and see what her little game is. I want to look at her in the midst
+of her happiness. She's most infernally beautiful, too; hasn't added a
+year or a day to her face; more lovely than ever; more beautiful than
+she was even when I first saw her. And there's a softness about her that
+she never had before. Where the deuce did she get that? Good idea of
+hers, too, to cultivate the
+<span class = "pagenum">55</span>
+soft style. And there's sadness in her face, too. Can it be real? By
+Heavens! if I thought it could be real I'd&mdash;but pooh! what
+insanity! It's her art. There never was such cunning. She cultivates the
+soft, sad style so as to attract lovers&mdash;lovers&mdash;who adore
+her&mdash;who save her life&mdash;who become her obedient slaves! Oh
+yes; and I&mdash;what am I? Why they get together and laugh at me; they
+giggle; they snicker&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Confound it all, man, what are you going on at that rate for?"
+interrupted Hawbury. "Are you taking leave of your senses altogether? By
+Jove, old man, you'd better give up this Roman journey."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'll keep at it."</p>
+
+<p>"What for? Confound it! I don't see your object."</p>
+
+<p>"My object? Why, I mean to follow her. I can't give her up. I won't
+give her up. I'll follow her. She shall see me every where. I'll follow
+her. She sha'n't go any where without seeing me on her track. She shall
+see that she is mine. She shall know that she's got a master. She shall
+find herself cut off from that butterfly life which she hopes to enter.
+I'll be her fate, and she shall know it."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "What the deuce is all this about? Are you
+mad, or what? Look here, old boy, you're utterly beyond me, you know.
+What the mischief do you mean? Whom are you going to follow? Whose fate
+are you going to be? Whose track are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" cried Dacres. "Why, my wife!"</p>
+
+<p>As he said this he struck his fist violently on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce!" exclaimed Hawbury, staring at him; after which he added,
+thoughtfully, "by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Not much more was said. Dacres sat in silence for a long time,
+breathing hard, and puffing violently at his cigar. Hawbury said nothing
+to interrupt his meditation. After an hour or so Dacres tramped off in
+silence, and Hawbury was left to meditate over the situation.</p>
+
+<p>And this was the result of his meditations.</p>
+
+<p>He saw that Dacres was greatly excited, and had changed completely
+from his old self. His state of mind seemed actually dangerous. There
+was an evil gleam in his eyes that looked like madness. What made it
+more perplexing still was the new revulsion of feeling that now was
+manifest. It was not so much love for the child-angel as bitter and
+venomous hate for his wife. The gentler feeling had given place to the
+sterner one. It might have been possible to attempt an argument against
+the indulgence of the former; but what could words avail against
+revenge? And now there was rising in the soul of Dacres an evident
+thirst for vengeance, the result of those injuries which had been
+carried in his heart and brooded over for years. The sight of his wife
+had evidently kindled all this. If she had not come across his path he
+might have
+<span class = "pagenum">55b</span>
+forgotten all; but she had come, and all was revived. She had come, too,
+in a shape which was adapted in the highest degree to stimulate all the
+passion of Dacres's soul&mdash;young, beautiful, fascinating, elegant,
+refined, rich, honored, courted, and happy. Upon such a being as this
+the homeless wanderer, the outcast, looked, and his soul seemed turned
+to fire as he gazed. Was it any wonder?</p>
+
+<p>All this Hawbury thought, and with full sympathy for his injured
+friend. He saw also that Dacres could not be trusted by himself. Some
+catastrophe would be sure to occur. He determined, therefore, to
+accompany his friend, so as to do what he could to avert the calamity
+which he dreaded.</p>
+
+<p>And this was the reason why he went with Dacres to Rome.</p>
+
+<p>As for Dacres, he seemed to be animated by but one motive, which he
+expressed over and over again:</p>
+
+<p>"She stood between me and my child-angel, and so will I stand between
+her and her Italian!"</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXIV" id = "chapXIV">
+CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE ZOUAVE OFFICER.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Whatever</span> trouble Ethel had
+experienced at Naples from her conviction that Hawbury was false was
+increased and, if possible, intensified by the discovery that he had
+followed them to Rome. His true motives for this could not possibly be
+known to her, so she, of course, concluded that it was his infatuation
+for Minnie, and his determination to win her for himself. She felt
+confident that he knew that she belonged to the party, but was so
+utterly indifferent to her that he completely ignored her, and had not
+sufficient interest in her to ask the commonest question about her. All
+this, of course, only confirmed her previous opinion, and it also
+deepened her melancholy. One additional effect it also had, and that was
+to deprive her of any pleasure that might be had from drives about Rome.
+She felt a morbid dread of meeting him somewhere; she did not yet feel
+able to encounter him; she could not trust herself; she felt sure that
+if she saw him she would lose all self-control, and make an exhibition
+of humiliating weakness. The dread of this was sufficient to detain her
+at home; and so she remained indoors, a prisoner, refusing her liberty,
+brooding over her troubles, and striving to acquire that indifference to
+him which she believed he had toward her. Now going about was the very
+thing which would have alleviated her woes, but this was the very thing
+that she was unwilling to do; nor could any persuasion shake her
+resolve.</p>
+
+<p>One day Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie were out driving, and in passing
+through a street they encountered a crowd in front of one of the
+churches. Another crowd was inside, and, as something was going on, they
+stopped the carriage and sat looking. The Swiss Guards were
+<span class = "pagenum">56</span>
+there in their picturesque costume, and the cardinals in their scarlet
+robes and scarlet coaches, and military officers of high rank, and
+carriages of the Roman aristocracy filled with beautiful ladies.
+Something of importance was going on, the nature of which they did not
+know. A little knot of Englishmen stood near; and from their remarks the
+ladies gathered that this was the Church of the Jesuits, and that the
+Pope in person was going to perform high-mass, and afterward hold a
+reception.</p>
+
+<p>Soon there arose a murmur and a bustle among the crowd, which was
+succeeded by a deep stillness. The Swiss Guards drove the throng to
+either side, and a passage-way was thus formed through the people to the
+church. A carriage drove up in great state. In this was seated an
+elderly gentleman in rich pontifical robes. He had a mild and gentle
+face, upon which was a sweet and winning smile. No face is more
+attractive than that of Pio Nono.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, look!" cried Minnie; "that must be the Pope. Oh, what a
+darling!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby, however, was looking elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"What, Kitty dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you acquainted with any Zouave officer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Zouave officer! Why, no; what put such a thing as that into your
+head, you old silly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because there's a Zouave officer over there in the crowd who has
+been staring fixedly at us ever since we came up, and trying to make
+signals, and it's my opinion he's signaling to you. Look at him; he's
+over there on the top of the steps."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't look," said Minnie, pettishly. "How do I know who he is? I
+declare I'm afraid to look at any body. He'll be coming and saving my
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure this man is an old acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! how can he be?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be Captain Kirby."</p>
+
+<p>"How silly! Why, Captain Kirby is in the Rifles."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he is dressed this way just for amusement. Look at him."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, I think you're unkind. You <i>know</i> I don't want to
+look at him; I don't want to see him. I don't care who he is&mdash;the
+great, big, ugly, old horrid! And if you say any thing more, I'll go
+home."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby was about to say something, but her attention and
+Minnie's, and that of every one else, was suddenly diverted to another
+quarter.</p>
+
+<p>Among the crowd they had noticed a tall man, very thin, with a lean,
+cadaverous face, and long, lanky, rusty black hair. He wore a white
+neck-tie, and a suit of rusty black clothes. He also held a large
+umbrella in his hand, which he kept carefully up out of the way of the
+crowd. This figure was a conspicuous one, even in that crowd, and the
+ladies had noticed it at the very first.</p>
+
+<p>As the Pope drove up they saw this long,
+<span class = "pagenum">56b</span>
+slim, thin, cadaverous man, in his suit of rusty black, edging his way
+through the crowd, so as to get nearer, until at length he stood
+immediately behind the line of Swiss Guards, who were keeping the crowd
+back, and forming a passageway for the Pope. Meanwhile his Holiness was
+advancing through the crowd. He reached out his hand, and smiled and
+bowed and murmured a blessing over them. At last his carriage stopped.
+The door was opened, and several attendants prepared to receive the Pope
+and assist him out.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant the tall, slim stranger pushed forward his sallow
+head, with its long, lanky, and rusty black hair, between two Swiss
+Guards, and tried to squeeze between them. The Swiss at first stood
+motionless, and the stranger had actually succeeded in getting about
+half-way through. He was immediately in front of his Holiness, and
+staring at him with all his might. His Holiness saw this very peculiar
+face, and was so surprised that he uttered an involuntary exclamation,
+and stopped short in his descent.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger stopped short too, and quite involuntarily also. For the
+Swiss Guards, irritated by his pertinacity, and seeing the Pope's
+gesture, turned suddenly, and two of them grasped the stranger by his
+coat collar.</p>
+
+<p>It was, of course, an extremely undignified attitude for the Swiss
+Guards, whose position is simply an ornamental one. Nothing but the most
+unparalleled outrage to their dignity could have moved them to this. So
+unusual a display of energy, however, did not last long. A few persons
+in citizens' clothes darted forward from among the crowd, and secured
+the stranger; while the Swiss, seeing who they were, resumed their
+erect, rigid, and ornamental attitude. The Pope found no longer any
+obstacle, and resumed his descent. For a moment the stranger had created
+a wide-spread consternation in the breasts of all the different and very
+numerous classes of men who composed that crowd. The arrest was the
+signal for a murmur of voices, among which the ladies heard those of the
+knot of Englishmen who stood near.</p>
+
+<p>"It's some Garibaldian," said they.</p>
+
+<p>And this was the general sentiment.</p>
+
+<p>Several hours after this they were at home, and a caller was
+announced. It was the Baron Atramonte.</p>
+
+<p>"Atramonte!" said Lady Dalrymple. "Who is that? We're not at home, of
+course. Atramonte! Some of these Italian nobles. Really, I think we have
+seen enough of them. Who is he, Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea. I never heard of him in my
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"We're not at home, of course. It's a singular way, and surely can
+not be Roman fashion. It's not civilized fashion. But the Continental
+nobility are <i>so</i> odd."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the servant, who had been dispatched to say, "Not at
+home," returned with the statement that the Baron wished particularly to
+see Miss Fay on urgent business.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">57</span>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic057.png" width = "452" height = "342"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"TWO OF THEM GRASPED THE STRANGER BY HIS COAT COLLAR."</p>
+
+<p>At this extraordinary message Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby
+looked first at one another, and then at Minnie, in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know any thing about him," said Minnie.
+"They <i>always</i> tease me so. Oh, do go and see who he is, and send
+him away&mdash;please! Oh, do, please, Dowdy dear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose I had better see the person," said Lady Dalrymple,
+good-naturedly. "There must be some mistake. How is he dressed?" she
+asked the servant. "Is he a military gentleman? Most of them seem to
+belong to the army."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lady. Zouave dress, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>At this Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie looked at one another. Lady
+Dalrymple went away; and as no other was present, Ethel being, as usual,
+in her room, Mrs. Willoughby sighed and said,</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that man must know you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure I don't know him," said Minnie. "I never knew a
+Zouave officer in my life."</p>
+
+<p>"It may be Captain Kirby, under an assumed name and a disguise."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, it isn't. I don't believe he would be such a
+perfect&mdash;monster. Oh dear! It's somebody, though. It must be. And
+he wants me. Oh, what <i>shall</i> I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! You need not go. Aunty will see him, and send him
+off."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I do so hope he'll go; but I'm afraid he won't."</p>
+
+<p>After a short time Lady Dalrymple returned.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">57b</span>
+
+<p>"Really," said she, "this is a most extraordinary person. He speaks
+English, but not at all like an Englishman. I don't know who he is. He
+calls himself a Baron, but he doesn't seem to be a foreigner. I'm
+puzzled."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope he's gone," said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;that's the worst of it. He won't go. He says he must see
+Minnie, and he won't tell his errand. I told him that he could not see
+you, but that I would tell you what he wanted, and that you were not at
+home. And what do you think he said?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know, Dowdy dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he said he had nothing to do, and would wait till you came
+back. And he took his seat in a way that showed that he meant to wait.
+Really, I'm quite at a loss what to do. You'll have to see him, Kitty
+dear."</p>
+
+<p>"What a strange person!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "It's <i>so</i> rude.
+And don't you know what he is? How do you know he isn't an Italian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, his English, you know. He speaks it perfectly, but not like an
+Englishman, you know, nor like a Scotchman either, or an Irishman. I
+wonder whether he may not be an American?"</p>
+
+<p>At this Minnie started.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"An American! Oh dear! what <i>will</i> become of me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said Lady Dalrymple, "do you know him, then, after all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm <i>so</i> afraid that I know him!"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">58</span>
+
+<p>"Who is it, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dowdy! Oh, Kitty!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"It must be that man. Oh, was there <i>ever</i> such a
+trouble&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Minnie dearest, you are allowing yourself to get too
+agitated. Who <i>is</i> this person?"</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;he's&mdash;an&mdash;American."</p>
+
+<p>"An American? Why, I just said that I thought he might be one. I
+didn't know that you were acquainted with any."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; I did get acquainted with some in&mdash;in Canada."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh; and is this man a Canadian?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Dowdy darling; only an American."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if he's a friend of yours, I suppose you know something about
+him. But how singular it is that you have so completely forgotten his
+name. Atramonte? Why, I'm sure it's a <i>very</i> singular name for an
+American gentleman&mdash;at least it seems so to me&mdash;but I don't
+know much about them, you know. Tell me, darling, who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;he saved my life."</p>
+
+<p>"What! saved your life? Why, my precious child, what <i>are</i> you
+talking about? It was the Italian that saved your life, you know, not
+this one."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but he did too," said Minnie, despairingly. "I couldn't help it.
+He would do it. Papa was washed away. I wish they all wouldn't be so
+horrid."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple looked in an equally despairing manner at Mrs.
+Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Kitty dear? <i>Is</i> the child insane, or what does she
+mean? How could this person have saved her life?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what distracts me," said Minnie. "They all do it. Every
+single person comes and saves my life. And now I suppose I must go down
+and see this person."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, since you say he saved your life, perhaps it would be
+as well not to be uncivil," said Lady Dalrymple; "but, at the same time,
+he seems to me to act in a very extraordinary manner. And he calls
+himself a Baron. Do they have nobles in America?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know, Dowdy dear. I never knew that he was a Baron.
+He may have been the son of some American Baron; and&mdash;and&mdash;I'm
+sure I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Minnie dear," said Mrs. Willoughby. "This man's title is a
+foreign one. He probably obtained it in Italy or Spain, or perhaps
+Mexico. I think they have titles in Mexico, though I really don't
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course, one isn't expected to know any thing about America,"
+said Lady Dalrymple. "I can mention quite a number of English statesmen,
+members of the cabinet, and others, who don't know any more about
+America than I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really intend to go down yourself and see him, Minnie dear?"
+asked Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">58b</span>
+
+<p>"How can I help it? What am I to do? I must go, Kitty darling. He is
+so very positive, and&mdash;and he insists so. I don't want to hurt his
+feelings, you know; and I really think there is nothing for me to do but
+to go. What do you think about it, Dowdy dear?" and she appealed to her
+aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Minnie, my child, I think it would be best not to be unkind or
+uncivil, since he saved your life."</p>
+
+<p>Upon this Minnie accompanied her sister to see the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby entered the room first, and Minnie was close behind
+her, as though she sought protection from some unknown peril. On
+entering the room they saw a man dressed in Zouave uniform. His hair was
+cropped short; he wore a mustache and no beard; his features were
+regular and handsome; while a pair of fine dark eyes were looking
+earnestly at the door, and the face and the eyes had the expression of
+one who is triumphantly awaiting the result of some agreeable surprise.
+Mrs. Willoughby at once recognized the stranger as the Zouave officer
+who had stared at them near the Church of the Jesuits. She advanced with
+lady-like grace toward him, when suddenly he stepped hastily past her,
+without taking any notice of her, and catching Minnie in his arms, he
+kissed her several times.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby started back in horror.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie did not resist, nor did she scream, or faint, or do any thing.
+She only looked a little confused, and managed to extricate herself,
+after which she took a seat as far away as she could, putting her sister
+between her and the Zouave. But the Zouave's joy was full, and he didn't
+appear to notice it. He settled himself in a chair, and laughed loud in
+his happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Only to think of it," said he. "Why, I had no more idea of your
+being here, Minnie, than <i>Victory</i>. Well, here you see me. Only
+been here a couple of months or so. You got my last favor, of course?
+And ain't you regular knocked up to see me a Baron? Yes, a Baron&mdash;a
+real, live Baron! I'll tell you all about it. You see I was here two or
+three years ago&mdash;the time of Mentana&mdash;and fought on the Pope's
+side. Odd thing, too, wasn't it, for an American? But so it was. Well,
+they promoted me, and wanted me to stay. But I couldn't fix it. I had
+business off home, and was on my way there the time of the shipwreck.
+Well, I've been dodgin' all round every where since then, but never
+forgettin' little Min, mind you, and at last I found myself here, all
+right. I'd been speculatin' in wines and raisins, and just dropped in
+here to take pot-luck with some old Zouave friends, when, darn me! if
+they didn't make me stay. It seems there's squally times ahead. They
+wanted a live man. They knew I was that live man. They offered me any
+thing I wanted. They offered me the title of Baron Atramonte. That
+knocked me, I tell you. Says I, I'm your man. So now you see me
+<span class = "pagenum">59</span>
+Baron Atramonte, captain in the Papal Zouaves, ready to go where glory
+waits me&mdash;but fonder than ever of little Min. Oh, I tell you what,
+I ain't a bit of a brag, but I'm <i>some</i> here. The men think I'm a
+little the tallest lot in the shape of a commander they ever <i>did</i>
+see. When I'm in Rome I do as the Romans do, and so I let fly at them a
+speech every now and then. Why, I've gone through nearly the whole
+'National Speaker' by this time. I've given them Marcellus's speech to
+the mob, Brutus's to the Romans, and Antony's over Cæsar's dead body. I
+tried a bit of Cicero against Catiline, but I couldn't remember it very
+well. You know it, of course. <i>Quousque tandem</i>, you know."</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic059.png" width = "453" height = "454"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"CATCHING MINNIE IN HIS ARMS, HE KISSED HER SEVERAL TIMES."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Min, how goes it?" he continued. "This <i>is</i> jolly; and,
+what's more, it's real good in you&mdash;darn me if it ain't! I knew
+you'd be regularly struck up all of a heap when you heard of me as a
+Baron, but I really didn't think you'd come all the way here to see me.
+And you do look stunning! You do beat all! And this lady? You haven't
+introduced me, you know."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron rose, and looked expectantly at
+<span class = "pagenum">59b</span>
+Mrs. Willoughby, and then at Minnie. The latter faltered forth some
+words, among which the Baron caught the names Mrs. Willoughby and Rufus
+K. Gunn, the latter name pronounced, with the middle initial and all, in
+a queer, prim way.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Willoughby&mdash;ah!&mdash;Min's sister, I presume. Well, I'm
+pleased to see you, ma'am. Do you know, ma'am, I have reason to remember
+your name? It's associated with the brightest hours of my life. It was
+in your parlor, ma'am, that I first obtained Min's promise of her hand.
+Your hand, madam."</p>
+
+<p>And, stooping down, he grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand, which was not
+extended, and wrung it so hard that she actually gave a little
+shriek.</p>
+
+<p>"For my part, ma'am," he continued, "I'm not ashamed of my
+name&mdash;not a mite. It's a good, honest name; but being as the Holy
+Father's gone and made me a noble, I prefer being addressed by my title.
+All Americans are above titles. They despise them. But being in Rome,
+you see, we must do as the Romans do; and so you needn't know me as
+Rufus
+<span class = "pagenum">60</span>
+K. Gunn, but as the Baron Atramonte. As for you, Min&mdash;you and I
+won't stand on ceremony&mdash;you may call me 'Roof,' or any other name
+you fancy. I would suggest some pet name&mdash;something a little
+loving, you know."</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all this, which was poured forth with extreme
+volubility, the servant came and handed a card.</p>
+
+<p>"Count Girasole."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic060.png" width = "213" height = "289"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"HAWBURY, AS I'M A LIVING SINNER!"</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXV" id = "chapXV">
+CHAPTER XV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE AMERICAN BARON.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">At</span> any other time Mrs. Willoughby
+would perhaps have man&oelig;uvred Minnie out of the room; but on the
+present occasion the advent of the Italian was an inexpressible relief.
+Mrs. Willoughby was not prepared for a scene like this. The manners, the
+language, and the acts of Rufus K. Gunn had filled her with simple
+horror. She was actually bewildered, and her presence of mind was
+utterly gone. As for Minnie, she was quite helpless, and sat, looking
+frightened. The Baron Atramonte might have been one of the excellent of
+the earth&mdash;he might have been brave and loyal and just and true and
+tender, but his manner was one to which they were unaccustomed, and
+consequently Mrs. Willoughby was quite overcome.</p>
+
+<p>The arrival of Girasole, therefore, was greeted by her with joy. She
+at once rose to meet him, and could not help infusing into her greeting
+a warmth which she had never shown him before. Girasole's handsome eyes
+sparkled with delight, and when Mrs. Willoughby pointedly made way for
+him to seat himself next to Minnie his cup of joy was full. Mrs.
+Willoughby's only idea at that moment was to
+<span class = "pagenum">60b</span>
+throw some obstacle between Minnie and that "dreadful person" who
+claimed her as his own, and had taken such shocking liberties. She did
+not know that Girasole was in Rome, and now accepted his arrival at that
+opportune moment as something little less than providential.</p>
+
+<p>And now, actuated still by the idea of throwing further obstacles
+between Minnie and the Baron, she herself went over to the latter, and
+began a series of polite remarks about the weather and about Rome; while
+Girasole, eager to avail himself of his unexpected privilege, conversed
+with Minnie in a low voice in his broken English.</p>
+
+<p>This arrangement was certainly not very agreeable to the Baron. His
+flow of spirits seemed to be checked at once, and his volubility ceased.
+He made only monosyllabic answers to Mrs. Willoughby's remarks, and his
+eyes kept wandering, over beyond her to Minnie, and scrutinizing the
+Italian who was thus monopolizing her at the very moment when he was
+beginning to have a "realizing sense" of her presence. He looked
+puzzled. He could not understand it at all. He felt that some wrong was
+done by somebody. He fell into an ungracious mood. He hated the Italian
+who had thus come between him and his happiness, and who chatted with
+Minnie, in his abominable broken English, just like an old acquaintance.
+He couldn't understand it. He felt an unpleasant restraint thrown over
+him, and began to meditate a departure, and a call at some more
+favorable time later in the evening. But he wanted to have a few more
+words with "Min," and so he tried to "sit out" the Italian.</p>
+
+<p>But the Italian was as determined as the American. It was the first
+chance that he had had to get a word with Minnie since he was in Milan,
+and he was eager to avail himself of it. Mrs. Willoughby, on her part,
+having thus discomfited the Baron, was not unmindful of the other
+danger; so she moved her seat to a position near enough to overlook and
+check Girasole, and then resumed those formal, chilling, heartless, but
+perfectly polite remarks which she had been administering to the Baron
+since Girasole's arrival.</p>
+
+<p>At length Mrs. Willoughby began to be dreadfully bored, and groaned
+in spirit over the situation in which Minnie had placed herself, and
+racked her brains to find some way of retreat from these two determined
+lovers, who thus set at naught the usages of society for their own
+convenience. She grew indignant. She wondered if they would <i>ever</i>
+go. She wondered if it were not possible to engage the Count and the
+Baron in a conversation by themselves, and, under cover of it, withdraw.
+Finally she began to think whether she would not be justified in being
+rude to them, since they were so inconsiderate. She thought over this,
+and was rapidly coming to the decision that some act of rudeness was her
+only hope, when, to her immense relief, the servant entered and
+announced Lord Hawbury.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">61</span>
+
+<p>The entrance of the welcome guest into the room where the unwelcome
+ones were seated was to Mrs. Willoughby like light in a dark place. To
+Minnie also it brought immense relief in her difficult position. The
+ladies rose, and were about to greet the new-comer, when, to their
+amazement, the Baron sprang forward, caught Lord Hawbury's hand, and
+wrung it over and over again with the most astonishing vehemence.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury, as I'm a living sinner! Thunderation! Where did you come
+from? Good again! Darn it all, Hawbury, this is real good! And how well
+you look! <i>How</i> are you? All right, and right side up? Who'd have
+thought it? It ain't you, really, now, is it? Darn me if I ever was so
+astonished in my life! You're the last man I'd have expected. Yes,
+<i>Sir</i>. You may bet high on that."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, really," said Hawbury, "my dear fellow! Flattered, I'm sure. And
+how goes it with you? Deuced odd place to find you, old boy. And I'm
+deuced glad to see you, you know, and all that sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>And he wrung the Baron's hand quite as heartily as the other wrung
+his; and the expression on his face was of as much cordiality and
+pleasure as that upon the face of the other. Then Hawbury greeted the
+ladies, and apologized by stating that the Baron was a very old and
+tried friend, whom he had not seen for years; which intelligence
+surprised Mrs. Willoughby greatly, and brought a faint ray of something
+like peace to poor Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies were not imprisoned much longer. Girasole threw a black
+look at Lord Hawbury, and retreated. After a few moments' chat Hawbury
+also retired, and made the Baron go with him. And the Baron went without
+any urging. He insisted, however, on shaking hands heartily with both of
+the ladies, especially Minnie, whose poor little hand he nearly crushed
+into a pulp; and to the latter he whispered the consoling assurance that
+he would come to see her on the following day. After which he followed
+his friend out.</p>
+
+<p>Then he took Hawbury over to his own quarters, and Hawbury made
+himself very much at home in a rocking-chair, which the Baron regarded
+as the pride and joy and glory of his room.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "This is deuced odd, do you know, old chap;
+and I can't imagine how the mischief you got here!"</p>
+
+<p>This led to long explanations, and a long conversation, which was
+protracted far into the night, to the immense enjoyment of both of the
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron was, as Lord Hawbury had said, an old friend. He had become
+acquainted with him many years before upon the prairies of America, near
+the Rocky Mountains. The Baron had rescued him from Indians, by whom he
+had been entrapped, and the two friends had wandered far over those
+regions, enduring perils, fighting enemies, and roughing it in general.
+<span class = "pagenum">61b</span>
+This rough life had made each one's better nature visible to the other,
+and had led to the formation of a friendship full of mutual appreciation
+of the other's best qualities. Now it is just possible that if they had
+not known one another, Hawbury might have thought the Baron a boor, and
+the Baron might have called Hawbury a "thundering snob;" but as it was,
+the possible boor and the possible snob each thought the other one of
+the finest fellows in the world.</p>
+
+<p>"But you're not a Roman Catholic," said Hawbury, as the Baron
+explained his position among the Zouaves.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the odds? All's fish that comes to their net. To get an
+office in the Church may require a profession of faith, but we're not so
+particular in the army. I take the oath, and they let me go. Besides, I
+have Roman Catholic leanings."</p>
+
+<p>"Roman Catholic leanings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I like the Pope. He's a fine man, Sir&mdash;a fine man. I
+regard that man more like a father than any thing else. There isn't one
+of us but would lay down our lives for that old gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"But you never go to confession, and you're not a member of the
+Church."</p>
+
+<p>"No; but then I'm a member of the army, and I have long chats with
+some of the English-speaking priests. There are some first-rate fellows
+among them, too. Yes, Sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see much of a leaning in all that."</p>
+
+<p>"Leaning? Why, it's all leaning. Why, look here. I remember the time
+when I was a grim, true-blue Puritan. Well, I ain't that now. I used to
+think the Pope was the Beast of the 'Pocalypse. Well, now I think he's
+the finest old gentleman I ever saw. I didn't use to go to Catholic
+chapel. Well, now I'm there often, and I rather kind o' like it.
+Besides, I'm ready to argue with them all day and all night, and what
+more can they expect from a fighting man?</p>
+
+<p>"You see, after our war I got my hand in, and couldn't stop fighting.
+The Indians wouldn't do&mdash;too much throat-cutting and savagery. So I
+came over here, took a fancy to the Pope, enlisted, was at Mentana, fit
+there, got promoted, went home, couldn't stand it, and here I am, back
+again; though how long I'm going to be here is more'n I can tell. The
+fact is, I feel kind of onsettled."</p>
+
+<p>"Why so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's an aggravating place, at the best."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's such an everlasting waste of resources&mdash;such tarnation
+bad management. Fact is, I've noted that it's always the case wherever
+you trust ministers to do business. They're sure to make a mess of it.
+I've known lots of cases. Why, that's always the way with us. Look at
+our stock-companies of any kind, our religious societies, and our
+publishing houses&mdash;wherever they get a ministerial committee, the
+whole concern goes to blazes. I <i>know</i> that.
+<span class = "pagenum">62</span>
+Yes, <i>Sir</i>. Now that's the case here. Here's a fine country. Why,
+round this here city there's a country, Sir, that, if properly managed,
+might beat any of our prairies&mdash;and look at it.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, again, they complain of poverty. Why, I can tell you, from my
+own observation, that they've got enough capital locked up, lying
+useless, in this here city, to regenerate it all, and put it on its
+feet. This capital wants to be utilized. It's been lying too long
+without paying interest. It's time that it stopped. Why, I tell you what
+it is, if they were to sell out what they have here lying idle, and
+realize, they'd get enough money to form an endowment fund for the Pope
+and his court so big that his Holiness and every official in the place
+might get salaries all round out of the interest that would enable them
+to live like&mdash;well, I was going to say like princes, but there's a
+lot of princes in Rome that live so shabby that the comparison ain't
+worth nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, see here, now," continued the Baron, warming with his theme,
+which seemed to be a congenial one; "just look here; see the position of
+this Roman court. They can actually levy taxes on the whole world.
+Voluntary contributions, Sir, are a wonderful power. Think of our
+missionary societies&mdash;our Sabbath-school organizations in the
+States. Think of the wealth, the activity, and the action of all our
+great charitable, philanthropic, and religious bodies. What supports
+them all? Voluntary contributions. Now what I mean to say is
+this&mdash;I mean to say that if a proper organization was arranged
+here, they could get annual receipts from the whole round globe that
+would make the Pope the richest man on it. Why, in that case Rothschild
+wouldn't be a circumstance. The Pope might go into banking himself, and
+control the markets of the world. But no. There's a lot of ministers
+here, and they haven't any head for it. I wish they'd give me a chance.
+I'd make things spin.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, again, they've got other things here that's ruining them.
+There's too much repression, and that don't do for the immortal mind. My
+idea is that every man was created free and equal, and has a right to do
+just as he darn pleases; but you can't beat that into the heads of the
+governing class here. No, Sir. The fact is, what Rome wants is a
+republic. It'll come, too, some day. The great mistake of his Holiness's
+life is that he didn't put himself at the head of the movement in '48.
+He had the chance, but he got frightened, and backed down. Whereas if he
+had been a real, live Yankee, now&mdash;if he had been like some of our
+Western parsons&mdash;he'd have put himself on the tiptop of the highest
+wave, and gone in. Why, he could have had all Italy at his right hand by
+this time, instead of having it all against him. There's where he made
+his little mistake. If I were Pope I'd fight the enemy with their own
+weapons. I'd accept the situation. I'd go in head over heels for a
+republic. I'd have Rome the capital, myself president, Garibaldi
+<span class = "pagenum">62b</span>
+commander-in-chief, Mazzini secretary of state&mdash;a man, Sir, that
+can lick even Bill Seward himself in a regular, old-fashioned, tonguey,
+subtile, diplomatic note. And in that case, with a few live men at the
+head of affairs, where would Victor Emanuel be? Emphatically,
+nowhere!</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Sir," continued the Baron, "I'd engage to take this city as it
+is, and the office of Pope, and run the whole Roman Catholic Church,
+till it knocked out all opposition by the simple and natural process of
+absorbing all opponents. We want a republic here in Rome. We want
+freedom, Sir. Where is the Church making its greatest triumphs to-day?
+In the States, Sir. If the Catholic Church made itself free and liberal
+and go-ahead; if it kept up with the times; if it was imbued with the
+spirit of progress, and pitched aside all old-fashioned
+traditions&mdash;why, I tell you, Sir, it would be a little the tallest
+organization on this green globe of ours. Yes, <i>Sir!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>While Hawbury and the Baron were thus engaged in high discourse, Mrs.
+Willoughby and Minnie were engaged in discourses of a less elevated but
+more engrossing character.</p>
+
+<p>After the ladies had escaped they went up stairs. Lady Dalrymple had
+retired some time before to her own room, and they had the apartment to
+themselves. Minnie flung herself into a chair and looked bewildered;
+Mrs. Willoughby took another chair opposite, and said nothing for a long
+time.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Minnie at last, "you needn't be so cross, Kitty; I
+didn't bring him here."</p>
+
+<p>"Cross!" said her sister; "I'm not cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're showing temper, at any rate; and you know you are, and
+I think it very unkind in you, when I have so much to trouble me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, really, Minnie darling, I don't know what to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why don't you tell me what you think of him, and all that sort
+of thing? You <i>might</i>, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Think of him!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, elevating her eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, think of him; and you needn't go and make faces about him, at
+any rate."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I make faces? Well, dear," said Mrs. Willoughby, patiently,
+"I'll tell you what I think of him. I'm afraid of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said Minnie, in a tone of triumph, "now you know how I
+feel. Suppose he saved your life, and then came in his awfully
+boisterous way to see you; and got you alone, and began that way, and
+really quite overwhelmed you, you know; and then, when you were really
+almost stunned, suppose he went and proposed to you? Now, then!"</p>
+
+<p>And Minnie ended this question with the air of one who could not be
+answered, and knew it.</p>
+
+<p>"He's awful&mdash;perfectly awful!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "And the
+way he treated you! It was <i>so</i> shocking."</p>
+
+<p>"I know; and that's just the horrid way he
+<span class = "pagenum">63</span>
+<i>always</i> does," said Minnie, in a plaintive tone. "I'm sure
+<i>I</i> don't know what to do with him. And then he's Lord Hawbury's
+friend. So what <i>are</i> we to do?"</p>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic063.png" width = "342" height = "456"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"LOOK AT THE MAN!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, unless we leave Rome at once."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't <i>want</i> to leave Rome," said Minnie. "I hate being
+chased away from places by people&mdash;and they'd be sure to follow me,
+you know&mdash;and I don't know what to do. And oh, Kitty darling, I've
+just thought of something. It would be so nice. What do you think of
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this. You know the Pope?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, you've seen him, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but what has he got to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I'll get you to take me, and I'll go to him, and tell him all
+about it, and about all these horrid men; and I'll ask him if he can't
+do something or other to help me. They have dispensations and things,
+you know, that the Pope gives; and I want him to let me dispense with
+these awful people."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">63b</span>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see any nonsense in it at all. I'm in earnest," said Minnie;
+"and I think it's a great shame."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said her sister again; "the only thing is for you to stay
+in your room."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to stay in my room, and I can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! what can I do with this child?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby,
+whose patience was giving way.</p>
+
+<p>Upon this Minnie went over and kissed her, and begged to be forgiven;
+and offered to do any thing that darling Kitty wanted her to do.</p>
+
+<p>After this they talked a good deal over their difficulty, but without
+being able to see their way out of it more clearly.</p>
+
+<p>That evening they were walking up and down the balcony of the house.
+It was a quadrangular edifice, and they had a suite of rooms on the
+second and third stories. They were on the balcony of the third story,
+which looked down into the court-yard below. A fountain was in the
+middle of this, and the moon was shining brightly.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies were standing looking down, when Minnie gently touched her
+sister's arm, and whispered,</p>
+
+<p>"Look at the man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"By the fountain."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby looked, and saw the face of a man who was standing on
+the other side of the fountain. His head rose above it, and his face was
+turned toward them. He evidently did not know that he was seen, but was
+watching the ladies, thinking that he himself was unobserved. The moment
+that Mrs. Willoughby looked at the face she recognized it.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," said she to Minnie. And drawing her sister after her, she
+went into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew the face; didn't you, Kitty dear?" said Minnie. "It's so easy
+to tell it. It was Scone Dacres. But what in the world does he want? Oh
+dear! I hope <i>he</i> won't bother me."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+<span class = "pagenum">64</span>
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXVI" id = "chapXVI">
+CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE INTRUDER.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Judging</span> from the Baron's own words,
+it will be perceived that his comprehension of the situation was a
+little different from the actual fact. His idea was that his last letter
+had been received by Minnie in England, whereupon she had been seized
+with such an ungovernable longing to see him that she at once set out
+for Rome. She had not sent him any message, for she wished to surprise
+him. She had done so effectually. He was not merely surprised; he was
+overwhelmed, overjoyed, intoxicated with joy. This was indeed kind, he
+thought&mdash;the true part of a fond girl, who thus cast aside all
+silly scruples, and followed the dictates of her own noble and loving
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Now the fact that he had made a partial failure of his first visit to
+his charmer did not in the slightest degree disconcert him. He was
+naturally joyous, hilarious, and sanguine. His courage never faltered,
+nor could the brightness of his soul be easily dimmed. A disappointment
+on one day gave him but little trouble. It was quickly thrown off, and
+then his buoyant spirit looked forward for better fortune on the next
+day. The little disappointment which he had did not, therefore, prevent
+him from letting his reason feast and his soul flow with Lord Hawbury;
+nor, when that festive season was over, did it prevent him from
+indulging in the brightest anticipations for the following day.</p>
+
+<p>On the afternoon of that day, then, the Baron directed his steps
+toward the hotel where his charmer resided, his heart beating high, and
+the generous blood mantling his cheek, and all that sort of thing. But
+the Baron was not alone. He had a companion, and this companion was an
+acquaintance whom he had made that morning. This companion was very
+tall, very thin, very sallow, with long, straggling locks of rusty black
+hair, white neck-tie, and a suit of rather seedy black clothes. In fact,
+it was the very stranger who had been arrested almost under his eyes as
+a Garibaldian. His case had come under the notice of the Baron, who had
+visited him, and found him not to be a Garibaldian at all, but a
+fellow-countryman in distress&mdash;in short, no less a person than the
+Reverend Saul Tozer, an esteemed clergyman, who had been traveling
+through Europe for the benefit of his health and the enlargement of his
+knowledge. This fellow-countryman in distress had at once been released
+by the Baron's influence; and, not content with giving him his liberty,
+he determined to take him under his protection, and offered to introduce
+him to society; all of which generous offices were fully appreciated by
+the grateful clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron's steps were first directed toward the place above
+mentioned, and the Reverend Saul accompanied him. On reaching it he
+knocked, and asked for Miss Fay.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at home," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," said he, "I'll go in and wait till
+<span class = "pagenum">64b</span>
+she comes home. Come along, parson, and make yourself quite at home. Oh,
+never mind, young man," he continued to the servant; "I know the way.
+Come along, parson." And with these words he led the way into the
+reception-room, in which he had been before.</p>
+
+<p>An elderly lady was seated there whom the Baron recognized as having
+seen before. It was Lady Dalrymple, whose name was, of course, unknown
+to him, since he had only exchanged a few words on his former visit. But
+as he was naturally chivalrous, and as he was bent on making friends
+with all in the house, and as he was also in a glorious state of
+good-will to the entire human race, he at once advanced to the lady and
+made a low bow.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple bowed good-naturedly, for she was good-natured to a
+fault.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you remember me, ma'am," said the Baron, in rather a loud
+voice; for, as the lady was elderly, he had a vague idea that she was
+deaf&mdash;which impression, I may mention, was altogether
+unfounded&mdash;"I suppose you remember me, ma'am? But I haven't had the
+pleasure of a regular introduction to you; so we'll waive ceremony, if
+you choose, and I'll introduce myself. I'm the Baron Atramonte, and this
+is my very particular friend, the Reverend Saul Tozer."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm happy to make your acquaintance," said Lady Dalrymple, with a
+smile, and not taking the Baron's offered hand&mdash;not, however, from
+pride, but simply from laziness&mdash;for she hated the bother, and
+didn't consider it good taste.</p>
+
+<p>"I called here, ma'am," said the Baron, without noticing that Lady
+Dalrymple had not introduced <i>herself</i>&mdash;"I called here, ma'am,
+to see my young friend, Miss Minnie Fay. I'm very sorry that she ain't
+at home; but since I <i>am</i> here, I rather think I'll just set down
+and wait for her. I s'pose you couldn't tell me, ma'am, about how long
+it'll be before she comes in?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple hadn't any idea.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the Baron; "the longer she keeps me waiting, the
+more welcome she'll be when she does come. That's all I've got to
+say."</p>
+
+<p>So the Baron handed a chair to the Reverend Saul, and then selecting
+another for himself in a convenient position, he ensconced himself in it
+as snugly as possible, and sat in silence for a few minutes. Lady
+Dalrymple took no notice of him whatever, but appeared to be engrossed
+with some trifle of needle-work.</p>
+
+<p>After about five minutes the Baron resumed the task of making himself
+agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Long in these parts, ma'am?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not very long," said Lady Dalrymple, with her usual bland
+good-nature.</p>
+
+<p>"A nice place this," continued the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you keep your health, ma'am?" inquired the Baron, with some
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">65</span>
+
+<p>"Thanks," said Lady Dalrymple; which observation set the Baron's mind
+wondering what she meant by that.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, ma'am," said he, after a pause, "might you be any relation to
+a young lady friend of mine that's staying here named Minnie Fay?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little," said Lady Dalrymple; which remark set the Baron again
+wondering. And he was about to return to the charge with another and
+more direct question, when his attention was arrested by the sound of
+footsteps on the stairs; so he sat bolt upright, and stared hard at the
+door. There was the rustle of a dress. The Baron rose. So did the
+Reverend Saul Tozer. The lady appeared. It was not Minnie. It was Mrs.
+Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>Now during the Baron's visit there had been some excitement up
+stairs. The ladies had told the servants that they were not at home to
+any callers that day. They had found with consternation how carelessly
+the Baron had brushed aside their little cobweb regulation, and had
+heard his voice as he strove to keep up an easy conversation with their
+aunt. Whereupon an earnest debate arose. They felt that it was not fair
+to leave their aunt alone with the Baron, and that one of them should go
+to the rescue. To Mrs. Willoughby's amazement, Minnie was anxious to go.
+To this she utterly objected. Minnie insisted, and Mrs. Willoughby was
+in despair. In vain she reproached that most whimsical of young ladies.
+In vain she reminded her of the Baron's rudeness on a former occasion.
+Minnie simply reminded her that the Baron had saved her life. At last
+Mrs. Willoughby actually had to resort to entreaties, and thus she
+persuaded Minnie not to go down. So she went down herself, but in fear
+and trembling, for she did not know at what moment her voluble and
+utterly unreliable sister might take it into her head to follow her.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron, who had risen, full of expectation, stood looking at her,
+full of disappointment, which was very strongly marked on his face. Then
+he recollected that Minnie was "not at home," and that he must wait till
+she did get home. This thought, and the hope that he would not now have
+long to wait, brought back his friendly glow, and his calm and his peace
+and his good-will toward the whole human race, including the ladies in
+the room. He therefore bowed very low, and, advancing, he made an effort
+to shake hands; but Mrs. Willoughby had already known the dread pressure
+which the Baron gave, and evaded him by a polite bow. Thereupon the
+Baron introduced the Reverend Saul Tozer.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron took out his watch, looked at it, frowned, coughed, put it
+back, and then drummed with his fingers on the arm of the chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it be long, ma'am," asked the Baron, "before Minnie gets
+back?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is not out," said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"Not out?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">65b</span>
+
+<p>"Why, the thundering fool of a servant went and told me that she was
+not at home!"</p>
+
+<p>"She is at home," said Mrs. Willoughby, sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>"What! at home!" cried the Baron. "And does she know <i>I'm</i>
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"She does."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why in thunder don't she come down?" cried the Baron,
+wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because she is indisposed."</p>
+
+<p>"Indisposed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>This was the information which Mrs. Willoughby had decided to give to
+the Baron. Minnie had stipulated that his feelings should not be hurt;
+and this seemed to her to be the easiest mode of dealing with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Indisposed!" cried the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! Oh, I hope, ma'am&mdash;I do hope, ma'am, that she ain't
+very bad. Is it any thing serious&mdash;or what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not <i>very</i> serious; she has to keep her room, though."</p>
+
+<p>"She ain't sick abed, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no&mdash;not so bad as that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! it's all <i>me</i>, I know. <i>I'm</i> to blame. She made
+this journey&mdash;the poor little pet!&mdash;just to see me; and the
+fatigue and the excitement have all been too much. Oh, I might have
+known it! Oh, I remember now how pale she looked yesterday! Oh dear!
+what'll I do if any thing happens to her? Oh, do tell me&mdash;is she
+better?&mdash;did she pass a good night?&mdash;does she suffer any
+pain?&mdash;can I do any thing for her?&mdash;will you take a little
+message from me to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is quite easy now, thanks," said Mrs. Willoughby; "but we have
+to keep her perfectly quiet; the slightest excitement may be
+dangerous."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the Reverend Saul had become wearied with sitting dumb, and
+began to look around for some suitable means of taking part in the
+conversation. As the Baron had introduced him to society, he felt that
+it was his duty to take some part so as to assert himself both as a man,
+a scholar, and a clergyman. So, as he found the Baron was monopolizing
+Mrs. Willoughby, he gradually edged over till he came within ear-shot of
+Lady Dalrymple, and then began to work his way toward a
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"This, ma'am," he began, "is truly an interesting spot."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am. I've been for the past few days surveying the ruins of
+antiquity. It is truly a soul-stirring spectacle."</p>
+
+<p>"So I have heard," remarked Lady Dalrymple, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Every thing around us, ma'am," continued the Reverend Saul, in a
+dismal voice, "is subject to dissolution, or is actually dissolving. How
+forcible air the words of the Psalmist: 'Our days air as the grass, or
+like the morning
+<span class = "pagenum">66</span>
+flower; when blasting winds sweep o'er the vale, they wither in an
+hour.' Yes, ma'am, I have this week stood in the Roman Forum. The
+Coliseum, also, ma'am, is a wonderful place. It was built by the Flavian
+emperors, and when completed could hold eighty thousand spectators
+seated, with about twenty thousand standing. In hot weather these
+spectators were protected from the rays of the sun by means of awnings.
+It is a mighty fabric, ma'am!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," said Lady Dalrymple.</p>
+
+<p>"The arch of Titus, ma'am, is a fine ruin. It was originally built by
+the emperor of that name to commemorate the conquest of Jerusalem. The
+arch of Septimius Severus was built by the Emperor of that name, and the
+arch of Constantine was built by the emperor of <i>that</i> name. They
+are all very remarkable structures."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm charmed to hear you say so."</p>
+
+<p>"It's true, ma'am; but let me add, ma'am, that the ruins of this
+ancient city do not offer to my eyes a spectacle half so melancholy as
+the great moral ruin which is presented by the modern city. For, ma'am,
+when I look around, what do I see? I behold the Babylon of the
+Apocalypse! Pray, ma'am, have you ever reflected much on that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to any great extent," said Lady Dalrymple, who now began to feel
+bored, and so arose to her feet. The Reverend Saul Tozer was just
+getting on a full head of conversational steam, and was just fairly
+under way, when this sad and chilling occurrence took place. She rose
+and bowed to the gentlemen, and began to retreat.</p>
+
+<p>All this time the Baron had been pouring forth to Mrs. Willoughby his
+excited interrogatories about Minnie's health, and had asked her to take
+a message. This Mrs. Willoughby refused at first.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" said she; "it will really disturb her too much. What she
+wants most is perfect quiet. Her health is really <i>very</i> delicate,
+and I am <i>excessively</i> anxious about her."</p>
+
+<p>"But does she&mdash;does she&mdash;is she&mdash;can she walk about
+her own room?" stammered the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"A little," said Mrs. Willoughby. "Oh, I hope in a few weeks she may
+be able to come down. But the very <i>greatest</i> care and quiet are
+needed, for she is in such a <i>very</i> delicate state that we watch
+her night and day."</p>
+
+<p>"A few weeks!" echoed the Baron, in dismay. "Watch her night and
+day!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you know, it is the only chance for her recovery. She is
+<i>so</i> delicate."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron looked at Mrs. Willoughby with a pale face, upon which
+there was real suffering and real misery.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I do something?" he gasped. "Won't you take a message to her?
+It ought to do her good. Perhaps she thinks I'm neglecting her. Perhaps
+she thinks I ain't here enough. Tell her I'm ready to give up my office,
+and even
+<span class = "pagenum">66b</span>
+my title of nobility, and come and live here, if it'll be any comfort to
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, really, Sir, you <i>quite</i> mistake her," said Mrs.
+Willoughby. "It has no reference to you whatever. It's a nervous
+affection, accompanied with general debility and neuralgia."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, you don't know her," said the Baron, incredulously. "I
+<i>know</i> her. I know what it is. But she walks, don't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a little&mdash;just across the room; still, even that is too
+much. She is <i>very, very</i> weak, and must be <i>quite</i> kept free
+from excitement. Even the excitement of your visits is bad for her. Her
+pulse
+is&mdash;is&mdash;always&mdash;accelerated&mdash;and&mdash;she&mdash;I&mdash;Oh,
+dear me!"</p>
+
+<p>While Mrs. Willoughby had been making up this last sentence she was
+startled by a rustling on the stairs. It was the rustle of a female's
+dress. An awful thought occurred to her, which distracted her, and
+confused her in the middle of her sentence, and made her scarce able to
+articulate her words. And as she spoke them the rustle drew nearer, and
+she heard the sound of feet descending the stairs, until at last the
+footsteps approached the door, and Mrs. Willoughby, to her utter horror,
+saw Minnie herself.</p>
+
+<p>Now as to the Baron, in the course of his animated conversation with
+Mrs. Willoughby, and in his excited entreaties to her to carry a message
+up to the invalid, he had turned round with his back to the door. It was
+about the time that Lady Dalrymple had begun to beat a retreat. As she
+advanced the Baron saw her, and, with his usual politeness, moved ever
+so far to one side, bowing low as he did so. Lady Dalrymple passed, the
+Baron raised himself, and as Mrs. Willoughby was yet speaking, and had
+just reached the exclamation which concluded her last remark, he was
+astounded by the sudden appearance of Minnie herself at the door.</p>
+
+<p>The effect of this sudden appearance was overwhelming. Mrs.
+Willoughby stood thunder-struck, and the Baron utterly bewildered. The
+latter recovered his faculties first. It was just as Lady Dalrymple was
+passing out. With a bound he sprang toward Minnie, and caught her in his
+arms, uttering a series of inarticulate cries.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Min! and you did come down, did you? And you couldn't stay up
+there, could you? I wanted to send a message to you. Poor little Min!
+you're so weak. Is it any thing serious? Oh, my darling little Min! But
+sit down on this here seat. Don't stand; you're too weak. Why didn't you
+send, and I'd have carried you down? But tell me now, honest, wasn't it
+<i>me</i> that brought this on? Never mind, I'll never leave you
+again."</p>
+
+<p>This is the style which the gallant Baron adopted to express his
+sentiments concerning Minnie; and the result was that he succeeded in
+giving utterance to words that were quite as incoherent as any that
+Minnie herself, in her most rambling moods, had ever uttered.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron now gave himself up to joy. He
+<span class = "pagenum">67</span>
+took no notice of any body. He sat by Minnie's side on a sofa, and
+openly held her hand. The Reverend Saul Tozer looked on with an
+approving smile, and surveyed the scene like a father. Mrs. Willoughby's
+soul was on fire with indignation at Minnie's folly and the Baron's
+impudence. She was also indignant that her little conventional
+falsehoods had been suddenly disproved by the act of Minnie herself. Yet
+she did not know what to say, and so she went to a chair, and flung
+herself into it in fierce anger.</p>
+
+<p>As for Minnie herself, she had come down to the Baron, and appeared
+rather to enjoy the situation. She talked about Rome and Naples, and
+asked him all about himself, and the Baron explained his whole situation
+down to the minutest detail. She was utterly indifferent to her sister.
+Once or twice the Baron made a move to go, but did not succeed. He
+finally settled himself down apparently for the rest of the day; but
+Mrs. Willoughby at last interposed. She walked forward. She took
+Minnie's hand, and spoke to her in a tone which she but seldom used.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall <i>not</i> stay here any longer!" she cried. "Come."</p>
+
+<p>And Minnie obeyed at once.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron insisted on a tender adieu. Mrs. Willoughby stood by, with
+flashing eyes and heaving breast.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie followed her up stairs in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"You silly child!" she cried. "Are you mad? What made you come down?
+You broke your promise!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;well&mdash;I couldn't help it, and he is so deliciously
+rude; and do you know, Kitty dearest, I really begin to feel quite fond
+of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Now listen, child. You shall never see him again."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why not," whimpered Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm going to telegraph to papa. I wouldn't have the
+responsibility of you another week for the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, you're horrid."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXVII" id = "chapXVII">
+CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE BARON'S ASSAULTS.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">On</span> the eventful afternoon when the
+Baron had effected an entrance into the heart of the enemy's country,
+another caller had come there&mdash;one equally intent and equally
+determined, but not quite so aggressive. This was the Count Girasole.
+The same answer was given to him which had been given to the Baron, but
+with far different effect. The Baron had carelessly brushed the slight
+obstacle aside. To the Count it was an impenetrable barrier. It was a
+bitter disappointment, too; for he had been filled with the brightest
+hopes and expectations by the reception with which he had met on his
+last visit. That reception had made him believe that they had changed
+their sentiments
+<span class = "pagenum">67b</span>
+and their attitude toward him, and that for the future he would be
+received in the same fashion. He had determined, therefore, to make the
+most of this favorable change, and so he at once repeated his call. This
+time, however, his hopes were crushed. What made it worse, he had seen
+the entrance of the Baron and the Reverend Saul, and knew by this that
+instead of being a favored mortal in the eyes of these ladies, he was
+really, in their estimation, placed below these comparative strangers.
+By the language of Lord Hawbury on his previous call, he knew that the
+acquaintance of the Baron with Mrs. Willoughby was but recent.</p>
+
+<p>The disappointment of the Count filled him with rage, and revived all
+his old feelings and plans and projects. The Count was not one who could
+suffer in silence. He was a crafty, wily, subtle, scheming Italian,
+whose fertile brain was full of plans to achieve his desires, and who
+preferred to accomplish his aims by a tortuous path, rather than by a
+straight one. This repulse revived old projects, and he took his
+departure with several little schemes in his mind, some of which, at
+least, were destined to bear fruit afterward.</p>
+
+<p>On the following day the Baron called once more. The ladies in the
+mean time had talked over the situation, but were unable to see what
+they were to do with a man who insisted on forcing his way into their
+house. Their treatment would have been easy enough if it had not been
+for Minnie. She insisted that they should not be unkind to him. He had
+saved her life, she said, and she could not treat him with rudeness.
+Lady Dalrymple was in despair, and Mrs. Willoughby at her wit's end,
+while Ethel, to whom the circumstance was made known, was roused by it
+from her sadness, and tried to remonstrate with Minnie. All her efforts,
+however, were as vain as those of her friends. Minnie could not be
+induced to take any decided stand. She insisted on seeing him whenever
+he called, on the ground that it would be unkind not to.</p>
+
+<p>"And will you insist on seeing Girasole also?" asked Mrs.
+Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I'm awfully sorry for him," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Captain Kirby will be here next. Of course you will see
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said Minnie, resignedly.</p>
+
+<p>"And how long do you think this sort of thing can go on? They'll
+meet, and blood will be shed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! I'm afraid so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'm not going to allow it. I've telegraphed to papa. He'll see
+whether you are going to have your own way or not."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't see what dear papa can do."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't let you see those horrid men."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't be cruel enough to lock me up in the house. I do wish he
+would come and take me away. I don't want them. They're all horrid."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">68</span>
+
+<p>"This last one&mdash;this Gunn&mdash;is the most terrible man I ever
+saw."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Kitty dearest! How <i>can</i> you say so? Why, his rudeness and
+violence are perfectly irresistible. He's charming. He bullies one so
+deliciously."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby at this turned away in despair.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie's very peculiar situation was certainly one which required a
+speedy change. The forced entrance of the Baron had thrown consternation
+into the family. Ethel herself had been roused, and took a part in the
+debate. She began to see Minnie in a new light, and Hawbury's attention
+to her began to assume the appearance of a very mournful joke. To her
+mind Minnie was now the subject of desperate attention from five
+men.</p>
+
+<p>Thus:</p>
+
+<p>1. Lord Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>2. Count Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>3. Scone Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>4. Baron Atramonte.</p>
+
+<p>5. Captain Kirby, of whom Mrs. Willoughby had just told her.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">68b</span>
+
+<p>And of these, four had saved her life, and consequently had the
+strongest possible claims on her.</p>
+
+<p>And the only satisfaction which Ethel could gain out of this was the
+thought that Hawbury, at least, had not saved Minnie's life.</p>
+
+<p>And now to proceed.</p>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic068.png" width = "339" height = "454"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"MIN, IT'S ME!"</p>
+
+<p>The Baron called, as has been said, on the following day. This time
+he did not bring the Reverend Saul with him. He wished to see Minnie
+alone, and felt the presence of third persons to be rather
+unpleasant.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the place he was told, as before, that the ladies were
+not at home.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Baron remembered that on the preceding day the servant had
+said the same, while all the time the ladies were home. He was
+charitably inclined to suppose that it was a mistake, and not a
+deliberate lie; and, as he was in a frame of good-will to mankind, he
+adopted this first theory.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, young man," said he; "but as you lied
+yesterday&mdash;under a mistake&mdash;I prefer seeing for myself
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>So the Baron brushed by the servant, and went in. He entered the
+room. No one was there. He waited a little while, and thought. He was
+too impatient to wait long. He could not trust these lying servants. So
+he determined to try for himself. Her room was up stairs, somewhere in
+the story above.</p>
+
+<p>So he went out of the room, and up the stairs, until his head was on
+a level with the floor of the story above. Then he called:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Min!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class = "smallcaps">Min!</span>" in a louder voice.</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"MIN! it's ME!" still louder.</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>MIN!</i>" a perfect yell.</p>
+
+<p>At this last shout there was a response. One of the doors opened, and
+a lady made her appearance, while at two other doors appeared
+<span class = "pagenum">69</span>
+two maids. The lady was young and beautiful, and her face was stern, and
+her dark eyes looked indignantly toward the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" she asked, abruptly; "and what do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? I'm the Baron Atramonte; and I want Min. Don't you know where
+she is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Min."</p>
+
+<p>"Min?" asked the other, in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. My Min&mdash;Minnie, you know. Minnie Fay."</p>
+
+<p>At this the lady looked at the Baron with utter horror.</p>
+
+<p>"I want her."</p>
+
+<p>"She's not at home," said the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, it's too bad. I must see her. Is she out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? Honor bright now?"</p>
+
+<p>The lady retired and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, darn it all, you needn't be so peppery," muttered the Baron.
+"I didn't say any thing. I only asked a civil question. Out, hey? Well,
+she must be this time. If she'd been in, she'd have made her appearance.
+Well, I'd best go out and hunt her up. They don't seem to me altogether
+so cordial as I'd like to have them. They're just a leetle too
+'ristocratic."</p>
+
+<p>With these observations to himself, the Baron descended the stairs,
+and made his way to the door. Here he threw an engaging smile upon the
+servant, and made a remark which set the other on the broad grin for the
+remainder of the day. After this the Baron took his departure.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron this time went to some stables, and reappeared in a short
+time mounted upon a gallant steed, and careering down the Corso. In due
+time he reached the Piazza del Popolo, and then he ascended the Pincian
+Hill. Here he rode about for some time, and finally his perseverance was
+rewarded. He was looking down from the summit of the hill upon the
+Piazza below, when he caught sight of a barouche, in which were three
+ladies. One of these sat on the front seat, and her white face and short
+golden hair seemed to indicate to him the one he sought.</p>
+
+<p>In an instant he put spurs to his horse, and rode down the hill as
+quick as possible, to the great alarm of the crowds who were going up
+and down. In a short time he had caught up with the carriage. He was
+right. It was the right one, and Minnie was there, together with Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby. The ladies, on learning of his approach,
+exhibited no emotion. They were prepared for this, and resigned. They
+had determined that Minnie should have no more interviews with him
+indoors; and since they could not imprison her altogether, they would
+have to submit for the present to his advances. But they were rapidly
+becoming desperate.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Hawbury was riding by the carriage as the Baron came up.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">69b</span>
+
+<p>"Hallo!" said he to the former. "How do? and <i>how</i> are you all?
+Why, I've been hunting all over creation. Well, Minnie, how goes it?
+Feel lively? That's right. Keep out in the open air. Take all the
+exercise you can, and eat as hard as you can. You live too quiet as a
+general thing, and want to knock around more. But we'll fix all that,
+won't we, Min, before a month of Sundays?"</p>
+
+<p>The advent of the Baron in this manner, and his familiar address to
+Minnie, filled Hawbury with amazement. He had been surprised at finding
+him with the ladies on the previous day, but there was nothing in his
+demeanor which was at all remarkable. Now, however, he noticed the very
+great familiarity of his tone and manner toward Minnie, and was
+naturally amazed. The Baron had not confided to him his secret, and he
+could not understand the cause of such intimacy between the
+representatives of such different classes. He therefore listened with
+inexpressible astonishment to the Baron's language, and to Minnie's
+artless replies.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie was sitting on the front seat of the barouche, and was alone
+in that seat. As the gentlemen rode on each side of the carriage her
+face was turned toward them. Hawbury rode back, so that he was beside
+Lady Dalrymple; but the Baron rode forward, on the other side, so as to
+bring himself as near to Minnie as possible. The Baron was exceedingly
+happy. His happiness showed itself in the flush of his face, in the glow
+of his eyes, and in the general exuberance and all-embracing swell of
+his manner. His voice was loud, his gestures demonstrative, and his
+remarks were addressed by turns to each one in the company. The others
+soon gave up the attempt to talk, and left it all to the Baron. Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby exchanged glances of despair. Hawbury
+still looked on in surprise, while Minnie remained perfectly calm,
+perfectly self-possessed, and conversed with her usual simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>As the party thus rode on they met a horseman, who threw a rapid
+glance over all of them. It was Girasole. The ladies bowed, and Mrs.
+Willoughby wished that he had come a little before, so that he could
+have taken the place beside the carriage where the Baron now was. But
+the place was now appropriated, and there was no chance for the Count.
+Girasole threw a dark look over them, which rested more particularly on
+Hawbury. Hawbury nodded lightly at the Count, and didn't appear to take
+any further notice of him. All this took up but a few moments, and the
+Count passed on.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after they met another horseman. He sat erect, pale, sad,
+with a solemn, earnest glow in his melancholy eyes. Minnie's back was
+turned toward him, so that she could not see his face, but his eyes were
+fixed upon Mrs. Willoughby. She looked back at him and bowed, as did
+also Lady Dalrymple. He took off his hat, and the carriage rolled past.
+Then he turned and looked after it, bareheaded, and Minnie caught sight
+of him, and smiled and
+<span class = "pagenum">70</span>
+bowed. And then in a few moments more the crowd swallowed up Scone
+Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron thus enjoyed himself in a large, exuberant fashion, and
+monopolized the conversation in a large, exuberant way. He outdid
+himself. He confided to the ladies his plans for the regeneration of the
+Roman Church and the Roman State. He told stories of his adventures in
+the Rocky Mountains. He mentioned the state of his finances, and his
+prospects for the future. He was as open, as free, and as communicative
+as if he had been at home, with fond sisters and admiring brothers
+around him. The ladies were disgusted at it all; and by the ladies I
+mean only Mrs. Willoughby and Lady Dalrymple. For Minnie was
+not&mdash;she actually listened in delight. It was not conventional.
+Very well. Neither was the Baron. And for that matter, neither was she.
+He was a child of nature. So was she. His rudeness, his aggressiveness,
+his noise, his talkativeness, his egotism, his confidences about
+himself&mdash;all these did not make him so very disagreeable to her as
+to her sister and aunt.</p>
+
+<p>So Minnie treated the Baron with the utmost complaisance, and Hawbury
+was surprised, and Mrs. Willoughby and Lady Dalrymple were disgusted;
+but the Baron was delighted, and his soul was filled with perfect joy.
+Too soon for him was this drive over. But the end came, and they reached
+the hotel. Hawbury left them, but the Baron lingered. The spot was too
+sweet, the charm too dear&mdash;he could not tear himself away.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, he actually followed the ladies into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll just make myself comfortable in here, Min, till you
+come down," said the Baron. And with these words he walked into the
+reception-room, where he selected a place on a sofa, and composed
+himself to wait patiently for Minnie to come down.</p>
+
+<p>So he waited, and waited, and waited&mdash;but Minnie did not come.
+At last he grew impatient. He walked out, and up the stairs, and
+listened.</p>
+
+<p>He heard ladies' voices.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Min!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class = "smallcaps">Min!</span>" louder.</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"MIN! HALLO-O-O-O!"</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>MIN!</i>" a perfect shout.</p>
+
+<p>At this a door was opened violently, and Mrs. Willoughby walked out.
+Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glanced fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," she said, "this is intolerable! You must be intoxicated. Go
+away at once, or I shall certainly have you turned out of the
+house."</p>
+
+<p>And saying this she went back, shut the door, and locked it.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron was thunder-struck. He had never been treated so in his
+life. He was cut to the heart. His feelings were deeply wounded.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">70b</span>
+
+<p>"Darn it!" he muttered. "What's all this for? I ain't been doing any
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>He walked out very thoughtfully. He couldn't understand it at all. He
+was troubled for some time. But at last his buoyant spirit rose superior
+to this temporary depression. To-morrow would explain all, he thought.
+Yes, to-morrow would make it all right. To-morrow he would see Min, and
+get her to tell him what in thunder the row was. She'd have to tell, for
+he could never find out. So he made up his mind to keep his soul in
+patience.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Hawbury was over at the Baron's quarters, by special
+invitation, and the Baron decided to ask his advice. So in the course of
+the evening, while in the full, easy, and confidential mood that arises
+out of social intercourse, he told Hawbury his whole
+story&mdash;beginning with the account of his first meeting with Minnie,
+and his rescue of her, and her acceptance of him, down to this very day,
+when he had been so terribly snubbed by Mrs. Willoughby. To all this
+Hawbury listened in amazement. It was completely new to him. He wondered
+particularly to find another man who had saved the life of this quiet,
+timid little girl.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron asked his advice, but Hawbury declined giving any. He said
+he couldn't advise any man in a love-affair. Every man must trust to
+himself. No one's advice could be of any avail. Hawbury, in fact, was
+puzzled, but he said the best he could. The Baron himself was fully of
+Hawbury's opinion. He swore that it was truth, and declared the man that
+followed another's advice in a love-affair was a "darned fool that
+didn't deserve to win his gal."</p>
+
+<p>There followed a general conversation on things of a different kind.
+The Baron again discoursed on church and state. He then exhibited some
+curiosities. Among other things a skull. He used it to hold his tobacco.
+He declared that it was the skull of an ancient Roman. On the inside was
+a paper pasted there, on which he had written the following:</p>
+
+<div class = "song"> <!-- pairs of lines -->
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+"Oh, I'm the skull of a Roman bold<br>
+That fit in the ancient war;</p>
+<p>From East to West I bore the flag<br>
+Of S. P. Q. and R.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+"In East and West, and North and South,<br>
+We made the nations fear us&mdash;</p>
+<p>Both Nebuchadnezzar and Hannibal,<br>
+And Pharaoh too, and Pyrrhus.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+"We took their statutes from the Greeks,<br>
+And lots of manuscripts too;</p>
+<p>We set adrift on his world-wide tramp<br>
+The original wandering Jew.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+"But at last the beggarly Dutchman came,<br>
+With his lager and sauerkraut;</p>
+<p>And wherever that beggarly Dutchman went<br>
+He made a terrible rout.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+"Wo ist der Deutscher's Vaterland?<br>
+Is it near the ocean wild?</p>
+<p>Is it where the feathery palm-trees grow?<br>
+Not there, not there, my child.</p>
+
+<p class = "stanza">
+"But it's somewhere down around the Rhine;<br>
+And now that Bismarck's come,</p>
+<p>Down goes Napoleon to the ground,<br>
+And away goes the Pope from Rome!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">71</span>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXVIII" id = "chapXVIII">
+CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+"HE SAVED MY LIFE."</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">"I can't</span> bear this any longer!"
+exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby. "Here you are getting into all sorts of
+difficulties, each one worse than the other. I'm sure I don't see why
+you should. You're very quiet, Minnie dearest, but you have more
+unpleasant adventures than any person I ever heard of. You're run away
+with on horseback, you're shipwrecked, you're swept down a precipice by
+an avalanche, and you fall into the crater of a burning volcano. Every
+time there is some horrid man who saves you, and then proposes. As for
+you, you accept them all with equal readiness, one after another, and
+what is worse, you won't give any of them up. I've asked you explicitly
+which of them you'll give up, and you actually refuse to say. My dear
+child, what are you thinking of? You can't have them all. You can't have
+any of them. None of them are agreeable to your family. They're horrid.
+What are you going to do? Oh, how I wish you had dear mamma to take care
+of you! But she is in a better world. And here is poor dear papa who
+can't come. How shocked he would be if he knew all. What is worst, here
+is that dreadful American savage, who is gradually killing me. He
+certainly will be my death. What <i>am</i> I to do, dear? Can't you
+possibly show a little sense yourself&mdash;only a little,
+dear&mdash;and have some consideration for your poor sister? Even Ethel
+worries about you, though she has troubles of her own, poor darling; and
+aunty is really quite ill with anxiety. What <i>are</i> we going to do?
+I know one thing. <i>I'm</i> not going to put up with it. My mind is
+made up. I'll leave Rome at once, and go home and tell papa."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you needn't scold so," said Minnie. "It's my trouble. I can't
+help it. They would come. I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know what to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you needn't be so awfully kind to them all. That's what
+encourages them so. It's no use for me to try to keep them away if you
+make them all so welcome. Now there's that dreadful Italian. I'm
+positive he's going to get up some unpleasant plot. These Italians are
+so very revengeful. And he thinks you're so fond of him, and I'm so
+opposed. And he's right, too. You always act as if you're fond of him,
+and all the rest. As to that terrible American savage, I'm afraid to
+think of him; I positively am."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you needn't be so awfully unkind to him. He saved my
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"That's no reason why he should deprive me of mine, which he will do
+if he goes on so much longer."</p>
+
+<p>"You were very, very rude to him, Kitty," said Minnie, severely, "and
+very, very unkind&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I intended to be so."</p>
+
+<p>"I really felt like crying, and running out and explaining
+things."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">71b</span>
+
+<p>"I know you did, and ran back and locked the door. Oh, you wretched
+little silly goose, what <i>am</i> I <i>ever</i> to do with such a child
+as you are! You're really not a bit better than a baby."</p>
+
+<p>This conversation took place on the day following the Baron's last
+eventful call. Poor Mrs. Willoughby was driven to desperation, and lay
+awake all night, trying to think of some plan to baffle the enemy, but
+was unsuccessful; and so she tried once more to have some influence over
+Minnie by a remonstrance as sharp as she could give.</p>
+
+<p>"He's an American savage. I believe he's an Indian."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't see any thing savage in him. He's as gentle and as
+kind as he can be. And he's so awfully fond of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Think how he burst in here, forcing his way in, and taking
+possession of the house. And then poor dear aunty! Oh, how she
+<i>was</i> shocked and horrified!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's because he is so <i>awfully</i> fond of me, and was so
+perfectly <i>crazy</i> to see me."</p>
+
+<p>"And then, just as I was beginning to persuade him to go away
+quietly, to think of you coming down!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I couldn't bear to have him so sad, when he saved my life, and
+so I just thought I'd show myself, so as to put him at ease."</p>
+
+<p>"A pretty way to show yourself&mdash;to let a great, horrid man treat
+you so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's what they <i>all</i> do," said Minnie, plaintively.
+"I'm sure <i>I</i> can't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! was there ever such a child! Why, Minnie darling, you must
+know that such things are very, very ill-bred, and very, very indelicate
+and unrefined. And then, think how he came forcing himself upon us when
+we were driving. Couldn't he see that he wasn't wanted? No, he's a
+savage. And then, how he kept giving us all a history of his life. Every
+body could hear him, and people stared so that it was really quite
+shocking."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's because he is so very, very frank. He has none of the
+deceit of society, you know, Kitty darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Deceit of society! I should think not. Only think how he acted
+yesterday&mdash;forcing his way in and rushing up stairs. Why, it's
+actually quite frightful. He's like a madman. We will have to keep all
+the doors locked, and send for the police. Why, do you know, Ethel says
+that he was here before, running about and shouting in the same way:
+'Min!' 'Min!' 'Min!'&mdash;that's what the horrid wretch calls you
+&mdash;'Min! it's me.' 'Come, Min!'"</p>
+
+<p>At this Minnie burst into a peal of merry, musical laughter, and
+laughed on till the tears came to her eyes. Her sister looked more
+disgusted than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"He's such a boy," said Minnie; "he's just like a boy. He's so
+<i>aw</i>fully funny. If I'm a child, he's a big boy, and the awfullest,
+funniest boy I ever saw. And then he's <i>so</i> fond of me. Why, he
+worships me. Oh, it's awfully nice."</p>
+
+<p>"A boy! A beast, you mean&mdash;a horrid savage.
+<span class = "pagenum">72</span>
+What <i>can</i> I do? I must send for a policeman. I'll certainly have
+the doors all locked. And then we'll all be prisoners."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, it'll all be your own fault, for <i>I</i> don't want to
+have any doors locked."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" sighed her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't. And I think you're very unkind."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you silly child, he'd come here some day, carry you off, and
+make you marry him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do wish he would," said Minnie, gravely. "I wish somebody
+would, for then it would put a stop to all this worry, and I really
+don't know what else ever will. Do <i>you</i>, now, Kitty darling?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby turned away with a gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>An hour or two after some letters were brought in, one of which was
+addressed to</p>
+
+<p><span class = "pad">&nbsp; </span><span class = "smallcaps">Miss
+Fay</span>,<br>
+<span class = "pad">&nbsp; &nbsp; </span><i>Poste Restante</i>,<br>
+<span class = "pad">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</span><i>Roma</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie opened this, and looked over it with a troubled air. Then she
+spoke to her sister, and they both went off to Minnie's room.</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you think this is from?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know! Of course it's some more trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"It's from Captain Kirby."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course! And of course he's here in Rome?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he isn't."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Not yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; but he wrote this from London. He has been to the house, and
+learned that we had gone to Italy. He says he has sent off letters to
+me, directed to every city in Italy, so that I may be sure to get it.
+Isn't that good of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, repressing an exclamation of
+vexation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he says that in three days he will leave, and go first to
+Rome, as he thinks we will be most likely to be there this season. And
+so, you see, he's coming on; and he will be here in three days, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie," said her sister, after some moments' solemn thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Kitty darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ever think?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like one of these gentlemen of yours to blow one of the
+others' brains out, or stab him, or any thing of that sort?"</p>
+
+<p>"How shocking you are, Kitty dear! What a dreadful question!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, understand me now. One of them <i>will</i> do that. There will
+be trouble, and your name will be associated with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Minnie, "I know who <i>won't</i> be shot."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Rufus K. Gunn," said she, in the funny, prim way in which she
+always pronounced that name. "If he finds it out, he'll drive all the
+others away."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">72b</span>
+
+<p>"And would you like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, he's awfully fond of me, and he's so like a boy: and
+if I'm such a child, I could do better with a man, you know, that's like
+a boy, you know, than&mdash;than&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! He's a madman, and you're a simpleton, you little
+goose."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, we must be well suited to one another," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, child, listen," said Mrs. Willoughby, firmly. "I intend to put
+a stop to this. I have made up my mind positively to leave Rome, and
+take you home to papa. I'll tell him all about it, put you under his
+care, and have no more responsibility with you. I think he'd better send
+you back to school. I've been too gentle. You need a firm hand. I'll be
+firm for a few days, till you can go to papa. You need not begin to cry.
+It's for your own good. If you're indulged any more, you'll simply go to
+ruin."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby's tone was different from usual, and Minnie was
+impressed by it. She saw that her sister was resolved. So she stole up
+to her and twined her arms about her and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"There, there," said her sister, kissing her again, "don't look so
+sad, Minnie darling. It's for your own good. We must go away, or else
+you'll have another of those dreadful people. You must trust to me now,
+dearest, and not interfere with me in any way."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, you mustn't be unkind to poor Rufus K. Gunn," said
+Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Unkind? Why, we won't be any thing to him at all."</p>
+
+<p>"And am I never to&mdash;to&mdash;see him again?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" said her sister, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie started, and looked at Mrs. Willoughby, and saw in her face a
+fixed resolution.</p>
+
+<p>"No, never!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby. "I am going to take you back
+to England. I'm afraid to take any railroad or steamboat. I'll hire a
+carriage, and we'll all go in a quiet way to Florence. Then we can take
+the railroad to Leghorn, and go home by the way of Marseilles. No one
+will know that we've gone away. They'll think we have gone on an
+excursion. Now we'll go out driving this morning, and this afternoon we
+must keep the outer door locked, and not let any one in. I suppose there
+is no danger of meeting him in the morning. He must be on duty
+then."</p>
+
+<p>"But mayn't I see him at all before we go?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just once&mdash;only once?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not once. You've seen that horrid man for the last time."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie again looked at her sister, and again read her resolution in
+her face. She turned away, her head dropped, a sob escaped from her, and
+then she burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby left the room.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">73</span>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXIX" id = "chapXIX">
+CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+JEALOUSY.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Lord</span> Hawbury had come to Rome for
+the sole purpose of watching over his friend Scone Dacres. But he had
+not found it so easy to do so. His friend kept by himself more than he
+used to, and for several days Hawbury had seen nothing of him. Once
+while with the ladies he had met him, and noticed the sadness and the
+gloom of his brow. He saw by this that he was still a prey to those
+feelings the exhibition of which had alarmed him at Naples, and made him
+resolve to accompany him here.</p>
+
+<p>A few days afterward, while Hawbury was in his room, his friend
+entered. Hawbury arose and greeted him with unfeigned joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man," he said, "you've kept yourself close, too. What have
+you been doing with yourself? I've only had one glimpse of you for an
+age. Doing Rome, hey? Antiquities, arts, churches, palaces, and all that
+sort of thing, I suppose. Come now, old boy, sit down and give an
+account of yourself. Have a weed? Here's Bass in prime order. Light up,
+my dear fellow, and let me look at you as you compose your manly form
+for a friendly smoke. And don't speak till you feel inclined."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres took his seat with a melancholy smile, and selecting a cigar,
+lighted it, and smoked in silence for some time.</p>
+
+<p>"Who was that Zouave fellow?" he asked at length: "the fellow that I
+saw riding by the carriage the other day?"</p>
+
+<p>"That&mdash;oh, an old friend of mine. He's an American named Gunn.
+He's joined the Papal Zouaves from some whim, and a deuced good thing it
+is for them to get hold of such a man. I happened to call one day, and
+found him with the ladies."</p>
+
+<p>"The ladies&mdash;ah!" and Dacres's eyes lighted up with a bad, hard
+light. "I suppose he's another of those precious cavaliers&mdash;the
+scum of all lands&mdash;that dance attendance on my charming wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, see here now, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "none
+of that, you know. This fellow is a friend of <i>mine</i>, and one of
+the best fellows I ever saw. You'd like him, old chap. He'd suit
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and suit my wife better," said Dacres, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come now, really, my dear boy, you're completely out. He don't
+know your wife at all. It's the other one, you know. Don't be jealous,
+now, if I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Jealous!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I know your weakness, you know; but this is an old affair. I
+don't want to violate confidence, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres looked hard at his friend and breathed heavily. He was
+evidently much excited.</p>
+
+<p>"But what?" he said, hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, it's an old affair. It's the young one, you
+know&mdash;Miss Fay. He rather affects her, you know. That's about
+it."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">73b</span>
+
+<p>"Miss Fay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; your child-angel, you know. But it's an older affair than
+yours; it is, really; so don't be giving way, man. Besides, his claims
+on her are as great as yours; yes, greater too. By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Fay! Oh, is that all?" said Dacres, who, with a sigh of
+infinite relief, shook off all his late excitement, and became cool once
+more.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury noted this very thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Dacres, "that terrible wife of mine is so cursedly
+beautiful and fascinating, and so infernally fond of admiration, that
+she keeps no end of fellows tagging at her heels. And so I didn't know
+but that this was some new admirer. Oh, she's a deep one! Her new style,
+which she has been cultivating for ten years, has made her look like an
+angel of light. Why, there's the very light of heaven in her eyes, and
+in her face there is nothing, I swear, but gentleness and purity and
+peace. Oh, had she but been what she now seems! Oh, if even now I could
+but believe this, I would even now fling my memories to the winds, and
+I'd lie down in the dust and let her trample on me, if she would only
+give me that tender and gentle love that now lurks in her face. Good
+Heavens! can such a change be possible? No; it's impossible! It can't
+be! Don't I know her? Can't I remember her? Is my memory all a dream?
+No, it's real; and it's marked deep by this scar that I wear. Never till
+that scar is obliterated can that woman change."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres had been speaking, as he often did now, half to himself; and
+as he ended he rubbed his hand over the place where the scar lay, as
+though to soothe the inflammation that arose from the rush of angry
+blood to his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear boy, I can only say I wish from my heart that her nature
+was like her face. She's no favorite of mine, for your story has made me
+look on her with your eyes, and I never have spoken to her except in the
+most distant way; but I must say I think her face has in it a good deal
+of that gentleness which you mention. Miss Fay treats her quite like an
+elder sister, and is deuced fond of her, too. I can see that. So she
+can't be very fiendish to her. Like loves like, you know, and the one
+that the child-angel loves ought to be a little of an angel herself,
+oughtn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres was silent for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"There's that confounded Italian," said he, "dangling forever at her
+heels&mdash;the devil that saved her life. He must be her accepted
+lover, you know. He goes out riding beside the carriage."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, my dear fellow, she doesn't seem overjoyed by his
+attentions."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's her art. She's so infernally deep. Do you think she'd let
+the world see her feelings? Never. Slimy, Sir, and cold and subtle and
+venomous and treacherous&mdash;a beautiful serpent. Aha! isn't that the
+way to hit her off? Yes, a beautiful, malignant, venomous
+<span class = "pagenum">74</span>
+serpent, with fascination in her eyes, and death and anguish in her
+bite. But she shall find out yet that others are not without power.
+Confound her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, by Jove! old boy, I think the very best thing you can do
+is to go away somewhere, and get rid of these troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"Go away! Can I go away from my own thoughts? Hawbury, the trouble is
+in my own heart. I must keep near her. There's that Italian devil. He
+shall not have her. I'll watch them, as I have watched them, till I find
+a chance for revenge."</p>
+
+<p>"You have watched them, then?" asked Hawbury, in great surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, both of them. I've seen the Italian prowling about where she
+lives. I've seen her on her balcony, evidently watching for him."</p>
+
+<p>"But have you seen any thing more? This is only your fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy! Didn't I see her herself standing on the balcony looking
+down. I was concealed by the shadow of a fountain, and she couldn't see
+me. She turned her face, and I saw it in that soft, sweet, gentle beauty
+which she has cultivated so wonderfully. I swear it seemed like the face
+of an angel, and I could have worshiped it. If she could have seen my
+face in that thick shadow she would have thought I was an adorer of
+hers, like the Italian&mdash;ha, ha!&mdash;instead of a pursuer, and an
+enemy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be hanged if I can tell myself which you are, old boy;
+but, at any rate, I'm glad to be able to state that your trouble will
+soon be over."</p>
+
+<p>"How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's going away."</p>
+
+<p>"Going away!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"She! going away! where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Back to England."</p>
+
+<p>"Back to England! why, she's just come here. What's that for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I only know they're all going home. Well, you know,
+holy week's over, and there is no object for them to stay longer."</p>
+
+<p>"Going away! going away!" replied Dacres, slowly. "Who told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Fay."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't believe it."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no doubt about it, my dear boy. Miss Fay told me explicitly.
+She said they were going in a carriage by the way of Civita
+Castellana."</p>
+
+<p>"What are they going that way for? What nonsense! I don't believe
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's a fact. Besides, they evidently don't want it to be
+known."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked Dacres, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"I say they don't seem to want it to be known. Miss Fay told me in
+her childish way, and I saw that Mrs. Willoughby looked vexed, and tried
+to stop her."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">74b</span>
+
+<p>"Tried to stop her! Ah! Who were there? Were you calling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no&mdash;it was yesterday morning. I was riding, and, to my
+surprise, met them. They were driving&mdash;Mrs. Willoughby and Miss
+Fay, you know&mdash;so I chatted with them a few moments, or rather with
+Miss Fay, and hoped I would see them again soon, at some <i>fête</i> or
+other, when she told me this."</p>
+
+<p>"And my wife tried to stop her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And looked vexed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was some secret of <i>hers</i>. <i>She</i> has some reason
+for keeping dark. The other has none. Aha! don't I understand her? She
+wants to keep it from <i>me</i>. She knows you're my friend, and was
+vexed that you should know. Aha! she dreads my presence. She knows I'm
+on her track. She wants to get away with her Italian&mdash;away from my
+sight. Aha! the tables are turned at last. Aha! my lady. Now we'll see.
+Now take your Italian and fly, and see how far you can get away from me.
+Take him, and see if you can hold him. Aha! my angel face, my mild, soft
+eyes of love, but devil's heart&mdash;can not I understand it all? I see
+through it. I've watched, you. Wait till you see Scone Dacres on your
+track!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's that? You don't really mean it?" cried Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you follow her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will."</p>
+
+<p>"What for? For a vague fancy of your jealous mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a fancy; it's a certainty. I've seen the Italian dogging
+her, dodging about her house, and riding with her. I've seen her looking
+very much as if she were expecting him at her balcony. Is all that
+nothing? She's seen me, and feels conscience-stricken, and longs to get
+away where she may be free from the terror of my presence. But I'll
+track her. I'll strike at her&mdash;at her heart, too; for I will strike
+through the Italian."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will, I swear!" cried Dacres, gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"You're mad, Dacres. You imagine all this. You're like a madman in a
+dream."</p>
+
+<p>"It's no dream. I'll follow her. I'll track her."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, by Jove, you'll have to take me with you, old boy! I see
+you're not fit to take care of yourself. I'll have to go and keep you
+from harm."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't keep me from harm, old chap," said Dacres, more gently;
+"but I'd be glad if you would go. So come along."</p>
+
+<p>"I will, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+<div class = "null">
+<span class = "pagenum">75</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic075.png" width = "214" height = "285"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"I WATCHED HIM."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXX" id = "chapXX">
+CHAPTER XX.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE BARON'S WOES.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Dacres</span> was not the only excited
+visitor that Hawbury had that day. Before its close another made his
+appearance in the person of the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my noble friend," cried Hawbury&mdash;"my Baron bold&mdash;how
+goes it? But, by Jove! what's the matter, my boy? Your brow deep scars
+of thunder have intrenched, and care sits on your faded cheek. Pour
+forth the mournful tale. I'll sympathize."</p>
+
+<p>"I swear it's too almighty bad!" cried the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"The way I'm getting humbugged."</p>
+
+<p>"Humbugged! Who's been humbugging you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Darn me if I know; and that's the worst of it by a thundering
+sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear fellow, if I can help you, you'd better let me know
+what it's all about."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Minnie; that's the row. There ain't another thing on this green
+earth that would trouble me for five seconds."</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie? Oh! And what has happened&mdash;a lover's quarrel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a quarrel. <i>She's</i> all right."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, she's disappeared."</p>
+
+<p>"Disappeared! What do you mean by that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Darn me if I know. I only know this, that they keep their place
+bolted and barred, and they've muffled the bell, and there's no servant
+to be seen, and I can't find out any thing about them. And it's too
+almighty bad. Now isn't it?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">75b</span>
+
+<p>"It's deuced odd, too&mdash;queer, by Jove! I don't understand. Are
+you sure they're all locked up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Course I am."</p>
+
+<p>"And no servants?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a darned servant."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ask the concierge?"</p>
+
+<p>"Course I did; and crossed his palm, too. But he didn't give me any
+satisfaction."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he said they were at home, for they had been out in the
+morning, and had got back again. Well, after that I went back and nearly
+knocked the door down. And that was no good; I didn't get a word. The
+concierge swore they were in, and they wouldn't so much as answer me.
+Now I call that too almighty hard, and I'd like to know what in thunder
+they all mean by it."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! odd, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, I thought after a while that it would be all
+explained the next day; so I went home and waited, and came back the
+next afternoon. I tried it over again. Same result. I spoke to the
+concierge again, and he swore again that they were all in. They had been
+out in the morning, he said, and looked well. They had come home by
+noon, and had gone to their rooms. Well, I really did start the door
+that time, but didn't get any answer for my pains."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I was pretty hard up, I tell you. But I wasn't going to give
+up. So I staid there, and began a siege. I crossed the concierge's palm
+again, and was in and out all night. Toward morning I took a nap in his
+chair. He thought it was some government business or other, and assisted
+me all he could. I didn't see any thing at all though, except an
+infernal Italian&mdash;a fellow that came calling the first day I was
+there, and worked himself in between me and Min. He was prowling about
+there, with another fellow, and stared hard at me. I watched him, and
+said nothing, for I wanted to find out his little game. He's up to
+something, I swear. When he saw I was on the ground, though, he beat a
+retreat.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I staid all night, and the next morning watched again. I
+didn't knock. It wasn't a bit of use&mdash;not a darned bit.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, about nine o'clock the door opened, and I saw some one looking
+out very cautiously. In a minute I was standing before her, and held out
+my hand to shake hers. It was the old lady. But she didn't shake hands.
+She looked at me quite coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good-morning, ma'am,' said I, in quite a winning voice.
+'Good-morning, ma'am.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Good-morning,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>"'I come to see Minnie,' said I.</p>
+
+<p>"'To see Minnie!' said she: and then she told me she wasn't up.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ain't up?' said I; 'and it so bright and early! Why, what's got
+her? Well, you just
+<span class = "pagenum">76</span>
+go and tell her <i>I'm</i> here, and I'll just step inside and wait till
+she comes down,' said I.</p>
+
+<p>"But the old lady didn't budge.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm not a servant,' she said, very stiff; 'I'm her aunt, and her
+guardian, and I allow no messages to pass between her and strange
+gentlemen.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Strange gentlemen!' I cried. 'Why, ain't I engaged to her?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I don't know you,' says she.</p>
+
+<p>"'Wasn't I introduced to you?' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"'No,' says she; 'I don't know you.'</p>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic076.png" width = "346" height = "458"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"BUT I SAVED HER LIFE."</p>
+
+<p>"'But I'm engaged to Minnie,' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"'I don't recognize you,' says she. 'The family know nothing about
+you; and my niece is a silly girl, who is going back to her father, who
+will probably send her to school.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But I saved her life,' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"'That's very possible,' says she; 'many persons have done so; yet
+that gives you no right to annoy her; and you shall <i>not</i> annoy
+her. Your engagement is an absurdity. The child herself is an absurdity.
+<i>You</i> are an absurdity. Was it not you who was creating such a
+frightful disturbance here yesterday?
+<span class = "pagenum">76b</span>
+Let me inform you, Sir, that if you repeat it, you will be handed over
+to the police. The police would certainly have been called yesterday had
+we not wished to avoid hurting your feelings. We now find that you have
+no feelings to hurt.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Very well, ma'am,' says I; 'these are your views; but as you are
+not Minnie, I don't accept them. I won't retire from the field till I
+hear a command to that effect from Minnie herself. I allow no relatives
+to stand between me and my love. Show me Minnie, and let me hear what
+she has to say. That's all I ask, and that's fair and square.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You shall not see her at all,' says the old lady, quite mild; 'not
+at all. You must not come again, for you will not be admitted. Police
+will be here to put you out if you attempt to force an entrance as you
+did before.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Force an entrance!' I cried.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' she said, 'force an entrance. You did so, and you filled the
+whole house with your shouts. Is that to be borne? Not by us, Sir. And
+now go, and don't disturb us any more.'</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">77</span>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be darned if I ever felt so cut up in my life. The old
+lady was perfectly calm and cool; wasn't a bit scared&mdash;though there
+was no reason why she should be. She just gave it to me that way. But
+when she accused me of forcing an entrance and kicking up a row, I was
+struck all of a heap and couldn't say a word. <i>Me</i> force an
+entrance! <i>Me</i> kick up a row! And in Minnie's house! Why, the old
+woman's mad!</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the old lady shut the door in my face, and I walked off; and
+I've been ever since trying to understand it, but I'll be darned if I
+can make head or tail of it. The only thing I see is that they're all
+keeping Minnie locked up away from me. They don't like me, though why
+they don't I can't see; for I'm as good as any body, and I've been
+particular about being civil to all of them. Still they don't like me,
+and they see that Minnie does, and they're trying to break up the
+engagement. But by the living jingo!" and the Baron clinched a
+good-sized and very sinewy fist, which he brought down hard on the
+table&mdash;"by the living jingo, they'll find they can't come it over
+<i>me</i>! No, <i>Sir</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is she fond of you&mdash;Miss Fay, I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fond! Course she is. She dotes on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! As sure as I am of my own existence. Why, the way she looks at
+me is enough! She has a look of helpless trust, an innocent confidence,
+a tender, child-like faith and love, and a beseeching, pleading,
+imploring way that tells me she is mine through and through."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury was a little surprised. He thought he had heard something
+like that before.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," said he, "that's the chief thing, you know. If you're
+sure of the girl's affections, the battle's half won."</p>
+
+<p>"Half won! Ain't it all won?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, not exactly. You see, with us English, there are ever so many
+considerations."</p>
+
+<p>"But with us Americans there is only one consideration, and that is,
+Do you love me? Still, if her relatives are particular about dollars, I
+can foot up as many thousands as her old man, I dare say; and then, if
+they care for rank, why, I'm a Baron!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what's more, old boy," said Hawbury, earnestly, "if they wanted
+a valiant, stout, true, honest, loyal soul, they needn't go further than
+Rufus K. Gunn, Baron de Atramonte."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron's face flushed.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury," said he, "that's good in you. We've tried one another,
+haven't we? You're a brick! And I don't need <i>you</i> to tell
+<i>me</i> what you think of me. But if you could get a word into the ear
+of that cantankerous old lady, and just let her know what <i>you</i>
+know about me, it might move her. You see you're after her style, and
+I'm not; and she can't see any thing but a man's manner, which, after
+all, varies in all countries. Now if you could speak a word for me,
+Hawbury&mdash;"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">77b</span>
+
+<p>"By Jove! my dear fellow, I'd be glad to do so&mdash;I swear I would;
+but you don't appear to know that I won't have the chance. They're all
+going to leave Rome to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron started as though he had been shot.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" he cried, hoarsely. "What's that? Leave Rome?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And to-morrow morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; Miss Fay told me herself&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Fay told you herself! By Heaven! What do they mean by that?"
+And the Baron sat trembling with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the holy week's over."</p>
+
+<p>"Darn it all, that's got nothing to do with it! It's me! They're
+trying to get her from me! How are they going? Do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are going in a carriage by the way of Civita Castellana."</p>
+
+<p>"In a carriage by the way of Civita Castellana! Darn that old idiot
+of a woman! what's she up to now? If she's running away from me, she'll
+wish herself back before she gets far on that road. Why, there's an
+infernal nest of brigands there that call themselves Garibaldians; and,
+by thunder, the woman's crazy! They'll be seized and held to
+ransom&mdash;perhaps worse. Heavens! I'll go mad! I'll run and tell
+them. But no; they won't see me. What'll I do? And Minnie! I can't give
+her up. She can't give me up. She's a poor, trembling little creature;
+her whole life hangs on mine. Separation from me would kill her. Poor
+little girl! Separation! By thunder, they shall never separate us! What
+devil makes the old woman go by that infernal road? Brigands all the
+way! But I'll go after them; I'll follow them. They'll find it almighty
+hard work to keep her from me! I'll see her, by thunder! and I'll get
+her out of their clutches! I swear I will! I'll bring her back here to
+Rome, and I'll get the Pope himself to bind her to me with a knot that
+all the old women under heaven can never loosen!"</p>
+
+<p>"What! You're going? By Jove! that's odd, for I'm going with a friend
+on the same road."</p>
+
+<p>"Good again! Three cheers! And you'll see the old woman, and speak a
+good word for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I see her and get a chance, I certainly will, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXI" id = "chapXXI">
+CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+AN EVENTFUL JOURNEY.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">On</span> the day following two carriages
+rolled out of Rome, and took the road toward Florence by the way of
+Civita Castellana. One carriage held four ladies; the other one was
+occupied by four lady's-maids and the luggage of the party.</p>
+
+<p>It was early morning, and over the wide Campagna there still hung
+mists, which were dissipated gradually as the sun arose. As they
+<span class = "pagenum">78</span>
+went on the day advanced, and with the departing mists there opened up a
+wide view. On either side extended the desolate Campagna, over which
+passed lines of ruined aqueducts on their way from the hills to the
+city. Here and there crumbling ruins arose above the plain&mdash;some
+ancient, others medieval, none modern. Before them, in the distance,
+arose the Apennines, among which were, here and there, visible the white
+outlines of some villa or hamlet.</p>
+
+<p>For mile after mile they drove on; and the drive soon proved very
+monotonous. It was nothing but one long and unvarying plain, with this
+only change, that every mile brought them nearer to the mountains. As
+the mountains were their only hope, they all looked forward eagerly to
+the time when they would arrive there and wind along the road among
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Formerly Mrs. Willoughby alone had been the confidante of Minnie's
+secret, but the events of the past few days had disclosed most of her
+troubles to the other ladies also, at least as far as the general
+outlines were concerned. The consequence was, that they all knew
+perfectly well the reason why they were traveling in this way, and
+Minnie knew that they all knew it. Yet this unpleasant consciousness did
+not in the least interfere with the sweetness of her temper and the
+gentleness of her manner. She sat there, with a meek smile and a
+resigned air, as though the only part now left her in life was the
+patient endurance of her unmerited wrongs. She blamed no one; she made
+no complaint; yet there was in her attitude something so touching, so
+clinging, so pathetic, so forlorn, and in her face something so sweet,
+so sad, so reproachful, and so piteous, that she enforced sympathy; and
+each one began to have a half-guilty fear that Minnie had been wronged
+by her. Especially did Mrs. Willoughby feel this. She feared that she
+had neglected the artless and simple-minded child; she feared that she
+had not been sufficiently thoughtful about her; and now longed to do
+something to make amends
+<span class = "pagenum">78b</span>
+for this imaginary neglect. So she sought to make the journey as
+pleasant as possible by cheerful remarks and lively observations. None
+of these things, however, produced any effect upon the attitude of
+Minnie. She sat there, with unalterable sweetness and unvarying
+patience, just like a holy martyr, who freely forgave all her enemies,
+and was praying for those who had despitefully used her.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic078.png" width = "447" height = "217"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+THE PROCESSION ACROSS THE CAMPAGNA.</p>
+
+<p>The exciting events consequent upon the Baron's appearance, and his
+sudden revelation in the role of Minnie's lover, had exercised a strong
+and varied effect upon all; but upon one its result was wholly
+beneficial, and this was Ethel. It was so startling and so unexpected
+that it had roused her from her gloom, and given her something to think
+of. The Baron's debut in their parlor had been narrated to her over and
+over by each of the three who had witnessed it, and each gave the
+narrative her own coloring. Lady Dalrymple's account was humorous; Mrs.
+Willoughby's indignant; Minnie's sentimental. Out of all these Ethel
+gained a fourth idea, compounded of these three, which again blended
+with another, and an original one of her own, gained from a personal
+observation of the Baron, whose appearance on the stairs and impatient
+summons for "Min" were very vividly impressed on her memory. In addition
+to this there was the memory of that day on which they endeavored to
+fight off the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>That was, indeed, a memorable day, and was now alluded to by them all
+as the day of the siege. It was not without difficulty that they had
+withstood Minnie's earnest protestations, and intrenched themselves. But
+Mrs. Willoughby was obdurate, and Minnie's tears, which flowed freely,
+were unavailing.</p>
+
+<p>Then there came the first knock of the impatient and aggressive
+visitor, followed by others in swift succession, and in ever-increasing
+power. Every knock went to Minnie's heart. It excited an unlimited
+amount of sympathy for the one who had saved her life, and was now
+excluded from her door. But as the knocks
+<span class = "pagenum">79</span>
+grew violent and imperative, and Minnie grew sad and pitiful, the other
+ladies grew indignant. Lady Dalrymple was on the point of sending off
+for the police, and only Minnie's frantic entreaties prevented this. At
+last the door seemed almost beaten in, and their feelings underwent a
+change. They were convinced that he was mad, or else intoxicated. Of the
+madness of love they did not think. Once convinced that he was mad, they
+became terrified. The maids all hid themselves. None of them now would
+venture out even to call the police. They expected that the concierge
+would interpose, but in vain. The concierge was bribed.</p>
+
+<p>After a very eventful day night came. They heard footsteps pacing up
+and down, and knew that it was their tormentor. Minnie's heart again
+melted with tender pity for the man whose love for her had turned his
+head, and she begged to be allowed to speak to him. But this was not
+permitted. So she went to bed and fell asleep. So, in process of time,
+did the others, and the night passed without any trouble. Then morning
+came, and there was a debate as to who should confront the enemy. There
+was no noise, but they knew that he was there. At last Lady Dalrymple
+summoned up her energies, and went forth to do battle. The result has
+already been described in the words of the bold Baron himself.</p>
+
+<p>But even this great victory did not reassure the ladies. Dreading
+another visit, they hurried away to a hotel, leaving the maids to follow
+with the luggage as soon as possible. On the following morning they had
+left the city.</p>
+
+<p>Events so very exciting as these had produced a very natural effect
+upon the mind of Ethel. They had thrown her thoughts out of their old
+groove, and fixed them in a new one. Besides, the fact that she was
+actually leaving the man who had caused her so much sorrow was already a
+partial relief. She had dreaded meeting him so much that she had been
+forced to keep herself a prisoner. A deep grief still remained in her
+heart; but, at any rate, there was now some pleasure to be felt, if only
+of a superficial kind.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mrs. Willoughby, in spite of her self-reproach about her
+purely imaginary neglect of Minnie, she felt such an extraordinary
+relief that it affected all her nature. The others might feel fatigue
+from the journey. Not she. She was willing to continue the journey for
+an indefinite period, so long as she had the sweet consciousness that
+she was bearing Minnie farther and farther away from the grasp of "that
+horrid man." The consequence was, that she was lively, lovely,
+brilliant, cheerful, and altogether delightful. She was as tender to
+Minnie as a mother could be. She was lavish in her promises of what she
+would do for her. She chatted gayly with Ethel about a thousand things,
+and was delighted to find that Ethel reciprocated. She rallied Lady
+Dalrymple on her silence, and congratulated her over and over, in spite
+of Minnie's frowns, on the success
+<span class = "pagenum">79b</span>
+of her generalship. And so at last the weary Campagna was traversed, and
+the two carriages began to ascend among the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Several other travelers were passing over that Campagna road, and in
+the same direction. They were not near enough for their faces to be
+discerned, but the ladies could look back and see the signs of their
+presence. First there was a carriage with two men, and about two miles
+behind another carriage with two other men; while behind these, again,
+there rode a solitary horseman, who was gradually gaining on the other
+travelers.</p>
+
+<p>Now, if it had been possible for Mrs. Willoughby to look back and
+discern the faces of the travelers who were moving along the road behind
+her, what a sudden overturn there would have been in her feelings, and
+what a blight would have fallen upon her spirits! But Mrs. Willoughby
+remained in the most blissful ignorance of the persons of these
+travelers, and so was able to maintain the sunshine of her soul.</p>
+
+<p>At length there came over that sunny soul the first cloud.</p>
+
+<p>The solitary horseman, who had been riding behind, had overtaken the
+different carriages.</p>
+
+<p>The first carriage contained Lord Hawbury and Scone Dacres. As the
+horseman passed, he recognized them with a careless nod and smile.</p>
+
+<p>Scone Dacres grasped Lord Hawbury's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see him?" he cried. "The Italian! I thought so! What do you
+say now? Wasn't I right?"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" cried Lord Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Dacres relapsed into silence, sitting upright, glaring
+after the horseman, cherishing in his gloomy soul the darkest and most
+vengeful thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>The horseman rode on further, and overtook the next carriage. In this
+there were two men, one in the uniform of the Papal Zouaves, the other
+in rusty black. He turned toward these, and greeted them with the same
+nod and smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see that man, parson?" said the Baron to his companion. "Do
+you recognize him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you saw him at Minnie's house. He came in."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't he? No. By thunder, it wasn't that time. Well, at any rate,
+that man, I believe, is at the bottom of the row. It's my belief that
+he's trying to cut me out, and he'll find he's got a hard row to hoe
+before he succeeds in that project."</p>
+
+<p>And with these words the Baron sat glaring after the Italian, with
+something in his eye that resembled faintly the fierce glance of Scone
+Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>The Italian rode on. A few miles further were the two carriages.
+Minnie and her sister were sitting on the front seats, and saw the
+<span class = "pagenum">80</span>
+stranger as he advanced. He soon came near enough to be distinguished,
+and Mrs. Willoughby recognized Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>Her surprise was so great that she uttered an exclamation of terror,
+which startled the other ladies, and made them all look in that
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>"How very odd!" said Ethel, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And now I suppose you'll all go and say that I brought <i>him</i>
+too," said Minnie. "That's <i>always</i> the way you do. You
+<i>never</i> seem to think that I may be innocent. You <i>always</i>
+blame me for every little mite of a thing that may happen."</p>
+
+<p>No one made any remark, and there was silence in the carriage as the
+stranger approached. The ladies bowed somewhat coolly, except Minnie,
+who threw upon him the most imploring look that could possibly be sent
+from human eyes, and the Italian's impressible nature thrilled before
+those beseeching, pleading, earnest, unfathomable, tender, helpless,
+innocent orbs. Removing his hat, he bowed low.</p>
+
+<p>"I haf not been awara," he said, politely, in his broken English,
+"that youar ladysippa's bin intend to travalla. Ees eet not subito
+intenzion?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby made a polite response of a general character, the
+Italian paused a moment to drink in deep draughts from Minnie's great
+beseeching eyes that were fixed upon his, and then, with a low bow, he
+passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I'm losing my senses," said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Kitty darling?" asked Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how it is, but I actually trembled when that man came
+up, and I haven't got over it yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't see why," said Minnie. "You're <i>always</i>
+imagining things, though. Now <i>isn't</i> she, Ethel dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, I don't see much in the Count to make one tremble. I
+suppose poor dear Kitty has been too much agitated lately, and it's her
+poor nerves."</p>
+
+<p>"I have my lavender, Kitty dear," said Lady Dalrymple. "Won't you
+take it? Or would you prefer valerian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, much, but I do not need it," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I
+suppose it will pass off."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure the poor Count never did any body any harm," said Minnie,
+plaintively; "so you needn't all abuse him so&mdash;unless you're all
+angry at him for saving my life. I remember a time when you all thought
+very differently, and all praised him up, no end."</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Minnie darling, I have nothing against the Count, only once
+he was a little too intrusive; but he seems to have got over that; and
+if he'll only be nice and quiet and proper, I'm sure I've nothing to say
+against him."</p>
+
+<p>They drove on for some time, and at length reached Civita Castellana.
+Here they drove up to the hotel, and the ladies got out and went up to
+their apartments. They had three rooms up stairs, two of which looked
+out into the street,
+<span class = "pagenum">80b</span>
+while the third was in the rear. At the front windows was a balcony.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies now disrobed themselves, and their maids assisted them to
+perform the duties of a very simple toilet. Mrs. Willoughby's was first
+finished. So she walked over to the window, and looked out into the
+street.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a very interesting place, nor was there much to be seen;
+but she took a lazy, languid interest in the sight which met her eyes.
+There were the two carriages. The horses were being led to water. Around
+the carriages was a motley crowd, composed of the poor, the maimed, the
+halt, the blind, forming that realm of beggars which from immemorial
+ages has flourished in Italy. With these was intermingled a crowd of
+ducks, geese, goats, pigs, and ill-looking, mangy, snarling curs.</p>
+
+<p>Upon these Mrs. Willoughby looked for some time, when at length her
+ears were arrested by the roll of wheels down the street. A carriage was
+approaching, in which there were two travelers. One hasty glance
+sufficed, and she turned her attention once more to the ducks, geese,
+goats, dogs, and beggars. In a few minutes the crowd was scattered by
+the newly-arrived carriage. It stopped. A man jumped out. For a moment
+he looked up, staring hard at the windows. That moment was enough. Mrs.
+Willoughby had recognized him.</p>
+
+<p>She rushed away from the windows. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel were in
+this room, and Minnie in the one beyond. All were startled by Mrs.
+Willoughby's exclamation, and still more by her looks.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried they. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He's</i> there! <i>He's</i> there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who? who?" they cried, in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"That horrid man!"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple and Ethel looked at one another in utter horror.</p>
+
+<p>As for Minnie, she burst into the room, peeped out of the windows,
+saw "that horrid man," then ran back, then sat down, then jumped up, and
+then burst into a peal of the merriest laughter that ever was heard from
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm <i>so</i> glad! I'm <i>so</i> glad!" she exclaimed. "Oh,
+it's so <i>aw</i>fully funny. Oh, I'm <i>so</i> glad! Oh, Kitty darling,
+don't, please don't, look so cross. Oh, ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ase don't, Kitty
+darling. You make me laugh worse. It's so <i>aw</i>fully funny!"</p>
+
+<p>But while Minnie laughed thus, the others looked at each other in
+still greater consternation, and for some time there was not one of them
+who knew what to say.</p>
+
+<p>But Lady Dalrymple again threw herself in the gap.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not feel at all nervous, my dears," said she, gravely. "I
+do not think that this person can give us any trouble. He certainly can
+not intrude upon us in these apartments, and on the highway, you know,
+it will be quite as difficult for him to hold any communication
+<span class = "pagenum">81</span>
+with us. So I really don't see any cause for alarm on your part, nor do
+I see why dear Minnie should exhibit such delight."</p>
+
+<p>These words brought comfort to Ethel and Mrs. Willoughby. They at
+once perceived their truth. To force himself into their presence in a
+public hotel was, of course, impossible, even for one so reckless as he
+seemed to be; and on the road he could not trouble them in any way,
+since he would have to drive before them or behind them.</p>
+
+<p>At Lady Dalrymple's reference to herself, Minnie looked up with a
+bright smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You're awfully cross with me, aunty darling," she said; "but I
+forgive you. Only I can't help laughing, you know, to see how frightened
+you all are at poor Rufus K. Gunn. And, Kitty dearest, oh how you
+<i>did</i> run away from the window! It was awfully funny, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>Not long after the arrival of the Baron and his friends another
+carriage drove up. None of the ladies were at the window, and so they
+did not see the easy nonchalance of Hawbury as he lounged into the
+house, or the stern face of Scone Dacres as he strode before him.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic081.png" width = "214" height = "282"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"AS FOR DANGAIRE&mdash;POUF! DERE IS NONE."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXII" id = "chapXXII">
+CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+ADVICE REJECTED.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">During</span> dinner the ladies conversed
+freely about "that horrid man," wondering what plan he would adopt to
+try to effect an entrance among them. They were convinced that some such
+attempt would be made, and the servants of the inn who waited on them
+were strictly charged to see that no one disturbed them. However, their
+dinner was not interrupted and
+<span class = "pagenum">81b</span>
+after it was over they began to think of retiring, so as to leave at an
+early hour on the following morning. Minnie had already taken her
+departure, and the others were thinking of following her example, when a
+knock came at the door.</p>
+
+<p>All started. One of the maids went to the door, and found a servant
+there who brought a message from the Baron Atramonte. He wished to speak
+to the ladies on business of the most urgent importance. At this
+confirmation of their expectations the ladies looked at one another with
+a smile mingled with vexation, and Lady Dalrymple at once sent word that
+they could not possibly see him.</p>
+
+<p>But the Baron was not to be put off. In a few moments the servant
+came back again, and brought another message, of a still more urgent
+character, in which the Baron entreated them to grant him this
+interview, and assured them that it was a matter of life and death.</p>
+
+<p>"He's beginning to be more and more violent," said Lady Dalrymple.
+"Well, dears," she added, resignedly, "in my opinion it will be better
+to see him, and have done with him. If we do not, I'm afraid he will
+pester us further. I will see him. You had better retire to your own
+apartments."</p>
+
+<p>Upon this she sent down an invitation to the Baron to come up, and
+the ladies retreated to their rooms.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron entered, and, as usual, offered to shake hands&mdash;an
+offer which, as usual, Lady Dalrymple did not accept. He then looked
+earnestly all round the room, and gave a sigh. He evidently had expected
+to see Minnie, and was disappointed. Lady Dalrymple marked the glance,
+and the expression which followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ma'am," said he, as he seated himself near to Lady Dalrymple,
+"I said that the business I wanted to speak about was important, and
+that it was a matter of life and death. I assure you that it is. But
+before I tell it I want to say something about the row in Rome. I have
+reason to understand that I caused a little annoyance to you all. If I
+did, I'm sure I didn't intend it. I'm sorry. There! Let's say no more
+about it. 'Tain't often that I say I'm sorry, but I say so now.
+Conditionally, though&mdash;that is, if I really <i>did</i> annoy any
+body."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ma'am&mdash;about the business I came for. You have made a
+sudden decision to take this journey. I want to know, ma'am, if you made
+any inquiries about this road before starting?"</p>
+
+<p>"This road? No, certainly not."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," said the Baron. "Well, ma'am, I've reason to believe
+that it's somewhat unsafe."</p>
+
+<p>"Unsafe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; particularly for ladies."</p>
+
+<p>"And why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, ma'am, the country is in a disordered state, and near the
+boundary line it swarms with brigands. They call themselves
+Garibaldians, but between you and me, ma'am, they're
+<span class = "pagenum">82</span>
+neither more nor less than robbers. You see, along the boundary it is
+convenient for them to dodge to one side or the other, and where the
+road runs there are often crowds of them. Now our papal government means
+well, but it ain't got power to keep down these brigands. It would like
+to, but it can't. You see, the scum of all Italy gather along the
+borders, because they know we <i>are</i> weak; and so there it is."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think there is danger on this road?" said Lady Dalrymple,
+looking keenly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray have you heard of any recent acts of violence along the
+road?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what reason have you for supposing that there is any particular
+danger now?"</p>
+
+<p>"A friend of mine told me so, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"But do not people use the road? Are not carriages constantly passing
+and repassing? Is it likely that if it were unsafe there would be no
+acts of violence? Yet you say there have been none."</p>
+
+<p>"Not of late, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is of late, and of the present time, that we are
+speaking."</p>
+
+<p>"I can only say, ma'am, that the road is considered very
+dangerous."</p>
+
+<p>"Who considers it so?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you had made inquiries at Rome, ma'am, you would have found this
+out, and never would have thought of this road."</p>
+
+<p>"And you advise us not to travel it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"What would you advise us to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would advise you, ma'am, most earnestly, to turn and go back to
+Rome, and leave by another route."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple looked at him, and a slight smile quivered on her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I see, ma'am, that for some reason or other you doubt my word. Would
+you put confidence in it if another person were to confirm what I have
+said?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends entirely upon who the other person may be."</p>
+
+<p>"The person I mean is Lord Hawbury."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Hawbury? Indeed!" said Lady Dalrymple, in some surprise. "But
+he's in Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am, he's not. He's here&mdash;in this hotel."</p>
+
+<p>"In this hotel? Here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I should like to see him very much, and hear what he says
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go and get him, then," said the Baron, and, rising briskly, he
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time he returned with Hawbury. Lady Dalrymple expressed
+surprise to see him, and Hawbury explained that he was traveling with a
+friend. Lady Dalrymple, of course, thought this a fresh proof of his
+infatuation about Minnie, and wondered how he could be a friend to a man
+whom she considered as Minnie's persecutor and tormentor.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">82b</span>
+
+<p>The Baron at once proceeded to explain how the matter stood, and to
+ask Hawbury's opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Lady Dalrymple, "I should really like to know what you
+think about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really," said Hawbury, "I have no acquaintance with the thing,
+you know. Never been on this road in my life. But, at the same time, I
+can assure you that this gentleman is a particular friend of mine, and
+one of the best fellows I know. I'd stake my life on his perfect truth
+and honor. If he says any thing, you may believe it because he says it.
+If he says there are brigands on the road, they must be there."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course," said Lady Dalrymple. "You are right to believe your
+friend, and I should trust his word also. But do you not see that
+perhaps he may believe what he says, and yet be mistaken?"</p>
+
+<p>At this the Baron's face fell. Lord Hawbury's warm commendation of
+him had excited his hopes, but now Lady Dalrymple's answer had destroyed
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"For my part," she added, "I don't really think any of us know much
+about it. I wish we could find some citizen of the town, or some
+reliable person, and ask him. I wonder whether the inn-keeper is a
+trust-worthy man."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't trust one of them. They're the greatest rascals in the
+country. Every man of them is in league with the Garibaldians and
+brigands. This man would advise you to take whatever course would
+benefit himself and his friends most."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely we might find some one whose opinion would be reliable.
+What do you say to one of my drivers? The one that drove our carriage
+looks like a good, honest man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps so; but I wouldn't trust one of them. I don't believe
+there's an honest vetturino in all Italy."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple elevated her eyebrows, and threw at Hawbury a glance
+of despair.</p>
+
+<p>"He speaks English, too," said Lady Dalrymple.</p>
+
+<p>"So do some of the worst rascals in the country," said the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't think he can be a very bad rascal. We had better
+question him, at any rate. Don't you think so, Lord Hawbury?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes; I suppose it won't do any harm to have a look at the
+beggar."</p>
+
+<p>The driver alluded to was summoned, and soon made his appearance. He
+was a square-headed fellow, with a grizzled beard, and one of those
+non-committal faces which may be worn by either an honest man or a
+knave. Lady Dalrymple thought him the former; the Baron the latter. The
+result will show which of these was in the right.</p>
+
+<p>The driver spoke very fair English. He had been two or three times
+over the road. He had not been over it later than two years before. He
+didn't know it was dangerous. He had
+<span class = "pagenum">83</span>
+never heard of brigands being here. He didn't know. There was a signore
+at the hotel who might know. He was traveling to Florence alone. He was
+on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Lady Dalrymple heard this she suspected that it was Count
+Girasole. She determined to have his advice about it. So she sent a
+private request to that effect.</p>
+
+<p>It was Count Girasole. He entered, and threw his usual smile around.
+He was charmed, in his broken English, to be of any service to
+miladi.</p>
+
+<p>To Lady Dalrymple's statement and question Girasole listened
+attentively. As she concluded a faint smile passed over his face. The
+Baron watched him attentively.</p>
+
+<p>"I know no brigand on dissa road," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple looked triumphantly at the others.</p>
+
+<p>"I have travail dissa road many time. No dangaire&mdash;alla
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>Another smile from Lady Dalrymple.</p>
+
+<p>The Count Girasole looked at Hawbury and then at the Baron, with a
+slight dash of mockery in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"As for dangaire," he said&mdash;"pouf! dere is none. See, I go
+alone&mdash;no arms, not a knife&mdash;an' yet gold in my
+porte-monnaie."</p>
+
+<p>And he drew forth his porte-monnaie, and opened it so as to exhibit
+its contents.</p>
+
+<p>A little further conversation followed. Girasole evidently was
+perfectly familiar with the road. The idea of brigands appeared to
+strike him as some exquisite piece of pleasantry. He looked as though it
+was only his respect for the company which prevented him from laughing
+outright. They had taken the trouble to summon him for that! And,
+besides, as the Count suggested, even if a brigand did appear, there
+would be always travelers within hearing.</p>
+
+<p>Both Hawbury and the Baron felt humiliated, especially the latter;
+and Girasole certainly had the best of it on that occasion, whatever his
+lot had been at other times.</p>
+
+<p>The Count withdrew. The Baron followed, in company with Hawbury. He
+was deeply dejected. First of all, he had hoped to see Minnie. Then he
+hoped to frighten the party back. As to the brigands, he was in most
+serious earnest. All that he said he believed. He could not understand
+the driver and Count Girasole. The former he might consider a scoundrel;
+but why should Girasole mislead? And yet he believed that he was right.
+As for Hawbury, he didn't believe much in the brigands, but he did
+believe in his friend, and he didn't think much of Girasole. He was
+sorry for his friend, yet didn't know whether he wanted the party to
+turn back or not. His one trouble was Dacres, who now was watching the
+Italian like a blood-hound, who had seen him, no doubt, go up to the
+ladies, and, of course, would suppose that Mrs. Willoughby had sent for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>As for the ladies, their excitement was great. The doors were thin,
+and they had heard every word of the conversation. With Mrs. Willoughby
+<span class = "pagenum">83b</span>
+there was but one opinion as to the Baron's motive: she thought he had
+come to get a peep at Minnie, and also to frighten them back to Rome by
+silly stories. His signal failure afforded her great triumph. Minnie, as
+usual, sympathized with him, but said nothing. As for Ethel, the sudden
+arrival of Lord Hawbury was overwhelming, and brought a return of all
+her former excitement. The sound of his voice again vibrated through
+her, and at first there began to arise no end of wild hopes, which,
+however, were as quickly dispelled. The question arose, What brought him
+there? There seemed to her but one answer, and that was his infatuation
+for Minnie. Yet to her, as well as to Lady Dalrymple, it seemed very
+singular that he should be so warm a friend to Minnie's tormentor. It
+was a puzzling thing. Perhaps he did not know that the Baron was
+Minnie's lover. Perhaps he thought that his friend would give her up,
+and he could win her. Amidst these thoughts there came a wild hope that
+perhaps he did not love Minnie so very much, after all. But this hope
+soon was dispelled as she recalled the events of the past, and reflected
+on his cool and easy indifference to every thing connected with her.</p>
+
+<p>Such emotions as these actuated the ladies; and when the guests had
+gone they joined their aunt once more, and deliberated. Minnie took no
+part in the debate, but sat apart, looking like an injured being. There
+was among them all the same opinion, and that was that it was all a
+clumsy device of the Baron's to frighten them back to Rome. Such being
+their opinion, they did not occupy much time in debating about their
+course on the morrow. The idea of going back did not enter their
+heads.</p>
+
+<p>This event gave a much more agreeable feeling to Mrs. Willoughby and
+Lady Dalrymple than they had known since they had been aware that the
+Baron had followed them. They felt that they had grappled with the
+difficulty. They had met the enemy and defeated him. Besides, the
+presence of Hawbury was of itself a guarantee of peace. There could be
+no further danger of any unpleasant scenes while Hawbury was with him.
+Girasole's presence, also, was felt to be an additional guarantee of
+safety.</p>
+
+<p>It was felt by all to be a remarkable circumstance that so many men
+should have followed them on what they had intended as quite a secret
+journey. These gentlemen who followed them were the very ones, and the
+only ones, from whom they wished to conceal it. Yet it had all been
+revealed to them, and lo! here they all were. Some debate arose as to
+whether it would not be better to go back to Rome now, and defy the
+Baron, and leave by another route. But this debate was soon given up,
+and they looked forward to the journey as one which might afford new and
+peculiar enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>On the following morning they started at an early hour. Girasole left
+about half an hour after them, and passed them a few miles along
+<span class = "pagenum">84</span>
+the road. The Baron and the Reverend Saul left next; and last of all
+came Hawbury and Dacres. The latter was, if possible, more gloomy and
+vengeful than ever. The visit of the Italian on the preceding evening
+was fully believed by him to be a scheme of his wife's. Nor could any
+amount of persuasion or vehement statement on Hawbury's part in any way
+shake his belief.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he would say, "you don't understand. Depend upon it, she got
+him up there to feast her eyes on him. Depend upon it, she managed to
+get some note from him, and pass one to him in return. He had only to
+run it under the leaf of a table, or stick it inside of some book: no
+doubt they have it all arranged, and pass their infernal love-letters
+backward and forward. But I'll soon have a chance. My time is coming.
+It's near, too. I'll have my vengeance; and then for all the wrongs of
+all my life that demon of a woman shall pay me dear!"</p>
+
+<p>To all of which Hawbury had nothing to say. He could say nothing; he
+could do nothing. He could only stand by his friend, go with him, and
+watch over him, hoping to avert the crisis which he dreaded, or, if it
+did come, to lessen the danger of his friend.</p>
+
+<p>The morning was clear and beautiful. The road wound among the hills.
+The party went in the order above mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>First, Girasole, on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>Next, and two miles at least behind, came the two carriages with the
+ladies and their maids.</p>
+
+<p>Third, and half a mile behind these, came the Baron and the Reverend
+Saul.</p>
+
+<p>Last of all, and half a mile behind the Baron, came Hawbury and Scone
+Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>These last drove along at about this distance. The scenery around
+grew grander, and the mountains higher. The road was smooth and well
+constructed, and the carriage rolled along with an easy, comfortable
+rumble.</p>
+
+<p>They were driving up a slope which wound along the side of a hill. At
+the top of the hill trees appeared on each side, and the road made a
+sharp turn here.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the report of a shot sounded ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Then a scream.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord! Dacres, did you hear that?" cried Hawbury. "The Baron was
+right, after all."</p>
+
+<p>The driver here tried to stop his horses, but Hawbury would not let
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a pistol, Dacres?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Get out!" he shouted to the driver; and, kicking him out of the
+seat, he seized the reins himself, and drove the horses straight forward
+to where the noise arose.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the brigands, Dacres. The ladies are there."</p>
+
+<p>"My wife! O God! my wife!" groaned Dacres. But a minute before he had
+been cursing her.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">84b</span>
+
+<p>"Get a knife! Get something, man! Have a fight for it!"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres murmured something.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury lashed the horses, and drove them straight toward the
+wood.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXIII" id = "chapXXIII">
+CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+CAUGHT IN AMBUSH.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> ladies had been driving on,
+quite unconscious of the neighborhood of any danger, admiring the beauty
+of the scenery, and calling one another's attention to the various
+objects of interest which from time to time became visible. Thus
+engaged, they slowly ascended the incline already spoken of, and began
+to enter the forest. They had not gone far when the road took a sudden
+turn, and here a startling spectacle burst upon their view.</p>
+
+<p>The road on turning descended slightly into a hollow. On the right
+arose a steep acclivity, covered with the dense forest. On the other
+side the ground rose more gradually, and was covered over by a forest
+much less dense. Some distance in front the road took another turn, and
+was lost to view among the trees. About a hundred yards in front of them
+a tree had been felled, and lay across the way, barring their
+progress.</p>
+
+<p>About twenty armed men stood before them close by the place where the
+turn was. Among them was a man on horseback. To their amazement, it was
+Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>Before the ladies could recover from their astonishment two of the
+armed men advanced, and the driver at once stopped the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole then came forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Miladi," said he, "I haf de honore of to invitar you to
+descend."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray what is the meaning of this?" inquired Lady Dalrymple, with
+much agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"It means dat I war wrong. Dere are brigand on dis road."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple said not another word.</p>
+
+<p>The Count approached, and politely offered his hand to assist the
+ladies out, but they rejected it, and got out themselves. First Mrs.
+Willoughby, then Ethel, then Lady Dalrymple, then Minnie. Three of the
+ladies were white with utter horror, and looked around in sickening fear
+upon the armed men; but Minnie showed not even the slightest particle of
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>"How horrid!" she exclaimed. "And now some one will come and save my
+life again. It's <i>always</i> the way. I'm sure <i>this</i> isn't my
+fault, Kitty darling."</p>
+
+<p>Before her sister could say any thing Girasole approached.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, mees," he said; "but I haf made dis recepzion for you. You
+sall be well treat. Do not fear. I lay down my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Villain!" cried Lady Dalrymple. "Arrest her at your peril. Remember
+who she is. She has friends powerful enough to avenge her if you dare to
+injure her."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">85</span>
+
+<p>"You arra mistake," said Girasole, politely. "Se is mine, not yours.
+I am her best fren. Se is fiancée to me. I save her life&mdash;tell her
+my love&mdash;make a proposezion. Se accept me. Se is my fiancée. I was
+oppose by you. What else sall I do? I mus haf her. Se is mine. I am an
+Italiano nobile, an' I love her. Dere is no harm for any. You mus see
+dat I haf de right. But for me se would be dead."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dalrymple was not usually excitable, but now her whole nature
+was aroused; her eyes flashed with indignation; her face turned red; she
+gasped for breath, and fell to the ground. Ethel rushed to assist her,
+and two of the maids came up. Lady Dalrymple lay senseless.</p>
+
+<p>With Mrs. Willoughby the result was different. She burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Count Girasole," she cried, "oh, spare her! If you love her, spare
+her. She is only a child. If we opposed you, it was not from any
+objection to you; it was because she is such a child."</p>
+
+<p>"You mistake," said the Count, shrugging his shoulders. "I love her
+better than life. Se love me. It will make her happy. You come too. You
+sall see se is happy. Come. Be my sistaire. It is love&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby burst into fresh tears at this, and flung her arms
+around Minnie, and moaned and wept.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, Kitty darling, I think it's horrid. You're <i>never</i>
+satisfied. You're always finding fault. I'm sure if you don't like Rufus
+K. Gunn, you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Minnie's voice was interrupted by the sound of approaching
+wheels. It was the carriage of the Baron and his friend. The Baron had
+feared brigands, but he was certainly not expecting to come upon them so
+suddenly. The brigands had been prepared, and as the carriage turned it
+was suddenly stopped by the two carriages in front, and at once was
+surrounded.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron gave one lightning glance, and surveyed the whole
+situation. He did not move, but his form was rigid, and every nerve was
+braced, and his eyes gleamed fiercely. He saw it all&mdash;the crowd of
+women, the calm face of Minnie, and the uncontrollable agitation of Mrs.
+Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, by thunder!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole rode up and called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Surrender! You arra my prisoner."</p>
+
+<p>"What! it's you, is it?" said the Baron; and he glared for a moment
+with a vengeful look at Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"Descend," said Girasole. "You mus be bound."</p>
+
+<p>"Bound? All right. Here, parson, you jump down, and let them tie your
+hands."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron stood up. The Reverend Saul stood up too. The Reverend Saul
+began to step down very carefully. The brigands gathered around, most of
+them being on the side on which the two were about to descend. The
+Reverend Saul had just stepped to the ground.
+<span class = "pagenum">85b</span>
+The Baron was just preparing to follow. The brigands were impatient to
+secure them, when suddenly, with a quick movement, the Baron gave a
+spring out of the opposite side of the carriage, and leaped to the
+ground. The brigands were taken completely by surprise, and before they
+could prepare to follow him, he had sprung into the forest, and, with
+long bounds, was rushing up the steep hill and out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>One shot was fired after him, and that was the shot that Hawbury and
+Dacres heard. Two men sprang after him with the hope of catching
+him.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments a loud cry was heard from the woods.</p>
+
+<p>"MIN!"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie heard it; a gleam of light flashed from her eyes, a smile of
+triumph came over her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Wha-a-a-a-t?" she called in reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Wa-a-a-a-a-a-it!" was the cry that came back&mdash;and this was the
+cry that Hawbury and Dacres had heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Sacr-r-r-r-r-r-remento!" growled Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know what he means by telling me that," said
+Minnie. "How can <i>I</i> wait if this horrid Italian won't let me? I'm
+sure he might be more considerate."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs. Willoughby, who had for a moment been roused to hope by the
+escape of the Baron, now fell again into despair, and wept and moaned
+and clung to Minnie. Lady Dalrymple still lay senseless, in spite of the
+efforts of Ethel and the maids. The occurrence had been more to her than
+a mere encounter with brigands. It was the thought of her own
+carelessness that overwhelmed her. In an instant the thought of the
+Baron's warning and his solemn entreaties flashed across her memory. She
+recollected how Hawbury had commended his friend, and how she had turned
+from these to put her trust in the driver and Girasole, the very men who
+had betrayed her. These were the thoughts that overwhelmed her.</p>
+
+<p>But now there arose once more the noise of rolling wheels, advancing
+more swiftly than the last, accompanied by the lash of a whip and shouts
+of a human voice. Girasole spoke to his men, and they moved up nearer to
+the bend, and stood in readiness there.</p>
+
+<p>What Hawbury's motive was it is not difficult to tell. He was not
+armed, and therefore could not hope to do much; but he had in an instant
+resolved to rush thus into the midst of the danger. First of all he
+thought that a struggle might be going on between the drivers, the other
+travelers, and the brigands; in which event his assistance would be of
+great value. Though unarmed, he thought he might snatch or wrest a
+weapon from some one of the enemy. In addition to this, he wished to
+strike a blow to save the ladies from captivity, even if his blow should
+be unavailing. Even if he had known how matters were, he would probably
+have acted in precisely the same way. As for Dacres, he had but one
+idea. He was sure it
+<span class = "pagenum">85</span>
+was some trick concocted by his wife and the Italian, though why they
+should do so he did not stop, in his mad mood, to inquire. A vague idea
+that a communication had passed between them on the preceding evening
+with reference to this was now in his mind, and his vengeful feeling was
+stimulated by this thought to the utmost pitch of intensity.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury thus lashed his horses, and they flew along the road. After
+the first cry and the shot that they had heard there was no further
+noise. The stillness was mysterious. It showed Hawbury that the
+struggle, if there had been any, was over. But the first idea still
+remained both in his own mind and in that of Dacres. On they went, and
+now they came to the turn in the road. Round this they whirled, and in
+an instant the scene revealed itself.</p>
+
+<p>Three carriages stopped; some drivers standing and staring
+indifferently; a group of women crowding around a prostrate form that
+lay in the road; a pale, beautiful girl, to whom a beautiful woman was
+clinging passionately; a crowd of armed brigands with leveled pieces;
+and immediately before them a horseman&mdash;the Italian, Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>One glance showed all this. Hawbury could not distinguish any face
+among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel's face
+was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby and
+Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil's all this about?" asked Hawbury, haughtily, as his
+horses stopped at the Baron's carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"You are prisoners&mdash;" began Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>But before he could say another word he was interrupted by a cry of
+fury from Dacres, who, the moment that he had recognized him, sprang to
+his feet, and with a long, keen knife in his hand, leaped from the
+carriage into the midst of the brigands, striking right and left, and
+endeavoring to force his way toward Girasole. In an instant Hawbury was
+by his side. Two men fell beneath the fierce thrusts of Dacres's knife,
+and Hawbury tore the rifle from a third. With the clubbed end of this he
+began dealing blows right and left. The men fell back and leveled their
+pieces. Dacres sprang forward, and was within three steps of
+Girasole&mdash;his face full of ferocity, his eyes flashing, and looking
+not so much like an English gentleman as one of the old vikings in a
+Berserker rage. One more spring brought him closer to Girasole. The
+Italian retreated. One of his men flung himself before Dacres and tried
+to grapple with him. The next instant he fell with a groan, stabbed to
+the heart. With a yell of rage the others rushed upon Dacres; but the
+latter was now suddenly seized with a new idea. Turning for an instant
+he held his assailants at bay; and then, seizing the opportunity, sprang
+into the woods and ran. One or two shots were fired, and then half a
+dozen men gave chase.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile one or two shots had been fired at Hawbury, but, in the
+confusion, they had not taken effect. Suddenly, as he stood with
+uplifted
+<span class = "pagenum">86b</span>
+rifle ready to strike, his enemies made a simultaneous rush upon him. He
+was seized by a dozen strong arms. He struggled fiercely, but his
+efforts were unavailing. The odds were too great. Before long he was
+thrown to the ground on his face, and his arms bound behind him. After
+this he was gagged.</p>
+
+<p>The uproar of this fierce struggle had roused all the ladies, and
+they turned their eyes in horror to where the two were fighting against
+such odds. Ethel raised herself on her knees from beside Lady Dalrymple,
+and caught sight of Hawbury. For a moment she remained motionless; and
+then she saw the escape of Dacres, and Hawbury going down in the grasp
+of his assailants. She gave a loud shriek and rushed forward. But
+Girasole intercepted her.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back," he said. "De milor is my prisoner. Back, or you will be
+bound."</p>
+
+<p>And at a gesture from him two of the men advanced to seize Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Back!" he said, once more, in a stern voice. "You mus be tentif to
+miladi."</p>
+
+<p>Ethel shrank back.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of that scream had struck on Hawbury's ears, but he did not
+recognize it. If he thought of it at all, he supposed it was the scream
+of common terror from one of the women. He was sore and bruised and fast
+bound. He was held down also in such a way that he could not see the
+party of ladies. The Baron's carriage intercepted the view, for he had
+fallen behind this during the final struggle. After a little time he was
+allowed to sit up, but still he could not see beyond.</p>
+
+<p>There was now some delay, and Girasole gave some orders to his men.
+The ladies waited with fearful apprehensions. They listened eagerly to
+hear if there might not be some sounds of approaching help. But no such
+sounds came to gladden their hearts. Lady Dalrymple, also, still lay
+senseless; and Ethel, full of the direst anxiety about Hawbury, had to
+return to renew her efforts toward reviving her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>Before long the brigands who had been in pursuit of the fugitives
+returned to the road. They did not bring back either of them. A dreadful
+question arose in the minds of the ladies as to the meaning of this. Did
+it mean that the fugitives had escaped, or had been shot down in the
+woods by their wrathful pursuers? It was impossible for them to find
+out. Girasole went over to them and conversed with them apart. The men
+all looked sullen; but whether that arose from disappointed vengeance or
+gratified ferocity it was impossible for them to discern.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic087.png" width = "452" height = "455"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+THE MÊLÉE.</p>
+
+<p>The brigands now turned their attention to their own men. Two of
+these had received bad but not dangerous wounds from the dagger of
+Dacres, and the scowls of pain and rage which they threw upon Hawbury
+and the other captives boded nothing but the most cruel fate to all of
+them. Another, however, still lay there. It was the one who had
+intercepted
+<span class = "pagenum">87</span>
+Dacres in his rush upon Girasole. He lay motionless in a pool of blood.
+They turned him over. His white, rigid face, as it became exposed to
+view, exhibited the unmistakable mark of death, and a gash on his breast
+showed how his fate had met him.</p>
+
+<p>The brigands uttered loud cries, and advanced toward Hawbury. He sat
+regarding them with perfect indifference. They raised their rifles, some
+clubbing them, others taking aim, swearing and gesticulating all the
+time like maniacs.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury, however, did not move a muscle of his face, nor did he show
+the slightest feeling of any kind. He was covered with dust, and his
+clothes were torn and splashed with mud, and his hands were bound, and
+his mouth was gagged; but he preserved a coolness that astonished his
+enemies. Had it not been for this coolness his brains might have been
+blown out&mdash;in which case this narrative would never have been
+written; but there was something in his look which made the Italians
+pause, gave Girasole time to interfere, and thus preserved my story from
+ruin.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">87b</span>
+
+<p>Girasole then came up and made his men stand back. They obeyed
+sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole removed the gag.</p>
+
+<p>Then he stood and looked at Hawbury. Hawbury sat and returned his
+look with his usual nonchalance, regarding the Italian with a cold,
+steady stare, which produced upon the latter its usual maddening
+effect.</p>
+
+<p>"Milor will be ver glad to hear," said he, with a mocking smile, "dat
+de mees will be take good care to. Milor was attentif to de mees; but de
+mees haf been fiancée to me, an' so I take dis occazione to mak her
+mine. I sall love her, an' se sall love me. I haf save her life, an' se
+haf been fiancée to me since den."</p>
+
+<p>Now Girasole had chosen to say this to Hawbury from the conviction
+that Hawbury was Minnie's lover, and that the statement of this would
+inflict a pang upon the heart of his supposed rival which would destroy
+his coolness. Thus he chose rather to strike at Hawbury's jealousy than
+at his fear or at his pride.</p>
+
+<p>But he was disappointed. Hawbury heard his statement with utter
+indifference.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">88</span>
+
+<p>"Well," said he, "all I can say is that it seems to me to be a
+devilish odd way of going to work about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" said Girasole, fiercely. "You sall see. Se sall be mine.
+Aha!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury made no reply, and Girasole, after a gesture of impatience,
+walked off, baffled.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes two men came up to Hawbury, and led him away to the
+woods on the left.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "illustration floatleft">
+<img src = "images/pic088.png" width = "212" height = "339"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"THEY SAW A RUINED HOUSE."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXIV" id = "chapXXIV">
+CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+AMONG THE BRIGANDS.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Girasole</span> now returned to the ladies.
+They were in the same position in which he had left them. Mrs.
+Willoughby with Minnie, and Ethel, with the maids, attending to Lady
+Dalrymple.</p>
+
+<p>"Miladi," said Girasole, "I beg your attenzion. I haf had de honore
+to inform you dat dis mees is my fiancée. Se haf give me her heart an'
+her hand; se love me, an' I love her. I was prevent from to see her, an'
+I haf to take her in dis mannaire. I feel sad at de pain I haf give you,
+an' assuir you dat it was inevitabile. You sall not be troubled more.
+You are free. Mees," he continued, taking Minnie's hand, "you haf promis
+me dis fair han', an' you are mine. You come to one who loves you
+bettaire dan life, an' who you love. You owe youair life to me. I sall
+make it so happy as nevair was."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure <i>I</i> don't want to be happy," said Minnie. "I don't
+<i>want</i> to leave darling Kitty&mdash;and it's a shame&mdash;and
+you'll make me <i>hate</i> you if you do so."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">88b</span>
+
+<p>"Miladi," said Girasole to Mrs. Willoughby, "de mees says se not want
+to leaf you. Eef you want to come, you may come an' be our
+sistaire."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Kitty darling, you won't leave me, will you, all alone with this
+horrid man?" said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling," moaned Mrs. Willoughby, "how can I? I'll go. Oh, my
+sweet sister, what misery!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now that will be really <i>quite</i> delightful if you
+<i>will</i> come, Kitty darling. Only I'm afraid you'll find it awfully
+uncomfortable."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole turned once more to the other ladies.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg you will assura de miladi when she recovaire of my
+considerazion de mos distingue, an' convey to her de regrettas dat I
+haf. Miladi," he continued, addressing Ethel, "you are free, an' can go.
+You will not be molest by me. You sall go safe. You haf not ver far. You
+sall fin' houses dere&mdash;forward&mdash;before&mdash;not far."</p>
+
+<p>With these words he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"You mus come wit me," he said to Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie. "Come.
+Eet ees not ver far."</p>
+
+<p>He walked slowly into the woods on the left, and the two sisters
+followed him. Of the two Minnie was far the more cool and collected. She
+was as composed as usual; and, as there was no help for it, she walked
+on. Mrs. Willoughby, however, was terribly agitated, and wept and
+shuddered and moaned incessantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty darling," said Minnie, "I <i>wish</i> you wouldn't go on so.
+You really make me feel quite nervous. I never saw you so bad in my
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Minnie! Poor child! Poor sweet child!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if I am a child, you needn't go and tell me about it all the
+time. It's really quite horrid."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby said no more, but generously tried to repress her own
+feelings, so as not to give distress to her sister.</p>
+
+<p>After the Count had entered the wood with the two sisters the drivers
+removed the horses from the carriages and went away, led off by the man
+who had driven the ladies. This was the man whose stolid face had seemed
+likely to belong to an honest man, but who now was shown to belong to
+the opposite class. These men went down the road over which they had
+come, leaving the carriages there with the ladies and their maids.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole now led the way, and Minnie and her sister followed him. The
+wood was very thick, and grew more so as they advanced, but there was
+not much underbrush, and progress was not difficult. Several times a
+wild thought of flight came to Mrs. Willoughby, but was at once
+dispelled by a helpless sense of its utter impossibility. How could she
+persuade the impracticable Minnie, who seemed so free from all concern?
+or, if she could persuade her, how could she accomplish her desire? She
+would
+<span class = "pagenum">89</span>
+at once be pursued and surrounded, while, even if she did manage to
+escape, how could she ever find her way to any place of refuge? Every
+minute, also, drew them deeper and deeper into the woods, and the path
+was a winding one, in which she soon became bewildered, until at last
+all sense of her whereabouts was utterly gone. At last even the idea of
+escaping ceased to suggest itself, and there remained only a dull
+despair, a sense of utter helplessness and hopelessness&mdash;the sense
+of one who is going to his doom.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole said nothing whatever, but led the way in silence, walking
+slowly enough to accommodate the ladies, and sometimes holding an
+overhanging branch to prevent it from springing back in their faces.
+Minnie walked on lightly, and with an elastic step, looking around with
+evident interest upon the forest. Once a passing lizard drew from her a
+pretty little shriek of alarm, thus showing that while she was so calm
+in the face of real and frightful danger, she could be alarmed by even
+the most innocent object that affected her fancy. Mrs. Willoughby
+thought that she understood Minnie before, but this little shriek at a
+lizard, from one who smiled at the brigands, struck her as a problem
+quite beyond her power to solve.</p>
+
+<p>The woods now began to grow thinner. The trees were larger and
+farther apart, and rose all around in columnar array, so that it was
+possible to see between them to a greater distance. At length there
+appeared before them, through the trunks of the trees, the gleam of
+water. Mrs. Willoughby noticed this, and wondered what it might be. At
+first she thought it was a harbor on the coast; then she thought it was
+some river; but finally, on coming nearer, she saw that it was a lake.
+In a few minutes after they first caught sight of it they had reached
+its banks.</p>
+
+<p>It was a most beautiful and sequestered spot. All around were high
+wooded eminences, beyond whose undulating summits arose the towering
+forms of the Apennine heights. Among these hills lay a little lake about
+a mile in length and breadth, whose surface was as smooth as glass, and
+reflected the surrounding shores. On their right, as they descended,
+they saw some figures moving, and knew them to be the brigands, while on
+their left they saw a ruined house. Toward this Girasole led them.</p>
+
+<p>The house stood on the shore of the lake. It was of stone, and was
+two stories in height. The roof was still good, but the windows were
+gone. There was no door, but half a dozen or so of the brigands stood
+there, and formed a sufficient guard to prevent the escape of any
+prisoner. These men had dark, wicked eyes and sullen faces, which
+afforded fresh terror to Mrs. Willoughby. She had thought, in her
+desperation, of making some effort to escape by bribing the men, but the
+thorough-bred rascality which was evinced in the faces of these ruffians
+showed her that they were the very fellows who would take her money and
+cheat her afterward. If she had been able to speak Italian,
+<span class = "pagenum">89b</span>
+she might have secured their services by the prospect of some future
+reward after escaping; but, as it was, she could not speak a word of the
+language, and thus could not enter upon even the preliminaries of an
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the house the ruffians stood aside, staring hard at them.
+Mrs. Willoughby shrank in terror from the baleful glances of their eyes;
+but Minnie looked at them calmly and innocently, and not without some of
+that curiosity which a child shows when he first sees a Chinaman or an
+Arab in the streets. Girasole then led the way up stairs to a room on
+the second story.</p>
+
+<p>It was an apartment of large size, extending across the house, with a
+window at each end, and two on the side. On the floor there was a heap
+of straw, over which some skins were thrown. There were no chairs, nor
+was there any table.</p>
+
+<p>"Scusa me," said Girasole, "miladi, for dis accommodazion. It gifs me
+pain, but I promise it sall not be long. Only dis day an' dis night
+here. I haf to detain you dat time. Den we sall go to where I haf a home
+fitter for de bride. I haf a home wharra you sall be a happy bride,
+mees&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to stay here <i>at all</i> in such a horrid place,"
+said Minnie, looking around in disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Only dis day an' dis night," said Girasole, imploringly. "Aftaire
+you sall have all you sall wis."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at any rate, I think it's very horrid in you to shut me up
+here. You might let me walk outside in the woods. I'm so <i>aw</i>fully
+fond of the woods."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"And so you sall have plenty of de wood&mdash;but to-morra. You wait
+here now. All safe&mdash;oh yes&mdash;secura&mdash;all aright&mdash;oh
+yes&mdash;slip to-night, an' in de mornin' early you sall be mine. Dere
+sall come a priest, an' we sall have de ceremony."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think it was very unkind in you to bring me to such a horrid
+place. And how can I sit down? You <i>might</i> have had a chair. And
+look at poor, darling Kitty. You may be unkind to me, but you needn't
+make <i>her</i> sit on the floor. You never saved <i>her</i> life, and
+you have no right to be unkind to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Unkind! Oh, mees!&mdash;my heart, my life, all arra youairs, an' I
+lay my life at youair foot."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be far more kind if you would put a chair at poor
+Kitty's feet," retorted Minnie, with some show of temper.</p>
+
+<p>"But, oh, carissima, tink&mdash;de wild wood&mdash;noting
+here&mdash;no, noting&mdash;not a chair&mdash;only de straw."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you had no business to bring me here. You might have known that
+there were no chairs here. I can't sit down on nothing. But I suppose
+you expect me to stand up. And if that isn't horrid, I don't know what
+is. I'm sure I don't know what poor dear papa would say if he were to
+see me now."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">90</span>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic090.png" width = "343" height = "450"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"WHAT IS THIS FOR?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not grieve, carissima mia&mdash;do not, charming mees, decompose
+yourself. To-morra you sall go to a bettaire place, an' I will carra you
+to my castello. You sall haf every want, you sall enjoy every wis, you
+sall be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't see how I can be happy without a chair," reiterated
+Minnie, in whose mind this one grievance now became pre-eminent. "You
+talk as though you think I am made of stone or iron, and you think I can
+stand here all day or all night, and you want me to sleep on that horrid
+straw and those horrid furry things. I suppose this is the castle that
+you speak of; and I'm sure I wonder why you <i>ever</i> thought of
+bringing me here. I suppose it doesn't make so much difference about a
+<i>carpet</i>; but you will not even let me have a <i>chair</i>; and I
+think you're <i>very</i> unkind."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole was in despair. He stood in thought for some time. He felt
+that Minnie's rebuke was deserved. If she had reproached him with
+waylaying her and carrying her off, he could have borne it, and could
+have found a reply. But such a charge as this was unanswerable.
+<span class = "pagenum">90b</span>
+It certainly was very hard that she should not be able to sit down. But
+then how was it possible for him to find a chair in the woods? It was an
+insoluble problem. How in the world could he satisfy her?</p>
+
+<p>Minnie's expression also was most touching. The fact that she had no
+chair to sit on seemed to absolutely overwhelm her. The look that she
+gave Girasole was so piteous, so reproachful, so heart-rending, that his
+soul actually quaked, and a thrill of remorse passed all through his
+frame. He felt a cold chill running to the very marrow of his bones.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're <i>very, very</i> unkind," said Minnie, "and I really
+don't see how I can <i>ever</i> speak to you again."</p>
+
+<p>This was too much. Girasole turned away. He rushed down stairs. He
+wandered frantically about. He looked in all directions for a chair.
+There was plenty of wood certainly&mdash;for all around he saw the vast
+forest&mdash;but of what use was it? He could not transform a tree into
+a chair. He communicated his difficulty to some of the men. They shook
+their heads helplessly. At last he saw the stump of
+<span class = "pagenum">91</span>
+a tree which was of such a shape that it looked as though it might be
+used as a seat. It was his only resource, and he seized it. Calling two
+or three of the men, he had the stump carried to the old house. He
+rushed up stairs to acquaint Minnie with his success, and to try to
+console her. She listened in coldness to his hasty words. The men who
+were carrying the stump came up with a clump and a clatter, breathing
+hard, for the stump was very heavy, and finally placed it on the landing
+in front of Minnie's door. On reaching that spot it was found that it
+would not go in.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie heard the noise and came out. She looked at the stump, then at
+the men and then at Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this for?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Eet&mdash;eet ees for a chair."</p>
+
+<p>"A chair!" exclaimed Minnie. "Why, it's nothing but a great big,
+horrid, ugly old stump, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her remarks ended in a scream. She turned and ran back into the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;what is de mattaire?" cried the Count, looking into the
+room with a face pale with anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, take it away! take it away!" cried Minnie, in terror.</p>
+
+<p>"What? what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take it away! take it away!" she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"But eet ees for you&mdash;eet ees a seat."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want it. I won't have it!" cried Minnie. "It's full of
+horrid ants and things. And it's dreadful&mdash;and <i>very, very</i>
+cruel in you to bring them up here just to <i>tease</i> me, when you
+<i>know</i> I hate them so. Take it away! take it away! oh, do please
+take it away! And oh, do please go away yourself, and leave me with
+dear, darling Kitty. <i>She</i> never teases me. She is <i>always</i>
+kind."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole turned away once more, in fresh trouble. He had the stump
+carried off, and then he wandered away. He was quite at a loss what to
+do. He was desperately in love, and it was a very small request for
+Minnie to make, and he was in that state of mind when it would be a
+happiness to grant her slightest wish; but here he found himself in a
+difficulty from which he could find no possible means of escape.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, Kitty darling," said Minnie, after Girasole had
+gone&mdash;"now you see how very, very wrong you were to be so opposed
+to that dear, good, kind, nice Rufus K. Gunn. <i>He</i> would never have
+treated me so. <i>He</i> would never have taken me to a place like
+this&mdash;a horrid old house by a horrid damp pond, without doors and
+windows, just like a beggar's house&mdash;and then put me in a room
+without a chair to sit on when I'm so <i>aw</i>fully tired. He was
+<i>always</i> kind to me, and that was the reason you hated him so,
+because you couldn't bear to have people kind to me. And I'm <i>so</i>
+tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, then, poor darling. I'll make a nice seat for you out of these
+skins."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">91b</span>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Willoughby began to fold some of them up and lay them one
+upon the other.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that for, Kitty dear?" asked Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"To make you a nice, soft seat, dearest."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want them, and I won't sit on the horrid things," said
+Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"But, darling, they are as soft as a cushion. See!" And her sister
+pressed her hand on them, so as to show how soft they were.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they're soft <i>at all</i>," said Minnie; "and I wish
+you wouldn't tease me so, when I'm <i>so</i> tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Then come, darling; I will sit on them, and you shall sit on my
+knees."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to go near those horrid furry things. They belong
+to cows and things. I think <i>every body's</i> unkind to me
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie, dearest, you really wound me when you talk in that way. Be
+reasonable now. See what pains I take. I do all I can for you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm <i>always</i> reasonable, and it's <i>you</i> that are
+unreasonable, when you want me to sit on that horrid fur. It's very,
+<i>very</i> disagreeable in you, Kitty dear."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby said nothing, but went on folding some more skins.
+These she placed on the straw so that a pile was formed about as high as
+an ordinary chair. This pile was placed against the wall so that the
+wall served as a support.</p>
+
+<p>Then she seated herself upon this.</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie, dearest," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Kitty darling."</p>
+
+<p>"It's really quite soft and comfortable. Do come and sit on it; do,
+just to please me, only for five minutes. See! I'll spread my dress over
+it so that you need not touch it. Come, dearest, only for five
+minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll sit on it just for a little mite of a time, if you
+promise not to tease me."</p>
+
+<p>"Tease you, dear! Why, of course not. Come."</p>
+
+<p>So Minnie went over and sat by her sister's side.</p>
+
+<p>In about an hour Girasole came back. The two sisters were seated
+there. Minnie's head was resting on her sister's shoulder, and she was
+fast asleep, while Mrs. Willoughby sat motionless, with her face turned
+toward him, and such an expression in her dark eyes that Girasole felt
+awed. He turned in silence and went away.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic092.png" width = "214" height = "332"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"ETHEL OBTAINED A PAIR OF SCISSORS."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXV" id = "chapXXV">
+CHAPTER XXV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+SEEKING FOR HELP.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> departure of the drivers with
+their horses had increased the difficulties of the party, and had added
+to their danger. Of that party Ethel was now the head, and her efforts
+were directed more zealously than ever to bring back Lady Dalrymple to
+her senses. At last these efforts were crowned with success, and, after
+being senseless for nearly an hour, she
+<span class = "pagenum">92</span>
+came to herself. The restoration of her senses, however, brought with it
+the discovery of all that had occurred, and thus caused a new rush of
+emotion, which threatened painful consequences. But the consequences
+were averted, and at length she was able to rise. She was then helped
+into her carriage, after which the question arose as to their next
+proceeding.</p>
+
+<p>The loss of the horses and drivers was a very embarrassing thing to
+them, and for a time they were utterly at a loss what course to adopt.
+Lady Dalrymple was too weak to walk, and they had no means of conveying
+her. The maids had simply lost their wits from fright; and Ethel could
+not see her way clearly out of the difficulty. At this juncture they
+were roused by the approach of the Rev. Saul Tozer.</p>
+
+<p>This reverend man had been bound as he descended from his carriage,
+and had remained bound ever since. In that state he had been a spectator
+of the struggle and its consequences, and he now came forward to offer
+his services.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether you remember me, ma'am," said he to Lady
+Dalrymple, "but I looked in at your place at Rome; and in any case I am
+bound to offer you my assistance, since you are companions with me in my
+bonds, which I'd be much obliged if one of you ladies would untie or
+cut. Perhaps it would be best to untie it, as rope's valuable."</p>
+
+<p>At this request Ethel obtained a pair of scissors from one of the
+maids, and after vigorous efforts succeeded in freeing the reverend
+gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Sir, I am very much obliged for this
+<span class = "pagenum">92b</span>
+kind offer," said Lady Dalrymple, "and I avail myself of it gratefully.
+Can you advise us what is best to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ma'am, I've been turning it over in my mind, and have made it
+a subject of prayer; and it seems to me that it wouldn't be bad to go
+out and see the country."</p>
+
+<p>"There are no houses for miles," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever been this road before?" said Tozer.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I was thinking of the part we had passed over."</p>
+
+<p>"True; but the country in front may be different. Didn't that brigand
+captain say something about getting help ahead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, so he did; I remember now," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I wouldn't take his advice generally, but in this matter I
+don't see any harm in following it; so I move that I be a committee of
+one to go ahead and investigate the country and bring help."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thanks, thanks, very much. Really, Sir, this is very kind," said
+Lady Dalrymple.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll go too," said Ethel, as a sudden thought occurred to her.
+"Would you be afraid, aunty dear, to stay here alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, dear. I have no more fear for myself, but I'm afraid
+to trust you out of my sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you need not fear for me," said Ethel. "I shall certainly be as
+safe farther on as I am here. Besides, if we can find help I will know
+best what is wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear, I suppose you may go."</p>
+
+<p>Without further delay Ethel started off, and Tozer walked by her
+side. They went under the fallen tree, and then walked quickly along the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you speak Italian, miss?" asked Tozer.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry for that. I don't either. I'm told it's a fine
+language."</p>
+
+<p>"So I believe; but how very awkward it will be not to be able to
+speak to any person!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the Italian is a kind of offshoot of the Latin, and I can
+scrape together a few Latin words&mdash;enough to make myself
+understood, I do believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you, really? How very fortunate!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is somewhat providential, miss, and I hope I may succeed."</p>
+
+<p>They walked on in silence now for some time. Ethel was too sad to
+talk, and Tozer was busily engaged in recalling all the Latin at his
+command. After a while he began to grow sociable.</p>
+
+<p>"Might I ask, miss, what persuasion you are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Persuasion?" said Ethel, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, 'm; <ins class = "correction" title = "hyphen in original">de-nomination</ins>&mdash;religious body, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! why, I belong to the Church."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! and what church did you say, 'm?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">93</span>
+
+<p>"The Church of England."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm. The 'Piscopalian body. Well, it's a high-toned body."</p>
+
+<p>Ethel gave a faint smile at this whimsical application of a name to
+her church, and then Tozer returned to the charge.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a professor?"</p>
+
+<p>"A what?"</p>
+
+<p>"A professor."</p>
+
+<p>"A professor?" repeated Ethel. "I don't think I <i>quite</i>
+understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, do you belong to the church? Are you a member?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to hear it. It's a high and a holy and a happy perrivelege
+to belong to the church and enjoy the means of grace. I trust you live
+up to your perriveleges?"</p>
+
+<p>"Live what?" asked Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Live up to your perriveleges," repeated Tozer&mdash;"attend on all
+the means of grace&mdash;be often at the assembling of yourself
+together."</p>
+
+<p>"The assembling of myself together? I don't think I <i>quite</i> get
+your meaning," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Meeting, you know&mdash;church-meeting."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; I didn't understand. Oh yes, I always go to church."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Tozer, with a sigh of relief; "and I suppose,
+now, you feel an interest in the cause of missions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Missions? Oh, I don't know. The Roman Catholics practice that to
+some extent, and several of my friends say they feel benefit from a
+mission once a year; but for my part I have not yet any very decided
+leanings to Roman Catholicism."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear me, dear me!" cried Tozer, "that's not what I mean at all;
+I mean Protestant missions to the heathen, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," said Ethel. "I thought you were referring to
+something else."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer was silent now for a few minutes, and then asked her,
+abruptly,</p>
+
+<p>"What's your opinion about the Jews?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Jews?" exclaimed Ethel, looking at him in some surprise, and
+thinking that her companion must be a little insane to carry on such an
+extraordinary conversation with such very abrupt changes&mdash;"the
+Jews?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the Jews."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't like them at all."</p>
+
+<p>"But they're the chosen people."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help that. I don't like them. But then, you know, I never
+really saw much of them."</p>
+
+<p>"I refer to their future prospects," said Tozer&mdash;"to prophecy. I
+should like to ask you how you regard them in that light. Do you believe
+in a spiritual or a temporal Zion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Spiritual Zion? Temporal Zion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, 'm."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, I don't know. I don't think I believe any thing at all
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>"But you <i>must</i> believe in either one or the other&mdash;you've
+<i>got</i> to," said Tozer, positively.</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>don't</i>, you know; and how can I?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">93b</span>
+
+<p>Tozer threw at her a look of commiseration, and began to think that
+his companion was not much better than a heathen. In his own home circle
+he could have put his hand on little girls of ten who were quite at home
+on all these subjects. He was silent for a time, and then began
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to ask you one thing," said he, "very much."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe," asked Tozer, solemnly, "that we're living in the
+Seventh Vial?"</p>
+
+<p>"Vial? Seventh Vial?" said Ethel, in fresh amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the Seventh Vial," said Tozer, in a sepulchral voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Living in the Seventh Vial? I really don't know how one can live in
+a vial."</p>
+
+<p>"The Great Tribulation, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Tribulation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; for instance, now, don't you believe in the Apocalyptic
+Beast?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Ethel, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at any rate, you believe in his number&mdash;you must."</p>
+
+<p>"His number?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the number six, six, six&mdash;six hundred and sixty-six."</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't understand this," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you believe that the Sixth Vial is done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sixth Vial? What, another vial?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and the drying of the Euphrates."</p>
+
+<p>"The Euphrates? drying?" repeated Ethel in a trembling voice. She
+began to be alarmed. She felt sure that this man was insane. She had
+never heard such incoherency in her life. And she was alone with him.
+She stole a timid look, and saw his long, sallow face, on which there
+was now a preoccupied expression, and the look did not reassure her.</p>
+
+<p>But Tozer himself was a little puzzled, and felt sure that his
+companion must have her own opinions on the subject, so he began
+again:</p>
+
+<p>"Now I suppose you've read Fleming on the Papacy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't. I never heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Strange, too. You've heard of Elliot's 'Horæ Apocalypticæ?', I
+suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Ethel, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's all in Cumming&mdash;and you've read him, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cumming? I never heard of him. Who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"What, never heard of Cumming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never."</p>
+
+<p>"And never read his 'Great Tribulation?'"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor his 'Great Expectation?'"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"What! not even his 'Apocalyptic Sketches?'"</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of them."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">94</span>
+
+<p>Tozer looked at her in astonishment; but at this moment they came to
+a turn in the road, when a sight appeared which drew from Ethel an
+expression of joy.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic094.png" width = "457" height = "457"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"TONITRUENDUM EST MALUM!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a little valley on the right, in which was a small hamlet with
+a church. The houses were but small, and could not give them much
+accommodation, but they hoped to find help there.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't trust the people," said Ethel. "I dare say they're all
+brigands; but there ought to be a priest there, and we can appeal to
+him."</p>
+
+<p>This proposal pleased Tozer, who resumed his work of collecting among
+the stores of his memory scraps of Latin which he had once stored away
+there.</p>
+
+<p>The village was at no very great distance away from the road, and
+they reached it in a short time. They went at once to the church. The
+door was open, and a priest, who seemed the village priest, was standing
+there. He was stout, with a good-natured expression on his hearty, rosy
+face, and a fine twinkle in his eye, which lighted up pleasantly as he
+saw the strangers enter.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">94b</span>
+
+<p>Tozer at once held out his hand and shook that of the priest.</p>
+
+<p>"Buon giorno," said the priest.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Parlate Italiano?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Salve, domine," said Tozer, who at once plunged headlong into
+Latin.</p>
+
+<p>"Salve bene," said the priest, in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Quomodo vales?" asked Tozer.</p>
+
+<p>"Optime valeo, Dei gratia. Spero vos valere."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer found the priest's pronunciation a little difficult, but
+managed to understand him.</p>
+
+<p>"Domine," said he, "sumus viatores infelices et innocentes, in quos
+fures nuper impetum fecerunt. Omnia bona nostra arripuerunt&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Fieri non potest!" said the priest.</p>
+
+<p>"Et omnes amicos nostros in captivitatem lachrymabilem
+tractaverunt&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Cor dolet," said the priest; "miseret me vestrum."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">95</span>
+
+<p>"Cujusmodi terra est hæc in qua sustenendum est tot labores?"</p>
+
+<p>The priest sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Tonitruendum est malum!" exclaimed Tozer, excited by the
+recollection of his wrongs.</p>
+
+<p>The priest stared.</p>
+
+<p>"In hostium manibus fuimus, et, bonum tonitru! omnia impedimenta
+amissimus. Est nimis omnipotens malum!"</p>
+
+<p>"Quid vis dicere?" said the priest, looking puzzled. "Quid tibi
+vis?"</p>
+
+<p>"Est nimis sempiternum durum!"</p>
+
+<p>"In nomine omnium sanctorum apostolorumque," cried the priest, "quid
+vis dicere?"</p>
+
+<p>"<ins class = "correction" title = "space in original">Potes ne</ins>
+juvare nos," continued Tozer, "in hoc lachrymabile tempore? Volo unum
+verum vivum virum qui possit&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Diabolus arripiat me si possim unum solum verbum intelligere!" cried
+the priest. "Be jabers if I ondherstan' yez at all at all; an' there ye
+have it."</p>
+
+<p>And with this the priest raised his head, with its puzzled look, and
+scratched that organ with such a natural air, and with such a full Irish
+flavor in his brogue and in his face, that both of his visitors were
+perfectly astounded.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious!" cried Tozer; and seizing the priest's hand in both
+of his, he nearly wrung it off. "Why, what a providence! Why, really,
+now! And you were an Irishman all the time! And why didn't you speak
+English?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure and what made you spake Latin?" cried the priest. "And what was
+it you were thryin' to say wid yer 'sempiternum durum,' and yer
+'tonitruendum malum?' Sure an' ye made me fairly profeen wid yer talk,
+so ye did."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I dare say," said Tozer, candidly&mdash;"I dare say 'tain't
+onlikely that I <i>did</i> introduce one or two Americanisms in the
+Latin; but then, you know, I ain't been in practice."</p>
+
+<p>The priest now brought chairs for his visitors, and, sitting thus in
+the church, they told him about their adventures, and entreated him to
+do something for them. To all this the priest listened with thoughtful
+attention, and when they were done he at once promised to find horses
+for them which would draw the carriages to this hamlet or to the next
+town. Ethel did not think Lady Dalrymple could go further than this
+place, and the priest offered to find some accommodations.</p>
+
+<p>He then left them, and in about half an hour he returned with two or
+three peasants, each of whom had a horse.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll be able to bring the leedies," said the priest, "and haul
+the impty wagons afther thim."</p>
+
+<p>"I think, miss," said Tozer, "that you'd better stay here. It's too
+far for you to walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure an' there's no use in the wide wurruld for <i>you</i> to be
+goin' back," said the priest to Ethel. "You can't do any gud, an' you'd
+betther rist till they come. Yer frind'll be enough."</p>
+
+<p>Ethel at first thought of walking back, but finally she saw that it
+would be quite useless, and so she resolved to remain and wait for her
+aunt. So Tozer went off with the men and
+<span class = "pagenum">95b</span>
+the horses, and the priest asked Ethel all about the affair once more.
+Whatever his opinions were, he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>While he was talking there came a man to the door who beckoned him
+out. He went out, and was gone for some time. He came back at last,
+looking very serious.</p>
+
+<p>"I've just got a missage from thim," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"A message," exclaimed Ethel, "from them? What, from Girasole?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yis. They want a praste, and they've sint for me."</p>
+
+<p>"A priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yis; an' they want a maid-servant to wait on the young leedies; and
+they want thim immajitly; an' I'll have to start off soon. There's a man
+dead among thim that wants to be put undherground to-night, for the rist
+av thim are goin' off in the mornin'; an' accordin' to all I hear, I
+wouldn't wondher but what I'd be wanted for somethin' else afore
+mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my God!" cried Ethel; "they're going to kill him, then!"</p>
+
+<p>"Kill him! Kill who? Sure an' it's not killin' they want me for. It's
+the other&mdash;it's marryin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Marrying?" cried Ethel. "Poor, darling Minnie! Oh, you can
+not&mdash;you will not marry them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure an' I don't know but it's the best thing I can do&mdash;as
+things are," said the priest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!" moaned Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ye've got to bear up, so ye have. There's throubles for all of
+us, an' lots av thim too; an' more'n some av us can bear."</p>
+
+<p>Ethel sat in the darkest and bitterest grief for some time, a prey to
+thoughts and fears that were perfect agony to her.</p>
+
+<p>At last a thought came to her which made her start, and look up, and
+cast at the priest a look full of wonder and entreaty. The priest
+watched her with the deepest sympathy visible on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"We must save them!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure an' it's me that made up me moind to that same," said the
+priest, "only I didn't want to rise yer hopes."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>We</i> must save them," said Ethel, with strong emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>We?</i> What can you do?"</p>
+
+<p>Ethel got up, walked to the church door, looked out, came back,
+looked anxiously all around, and then, resuming her seat, she drew close
+to the priest, and began to whisper, long and anxiously.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXVI" id = "chapXXVI">
+CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">When</span> Dacres had sprung aside into
+the woods in the moment of his fierce rush upon Girasole, he had been
+animated by a sudden thought that escape for himself was possible, and
+that it would be more serviceable to his friends.
+<span class = "pagenum">96</span>
+Thus, then, he had bounded into the woods, and with swift steps he
+forced his way among the trees deeper and deeper into the forest. Some
+of the brigands had given chase, but without effect. Dacres's superior
+strength and agility gave him the advantage, and his love of life was a
+greater stimulus than their thirst for vengeance. In addition to this
+the trees gave every assistance toward the escape of a fugitive, while
+they threw every impediment in the way of a pursuer. The consequence
+was, therefore, that Dacres soon put a great distance between himself
+and his pursuers, and, what is more, he ran in such a circuitous route
+that they soon lost all idea of their own locality, and had not the
+faintest idea where he had gone. In this respect, however, Dacres
+himself was not one whit wiser than they, for he soon found himself
+completely bewildered in the mazes of the forest; and when at length the
+deep silence around gave no further sound of pursuers, he sank down to
+take breath, with no idea whatever in what direction the road lay.</p>
+
+<p>After a brief rest he arose and plunged deeper still into the forest,
+so as to put an additional distance between himself and any possible
+pursuit. He at length found himself at the foot of a precipice about
+fifty feet in height, which was deep in the recesses of the forest. Up
+this he climbed, and found a mossy place among the trees at its top,
+where he could find rest, and at the same time be in a more favorable
+position either for hearing or seeing any signs of approaching
+pursuers.</p>
+
+<p>Here, then, he flung himself down to rest, and soon buried himself
+among thoughts of the most exciting kind. The scene which he had just
+left was fresh in his mind, and amidst all the fury of that strife there
+rose most prominent in his memory the form of the two ladies, Minnie
+standing calm and unmoved, while Mrs. Willoughby was convulsed with
+agitated feeling. What was the cause of that? Could it be possible that
+his wife had indeed contrived such a plot with the Italian? Was it
+possible that she had chosen this way of striking two blows, by one of
+which she could win her Italian, and by the other of which she could get
+rid of himself, her husband? Such had been his conjecture during the
+fury of the fight, and the thought had roused him up to his Berserker
+madness; but now, as it recurred again, he saw other things to shake his
+full belief. Her agitation seemed too natural.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, on the other hand, he asked himself, why should she not show
+agitation? She was a consummate actress. She could show on her beautiful
+face the softness and the tenderness of an angel of light while a demon
+reigned in her malignant heart. Why should she not choose this way of
+keeping up appearances? She had betrayed her friends, and sought her
+husband's death; but would she wish to have her crime made manifest? Not
+she. It was for this, then, that she wept and clung to the
+child-angel.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">96b</span>
+
+<p>Such thoughts as these were not at all adapted to give comfort to his
+mind, or make his rest refreshing. Soon, by such fancies, he kindled
+anew his old rage, and his blood rose to fever heat, so that inaction
+became no longer tolerable. He had rest enough. He started up, and
+looked all around, and listened attentively. No sound arose and no sight
+appeared which at all excited suspicion. He determined to set forth once
+more, he scarcely knew where. He had a vague idea of finding his way
+back to the road, so as to be able to assist the ladies, together with
+another idea, equally ill defined, of coming upon the brigands, finding
+the Italian, and watching for an opportunity to wreak vengeance upon
+this assassin and his guilty partner.</p>
+
+<p>He drew his knife once more from a leathern sheath on the inside of
+the breast of his coat, into which he had thrust it some time before,
+and holding this he set forth, watchfully and warily. On the left side
+of the precipice the ground sloped down, and at the bottom of this there
+was a narrow valley. It seemed to him that this might be the course of
+some spring torrent, and that by following its descent he might come out
+upon some stream. With this intention he descended to the valley, and
+then walked along, following the descent of the ground, and keeping
+himself as much as possible among the thickest growths of the trees.</p>
+
+<p>The ground descended very gradually, and the narrow valley wound
+along among rolling hills that were covered with trees and brush. As he
+confined himself to the thicker parts of this, his progress was
+necessarily slow; but at the end of that turn he saw before him
+unmistakable signs of the neighborhood of some open place. Before him he
+saw the sky in such a way that it showed the absence of forest trees. He
+now moved on more cautiously, and, quitting the valley, he crept up the
+hill-slope among the brush as carefully as possible, until he was at a
+sufficient height, and then, turning toward the open, he crept forward
+from cover to cover. At length he stopped. A slight eminence was before
+him, beyond which all was open, yet concealed from his view. Descending
+the slope a little, he once more advanced, and finally emerged at the
+edge of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>He found himself upon a gentle declivity. Immediately in front of him
+lay a lake, circular in shape, and about a mile in diameter, embosomed
+among wooded hills. At first he saw no signs of any habitation; but as
+his eyes wandered round he saw upon his right, about a quarter of a mile
+away, an old stone house, and beyond this smoke curling up from among
+the forest trees on the borders of the lake.</p>
+
+<p>The scene startled him. It was so quiet, so lonely, and so deserted
+that it seemed a fit place for a robber's haunt. Could this be indeed
+the home of his enemies, and had he thus so wonderfully come upon them
+in the very midst of their retreat? He believed that it was so. A little
+further observation showed
+<span class = "pagenum">97</span>
+figures among the trees moving to and fro, and soon he distinguished
+faint traces of smoke in other places, which he had not seen at first,
+as though there were more fires than one.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres exulted with a fierce and vengeful joy over this discovery. He
+felt now not like the fugitive, but rather the pursuer. He looked down
+upon this as the tiger looks from his jungle upon some Indian village.
+His foes were numerous, but he was concealed, and his presence
+unsuspected. He grasped his dagger with a firmer clutch, and then
+pondered for a few minutes on what he had better do next.</p>
+
+<p>One thing was necessary first of all, and that was to get as near as
+he possibly could without discovery. A slight survey of the situation
+showed him that he might venture much nearer; and his eye ran along the
+border of the lake which lay between him and the old house, and he saw
+that it was all covered over with a thick fringe of trees and
+brush-wood. The narrow valley along which he had come ended at the shore
+of the lake just below him on his right, and beyond this the shore arose
+again to a height equal to where he now was. To gain that opposite
+height was now his first task.</p>
+
+<p>Before starting he looked all around, so as to be sure that he was
+not observed. Then he went back for some distance, after which he
+descended into the valley, crouching low, and crawling stealthily among
+the brush-wood. Moving thus, he at length succeeded in reaching the
+opposite slope without appearing to have attracted any attention from
+any pursuers. Up this slope he now moved as carefully as ever, not
+relaxing his vigilance one jot, but, if possible, calling into play even
+a larger caution as he found himself drawing nearer to those whom he
+began to regard as his prey.</p>
+
+<p>Moving up this slope, then, in this way, he at length attained the
+top, and found himself here among the forest trees and underbrush. They
+were here even denser than they were on the place which he had just
+left. As he moved along he saw no indications that they had been
+traversed by human footsteps. Every thing gave indication of an unbroken
+and undisturbed solitude. After feeling his way along here with all the
+caution which he could exercise, he finally ventured toward the shore of
+the lake, and found himself able to go to the very edge without coming
+to any open space or crossing any path.</p>
+
+<p>On looking forth from the top of the bank he found that he had not
+only drawn much nearer to the old house, but that he could see the whole
+line of shore. He now saw that there were some men by the door of the
+house, and began to suspect that this was nothing else than the
+headquarters and citadel of the brigands. The sight of the shore now
+showed him that he could approach very much nearer, and unless the
+brigands, or whoever they were, kept scouts out, he would be able to
+reach a point immediately overlooking the house, from which he could
+<span class = "pagenum">97b</span>
+survey it at his leisure. To reach this point became now his next
+aim.</p>
+
+<p>The wood being dense, Dacres found no more difficulty in passing
+through this than in traversing what lay behind him. The caution which
+he exercised here was as great as ever, and his progress was as slow,
+but as sure. At length he found himself upon the desired point, and,
+crawling cautiously forward to the shore, he looked down upon the very
+old house which he had desired to reach.</p>
+
+<p>The house stood close by the lake, upon a sloping bank which lay
+below. It did not seem to be more than fifty yards away. The doors and
+windows were gone. Five or six ill-looking fellows were near the
+doorway, some sprawling on the ground, others lolling and lounging
+about. One glance at the men was sufficient to assure him that they were
+the brigands, and also to show him that they kept no guard or scout or
+outpost of any kind, at least in this direction.</p>
+
+<p>Here, then, Dacres lay and watched. He could not wish for a better
+situation. With his knife in his hand, ready to defend himself in case
+of need, and his whole form concealed perfectly by the thick underbrush
+into the midst of which he had crawled, he peered forth through the
+overhanging leaves, and watched in breathless interest. From the point
+where he now was he could see the shore beyond the house, where the
+smoke was rising. He could now see that there were no less than four
+different columns of smoke ascending from as many fires. He saw as many
+as twenty or thirty figures moving among the trees, made conspicuous by
+the bright colors of their costumes. They seemed to be busy about
+something which he could not make out.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, while his eye roved over the scene, it was struck by some
+fluttering color at the open window of the old house. He had not noticed
+this before. He now looked at it attentively. Before long he saw a
+figure cross the window and return. It was a female figure.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of this revived all that agitation which he had felt
+before, but which had been calmed during the severe efforts which he had
+been putting forth. There was but one thought in his mind, and but one
+desire in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>His wife.</p>
+
+<p>He crouched low, with a more feverish dread of discovery at this
+supreme moment, and a fiercer thirst for some further revelation which
+might disclose what he suspected. His breathing came thick and hard, and
+his brow lowered gloomily over his gleaming eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He waited thus for some minutes, and the figure passed again.</p>
+
+<p>He still watched.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a figure appeared at the window. It was a young girl, a
+blonde, with short golden curls. The face was familiar indeed to him.
+Could he ever forget it? There it was full before him, turned toward
+him, as though that one, by some strange spiritual sympathy,
+<span class = "pagenum">98</span>
+was aware of his presence, and was thus turning toward him this mute
+appeal. Her face was near enough for its expression to be visible. He
+could distinguish the childish face, with its soft, sweet innocence, and
+he knew that upon it there was now that piteous, pleading, beseeching
+look which formerly had so thrilled his heart. And it was thus that
+Dacres saw his child-angel.</p>
+
+<p>A prisoner, turning toward him this appeal! What was the cause, and
+what did the Italian want of this innocent child? Such was his thought.
+What could his fiend of a wife gain by the betrayal of that angelic
+being? Was it possible that even her demon soul could compass iniquity
+like this? He had thought that he had fathomed her capacity for
+malignant wickedness; but the presence here of the child-angel in the
+power of these miscreants showed him that this capacity was indeed
+unfathomable. At this sudden revelation of sin so enormous his very soul
+turned sick with horror.</p>
+
+<p>He watched, and still looked with an anxiety that was increasing to
+positive pain.</p>
+
+<p>And now, after one brief glance, Minnie drew back into the room.
+There was nothing more to be seen for some time, but at last another
+figure appeared.</p>
+
+<p>He expected this; he was waiting for it; he was sure of it; yet deep
+down in the bottom of his heart there was a hope that it might not be
+so, that his suspicions, in this case at least, might be unfounded. But
+now the proof came; it was made manifest here before his eyes, and in
+the light of day.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself a low groan escaped him. He buried his face in
+his hands and shut out the sight. Then suddenly he raised his head again
+and stared, as though in this face there was an irresistible fascination
+by which a spell was thrown over him.</p>
+
+<p>It was the face of Mrs. Willoughby&mdash;youthful, beautiful, and
+touching in its tender grace. Tears were now in those dark, luminous
+eyes, but they were unseen by him. Yet he could mark the despondency of
+her attitude; he could see a certain wild way of looking up and down and
+in all directions; he noted how her hands grasped the window-ledge as if
+for support.</p>
+
+<p>And oh, beautiful demon angel, he thought, if you could but know how
+near you are to the avenger! Why are you so anxious, my demon wife? Are
+you impatient because your Italian is delaying? Can you not live for
+five seconds longer without him? Are you looking in all directions to
+see where he is? Don't fret; he'll soon be here.</p>
+
+<p>And now there came a confirmation of his thoughts. He was not
+surprised; he knew it; he suspected it. It was all as it should be. Was
+it not in the confident expectation of this that he had come here with
+his dagger&mdash;on their trail?</p>
+
+<p>It was Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>He came from the place, further along the shore, where the brigands
+were around their
+<span class = "pagenum">98b</span>
+fires. He was walking quickly. He had a purpose. It was with a renewed
+agony that Dacres watched his enemy&mdash;coming to visit his wife. The
+intensity of that thirst for vengeance, which had now to be checked
+until a better opportunity, made his whole frame tremble. A wild desire
+came to him then and there to bound down upon his enemy, and kill and be
+killed in the presence of his wife. But the other brigands deterred him.
+These men might interpose and save the Italian, and make him a prisoner.
+No; he must wait till he could meet his enemy on something like equal
+terms&mdash;when he could strike a blow that would not be in vain. Thus
+he overmastered himself.</p>
+
+<p>He saw Girasole enter the house. He watched breathlessly. The time
+seemed long indeed. He could not hear any thing; the conversation, if
+there was any, was carried on in a low tone. He could not see any thing;
+those who conversed kept quiet; no one passed in front of the window. It
+was all a mystery, and this made the time seem longer. At length Dacres
+began to think that Girasole would not go at all. A long time passed.
+Hours went away, and still Girasole did not quit the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was now sundown. Dacres had eaten nothing since morning, but the
+conflict of passion drove away all hunger or thirst. The approach of
+darkness was in accordance with his own gloomy wishes. Twilight in Italy
+is short. Night would soon be over all.</p>
+
+<p>The house was on the slope of the bank. At the corner nearest him the
+house was sunk into the ground in such a way that it looked as though
+one might climb into the upper story window. As Dacres looked he made up
+his mind to attempt it. By standing here on tiptoe he could catch the
+upper window-ledge with his hands. He was strong. He was tall. His enemy
+was in the house. The hour was at hand. He was the man.</p>
+
+<p>Another hour passed.</p>
+
+<p>All was still.</p>
+
+<p>There was a flickering lamp in the hall, but the men seemed to be
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Another hour passed.</p>
+
+<p>There was no noise.</p>
+
+<p>Then Dacres ventured down. He moved slowly and cautiously, crouching
+low, and thus traversing the intervening space.</p>
+
+<p>He neared the house and touched it. Before him was the window of the
+lower story. Above him was the window of the upper story. He lifted up
+his hands. They could reach the window-ledge.</p>
+
+<p>He put his long, keen knife between his teeth, and caught at the
+upper window-ledge. Exerting all his strength, he raised himself up so
+high that he could fling one elbow over. For a moment he hung thus, and
+waited to take breath and listen.</p>
+
+<p>There was a rush below. Half a dozen shadowy forms surrounded him. He
+had been seen. He had been trapped.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">99</span>
+
+<p>He dropped down and, seizing his knife, struck right and left.</p>
+
+<p>In vain. He was hurled to the ground and bound tight.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXVII" id = "chapXXVII">
+CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+FACE TO FACE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Hawbury</span>, on his capture, had been at
+once taken into the woods, and led and pushed on by no gentle hands. He
+had thus gone on until he had found himself by that same lake which
+others of the party had come upon in the various ways which have been
+described. Toward this lake he was taken, until finally his party
+reached the old house, which they entered. It has already been said that
+it was a two-story house. It was also of stone, and strongly built. The
+door was in the middle of it, and rooms were on each side of the hall.
+The interior plan of the house was peculiar, for the hall did not run
+through, but consisted of a square room, and the stone steps wound
+spirally from the lower hall to the upper one. There were three rooms up
+stairs, one taking up one end of the house, which was occupied by Mrs.
+Willoughby and Minnie; another in the rear of the house, into which a
+door opened from the upper hall, close by the head of the stairs; and a
+third, which was opposite the room first mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury was taken to this house, and led up stairs into this room in
+the rear of the house. At the end farthest from the door he saw a heap
+of straw with a few dirty rugs upon it. In the wall a beam was set, to
+which an iron ring was fastened. He was taken toward this bed, and here
+his legs were bound together, and the rope that secured them was run
+around the iron ring so as to allow of no more motion than a few feet.
+Having thus secured the prisoner, the men left him to his own
+meditations.</p>
+
+<p>The room was perfectly bare of furniture, nothing being in it but the
+straw and the dirty rugs. Hawbury could not approach to the windows, for
+he was bound in a way which prevented that. In fact, he could not move
+in any direction, for his arms and legs were fastened in such a way that
+he could scarcely raise himself from where he was sitting. He therefore
+was compelled to remain in one position, and threw himself down upon the
+straw on his side, with his face to the wall, for he found that position
+easier than any other. In this way he lay for some time, until at length
+he was roused by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. Several
+people were passing his room. He heard the voice of Girasole. He
+listened with deep attention. For some time there was no reply. At
+length there was the sound of a woman's voice&mdash;clear, plain, and
+unmistakable. It was a fretful voice of complaint. Girasole was trying
+to answer it. After a time Girasole left. Then all was still. Then
+Girasole returned. Then there was a clattering
+<span class = "pagenum">99b</span>
+noise on the stairs, and the bumping of some heavy weight, and the heavy
+breathing of men. Then he heard Girasole say something, after which
+arose Minnie's voice, close by, as though she was in the hall, and her
+words were, "Oh, take it away, take it away!" followed by long
+reproaches, which Hawbury did not fully understand.</p>
+
+<p>This showed him that Minnie, at least, was a prisoner, and in this
+house, and in the adjoining room, along with some one whom he rightly
+supposed was Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>After this there was a further silence for some time, which at last
+was broken by fresh sounds of trampling and shuffling, together with the
+confused directions of several voices all speaking at once. Hawbury
+listened, and turned on his couch of straw so as to see any thing which
+presented itself. The clatter and the noise approached nearer, ascending
+the stairs, until at last he saw that they were entering his room. Two
+of the brigands came first, carrying something carefully. In a few
+moments the burden which they bore was revealed.</p>
+
+<p>It was a rude litter, hastily made from bushes fastened together.
+Upon this lay the dead body of a man, his white face upturned, and his
+limbs stiffened in the rigidity of death. Hawbury did not remember very
+distinctly any of the particular events of his confused struggle with
+the brigands; but he was not at all surprised to see that there had been
+one of the ruffians sent to his account. The brigands who carried in
+their dead companion looked at the captive with a sullen ferocity and a
+scowling vengefulness, which showed plainly that they would demand of
+him a reckoning for their comrade's blood if it were only in their
+power. But they did not delay, nor did they make any actual
+demonstrations to Hawbury. They placed the corpse of their comrade upon
+the floor in the middle of the room, and then went out.</p>
+
+<p>The presence of the corpse only added to the gloom of Hawbury's
+situation, and he once more turned his face to the wall, so as to shut
+out the sight. Once more he gave himself up to his own thoughts, and so
+the time passed slowly on. He heard no sounds now from the room where
+Miss Fay was confined. He heard no noise from the men below, and could
+not tell whether they were still guarding the door, or had gone away.
+Various projects came to him, foremost among which was the idea of
+escaping. Bribery seemed the only possible way. There was about this,
+however, the same difficulty which Mrs. Willoughby had found&mdash;his
+ignorance of the language. He thought that this would be an effectual
+bar to any communication, and saw no other alternative than to wait
+Girasole's pleasure. It seemed to him that a ransom would be asked, and
+he felt sure, from Girasole's offensive manner, that the ransom would be
+large. But there was no help for it. He felt more troubled about Miss
+Fay; for Girasole's remarks about her seemed to
+<span class = "pagenum">100</span>
+point to views of his own which were incompatible with her
+liberation.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of these reflections another noise arose below. It was a
+steady tramp of two or three men walking. The noise ascended the
+stairway, and drew nearer and nearer. Hawbury turned once more, and saw
+two men entering the room, carrying between them a box about six feet
+long and eighteen inches or two feet wide. It was coarsely but strongly
+made, and was undoubtedly intended as a coffin for the corpse of the
+brigand. The men put the coffin down against the wall and retired. After
+a few minutes they returned again with the coffin lid. They then lifted
+the dead body into the coffin, and one of them put the lid in its place
+and secured it with half a dozen screws. After this Hawbury was once
+more left alone. He found this far more tolerable, for now he had no
+longer before his very eyes the abhorrent sight of the dead body. Hidden
+in its coffin, it no longer gave offense to his sensibilities. Once
+more, therefore, Hawbury turned his thoughts toward projects of escape,
+and discussed in his mind the probabilities for and against.</p>
+
+<p>The day had been long, and longer still did it seem to the captive as
+hour after hour passed slowly by. He could not look at his watch, which
+his captors had spared; but from the shadows as they fell through the
+windows, and from the general appearance of the sky, he knew that the
+close of the day was not far off. He began to wonder that he was left so
+long alone and in suspense, and to feel impatient to know the worst as
+to his fate. Why did not some of them come to tell him? Where was
+Girasole? Was he the chief? Were the brigands debating about his fate,
+or were they thus leaving him in suspense so as to make him despondent
+and submissive to their terms? From all that he had ever heard of
+brigands and their ways, the latter seemed not unlikely; and this
+thought made him see the necessity of guarding himself against being too
+impatient for freedom, and too compliant with any demands of theirs.</p>
+
+<p>From these thoughts he was at last roused by footsteps which ascended
+the stairs. He turned and looked toward the door. A man entered.</p>
+
+<p>It was Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>He entered slowly, with folded arms, and coming about half-way, he
+stood and surveyed the prisoner in silence. Hawbury, with a sudden
+effort, brought himself up to a sitting posture, and calmly surveyed the
+Italian.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," asked Hawbury, "I should like to know how long you intend to
+keep up this sort of thing? What are you going to do about it? Name your
+price, man, and we'll discuss it, and settle upon something
+reasonable."</p>
+
+<p>"My price?" repeated Girasole, with peculiar emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Of course I understand you fellows. It's your trade, you know.
+You've caught me,
+<span class = "pagenum">100b</span>
+and, of course, you'll try to make the best of me, and all that sort of
+thing. So don't keep me waiting."</p>
+
+<p>"Inglis milor," said Girasole, with a sharp, quick accent, his face
+flushing up as he spoke&mdash;"Inglis milor, dere is no price as you
+mean, an' no ransom. De price is one dat you will not wis to pay."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come, now, my good fellow, really you must remember that I'm
+tied up, and not in a position to be chaffed. Bother your Italian
+humbug! Don't speak in these confounded figures of speech, you know, but
+say up and down&mdash;how much?"</p>
+
+<p>"De brigands haf talk you ovair, an' dey will haf no price."</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil is all that rot about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dey will haf youair blood."</p>
+
+<p>"My blood?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, my good fellow, what good is that going to do them?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is vengeance," said Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"Vengeance? Pooh! Nonsense! What rot! What have I ever done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dat&mdash;dere&mdash;his blood," said Girasole, pointing to the
+coffin.</p>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic101.png" width = "345" height = "457"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"INGLIS MILOR, I SALL HAF YOUAIR LIFE."</p>
+
+<p>"What! that scoundrel? Why, man alive, are you crazy? That was a fair
+stand-up fight. That is, it was two English against twenty Italians, if
+you call that fair; but perhaps it is. His blood! By Jove! Cool, that!
+Come, I like it."</p>
+
+<p>"An' more," said Girasole, who now grew more excited. "It is not de
+brigand who condemn you; it is also me. I condemn you."</p>
+
+<p>"You?" said Hawbury, elevating his eyebrows in some surprise, and
+fixing a cool stare upon Girasole. "And what the devil's <i>this</i> row
+about, I should like to know? I don't know <i>you</i>. What have you
+against <i>me</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Inglis milor," cried Girasole, who was stung to the quick by a
+certain indescribable yet most irritating superciliousness in Hawbury's
+tone&mdash;"Inglis milor, you sall see what you sall soffair. You sall
+die! Dere is no hope. You are condemn by de brigand. You also are
+condemn by me, for you insult me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of all the beastly rot I ever heard, this is about the worst!
+What do you mean by all this infernal nonsense? Insult you! What would I
+insult you for? Why, man alive, you're as mad as a March hare! If I
+thought you were a gentleman, I'd&mdash;by Jove, I will, too! See here,
+you fellow: I'll fight you for it&mdash;pistols, or any thing. Come,
+now. I'll drop all considerations of rank. I'll treat you as if you were
+a real count, and not a sham one. Come, now. What do you say? Shall we
+have it out? Pistols&mdash;in the woods there. You've got all your
+infernal crew around you, you know. Well? What? You won't? By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Girasole's gesture showed that he declined the proposition.</p>
+
+<p>"Inglis milor," said he, with a venomous
+<span class = "pagenum">101</span>
+glitter in his eyes, "I sall haf youair life&mdash;wis de pistol, but
+not in de duello. I sall blow your brain out myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Blow and be hanged, then!" said Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>And with these words he fell back on his straw, and took no further
+notice of the Italian.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXVIII" id = "chapXXVIII">
+CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+TORN ASUNDER.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">When</span> Dacres made his attempt upon
+the house he was not so unobserved as he supposed himself to be. Minnie
+and Mrs. Willoughby happened at that time to be sitting on the floor by
+the window, one on each side, and they were looking out. They had chosen
+the seat as affording some prospect of the outer world. There was in
+Mrs. Willoughby a certain instinctive feeling that if any rescue came,
+it would come from the land side; and, therefore, though the hope was
+faint indeed, it nevertheless
+<span class = "pagenum">101b</span>
+was sufficiently well defined to inspire her with an uneasy and
+incessant vigilance. Thus, then, she had seated herself by the window,
+and Minnie had taken her place on the opposite side, and the two
+sisters, with clasped hands, sat listening to the voices of the
+night.</p>
+
+<p>At length they became aware of a movement upon the bank just above
+them and lying opposite. The sisters clasped one another's hands more
+closely, and peered earnestly through the gloom. It was pretty dark, and
+the forest threw down a heavy shadow, but still their eyes were by this
+time accustomed to the dark, and they could distinguish most of the
+objects there. Among these they soon distinguished a moving figure; but
+what it was, whether man or beast, they could not make out.</p>
+
+<p>This moving figure was crawling down the bank. There was no cover to
+afford concealment, and it was evident that he was trusting altogether
+to the concealment of the darkness. It was a hazardous experiment, and
+Mrs. Willoughby trembled in suspense.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie, however, did not tremble at all, nor
+<span class = "pagenum">102</span>
+was the suspense at all painful. When Mrs. Willoughby first cautiously
+directed her attention to it in a whisper, Minnie thought it was some
+animal.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Kitty dear," she said, speaking back in a whisper, "why, it's
+an animal; I wonder if the creature is a wild beast. I'm sure I think
+it's very dangerous, and no doors or windows. But it's <i>always</i> the
+way. He wouldn't give me a chair; and so I dare say I shall be eaten up
+by a bear before morning."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie gave utterance to this expectation without the slightest
+excitement, just as though the prospect of becoming food for a bear was
+one of the very commonest incidents of her life.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't think it's a bear."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, it's a tiger or a lion, or perhaps a wolf. I'm sure
+<i>I</i> don't see what difference it makes what one is eaten by, when
+one <i>has</i> to be eaten."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, tremulously.</p>
+
+<p>"A man!&mdash;nonsense, Kitty darling. A man walks; he doesn't go on
+all-fours, except when he is very, very small."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! it's some one coming to help us. Watch him, Minnie dear. Oh,
+how dangerous!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think so?" said Minnie, with evident pleasure. "Now
+that is really kind. But I wonder who it <i>can</i> be?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby squeezed her hand, and made no reply. She was
+watching the slow and cautious movement of the shadowy figure.</p>
+
+<p>"He's coming nearer!" said she, tremulously.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie felt her sister's hand throb at the quick movement of her
+heart, and heard her short, quick breathing.</p>
+
+<p>"Who <i>can</i> it be, I wonder?" said Minnie, full of curiosity, but
+without any excitement at all.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Minnie!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's so terrible."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"This suspense. Oh, I'm so afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid! Why, I'm not afraid at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! he'll be caught."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he won't," said Minnie, confidently. "I <i>knew</i> he'd come.
+They <i>always</i> do. Don't be afraid that he'll be caught, or that
+he'll fail. They <i>never</i> fail. They always <i>will</i> save me.
+Wait till your life has been saved as often as mine has, Kitty darling.
+Oh, I expected it all! I was thinking a little while ago he ought to be
+here soon."</p>
+
+<p>"He! Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, any person; the person who is going to save me this time. I
+don't know, of course, who he is; some horrid man, of course. And
+then&mdash;oh dear!&mdash;I'll have it all over again. He'll carry me
+away on his back, and through those wretched woods, and bump me against
+the trees and things. Then he'll get me to the road, and put me on a
+horrid old horse, and
+<span class = "pagenum">102b</span>
+gallop away. And by that time it will be morning. And then he'll
+propose. And so there'll be another. And I don't know what I
+<i>shall</i> do about it. Oh dear!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby had not heard half of this. All her soul was intent
+upon the figure outside. She only pressed her sister's hand, and gave a
+warning "Hus-s-s-h!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know one thing I <i>do</i> wish," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>Her sister made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I do wish it would turn out to be that nice, dear, good, kind Rufus
+K. Gunn. I don't want any more of them. And I'm sure he's nicer than
+this horrid Count, who wouldn't take the trouble to get me even a chair.
+And yet he pretends to be fond of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hus-s-s-h!" said her sister.</p>
+
+<p>But Minnie was irrepressible.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want any horrid stranger. But, oh, Kitty darling, it would
+be so awfully funny if he were to be caught! and then he <i>couldn't</i>
+propose, you know."</p>
+
+<p>By this time the figure had reached the house. Minnie peeped over and
+looked down. Then she drew back her head and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" she said, in a plaintive tone.</p>
+
+<p>"What, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Kitty darling, do you know he really looks a little like that
+great, big, horrid man that ran with me down the volcano, and then
+pretended he was my dear papa. And here he comes to save me again. Oh,
+what <i>shall</i> I do? Won't you pretend you're me, Kitty darling, and
+please go yourself? Oh, ple-e-ease do!"</p>
+
+<p>But now Minnie was interrupted by two strong hands grasping the
+window-sill. A moment after a shadowy head arose above it. Mrs.
+Willoughby started back, but through the gloom she was able to recognize
+the strongly marked face of Scone Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he stared through the darkness. Then he flung his elbow
+over.</p>
+
+<p>There arose a noise below. There was a rush. The figure disappeared
+from the window. A furious struggle followed, in the midst of which
+arose fierce oaths and deep breathings, and the sound of blows. Then the
+struggle subsided, and they heard footsteps tramping heavily. They
+followed the sound into the house. They heard men coming up the stairs
+and into the hall outside. Then they all moved into, the front-room
+opposite theirs. After a few minutes they heard the steps descending the
+stairs. By this they judged that the prisoner had been taken to that
+room which was on the other side of the hall and in the front of the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>"There dies our last hope!" said Mrs. Willoughby, and burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't see what you're crying about," said Minnie. "You
+certainly oughtn't to want me to be carried off again by that person. If
+he had me, he'd <i>never</i> give me up&mdash;especially after saving me
+twice."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby made no reply, and the sisters sat in silence for
+nearly an hour. They
+<span class = "pagenum">103</span>
+were then aroused by the approach of footsteps which entered the house;
+after which voices were heard below.</p>
+
+<p>Then some one ascended the stairs, and they saw the flicker of a
+light. It was Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>He came into the room with a small lamp, holding his hand in front of
+the flame. This lamp he set down in a corner out of the draught, and
+then turned to the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>"Miladi," said Girasole, in a gentle voice, "I am ver pained to haf
+to tella you dat it is necessaire for you to separat dis
+night&mdash;till to-morra."</p>
+
+<p>"To separate?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"Only till to-morra, miladi. Den you sall be togeder foravva. But it
+is now necessaire. Dere haf ben an attemp to a rescue. I mus guard again
+dis&mdash;an' it mus be done by a separazion. If you are togeder you
+might run. Dis man was almos up here. It was only chance dat I saw him
+in time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Sir," cried Mrs. Willoughby, "you can not&mdash;you will not
+separate us. You can not have the heart to. I promise most solemnly that
+we will not escape if you only leave us together."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I can not," said he, firmly; "de mees is too precious. I dare not.
+If you are prisonaire se will not try to fly, an' so I secure her de
+more; but if you are togeder you will find some help. You will bribe de
+men. I can not trust dem."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do not separate us. Tie us. Bind us. Fasten us with chains.
+Fasten me with chains, but leave me with her."</p>
+
+<p>"Chains? nonsance; dat is impossibile. Chains? no, miladi. You sall
+be treat beautiful. No chain, no; notin but affection&mdash;till
+to-morra, an' den de mees sall be my wife. De priest haf come, an' it
+sall be allaright to-morra, an' you sall be wit her again. An' now you
+haf to come away; for if you do not be pleasant, I sall not be able to
+'low you to stay to-morra wit de mees when se become my Contessa."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby flung her arms about her sister, and clasped her in a
+convulsive embrace.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Kitty darling," said Minnie, "don't cry, or you'll make me cry
+too. It's just what we might have expected, you know. He's been as
+unkind as he could be about the chair, and of course he'll do all he can
+to tease me. Don't cry, dear. You must go, I suppose, since that horrid
+man talks and scolds so about it; only be sure to be back early; but how
+I am <i>ever</i> to pass the night here all alone and standing up, I'm
+sure <i>I</i> don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Alone? Oh no," said Girasole. "Charming mees, you sall not be alone;
+I haf guard for dat. I haf sent for a maid."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want any of your horrid old maids. I want my own maid,
+or none at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Se sall be your own maid. I haf sent for her."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">103b</span>
+
+<p>"What, my own maid?&mdash;Dowlas?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am ver sorry, but it is not dat one. It is anoder&mdash;an
+Italian."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think that is <i>very</i> unkind, when you <i>know</i> I
+can't speak a word of the language. But you <i>always</i> do all you can
+to tease me. I <i>wish</i> I had never seen you."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole looked hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming mees," said he, "I will lay down my life for you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want you to lay down your life. I want Dowlas."</p>
+
+<p>"And you sall haf Dowlas to-morra. An' to-night you sall haf de
+Italian maid."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose I must," said Minnie, resignedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Miladi," said Girasole, turning to Mrs. Willoughby, "I am ver sorry
+for dis leetle accommodazion. De room where you mus go is de one where I
+haf put de man dat try to safe you. He is tied fast. You mus promis you
+will not loose him. Haf you a knife?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mrs. Willoughby, in a scarce audible tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not mourn. You sall be able to talk to de prisonaire and get
+consolazion. But come."</p>
+
+<p>With these words Girasole led the way out into the hall, and into the
+front-room on the opposite side. He carried the lamp in his hand. Mrs.
+Willoughby saw a figure lying at the other end of the room on the floor.
+His face was turned toward them, but in the darkness she could not see
+it plainly. Some straw was heaped up in the corner next her.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere," said Girasole, "is your bed. I am sorra. Do not be
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>With this he went away.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby flung herself on her knees, and bowed her head and
+wept convulsively. She heard the heavy step of Girasole as he went down
+stairs. Her first impulse was to rush back to her sister. But she
+dreaded discovery, and felt that disobedience would only make her fate
+harder.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic104.png" width = "219" height = "319"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"ONE ARM WENT AROUND HER NECK."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXIX" id = "chapXXIX">
+CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+FOUND AT LAST.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">In</span> a few moments Girasole came back
+and entered Minnie's room. He was followed by a woman who was dressed in
+the garb of an Italian peasant girl. Over her head she wore a hood to
+protect her from the night air, the limp folds of which hung over her
+face. Minnie looked carelessly at this woman and then at Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming mees," said Girasole, "I haf brought you a maid for dis
+night. When we leaf dis you sall haf what maid you wis."</p>
+
+<p>"That horrid old fright!" said Minnie. "I don't want her."</p>
+
+<p>"You sall only haf her for dis night," said Girasole. "You will be
+taken care for."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose nobody cares for what <i>I</i> want,"
+<span class = "pagenum">104</span>
+said Minnie, "and I may as well speak to the wall, for all the good it
+does."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole smiled and bowed, and put his hand on his heart, and then
+called down the stairs:</p>
+
+<p>"Padre Patricio!"</p>
+
+<p>A solid, firm step now sounded on the stairs, and in a few moments
+the priest came up. Girasole led the way into Hawbury's room. The
+prisoner lay on his side. He was in a deep sleep. Girasole looked in
+wonder at the sleeper who was spending in this way the last hours of his
+life, and then pointed to the coffin.</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said he, in Italian, "is the body. When the grave is dug they
+will tell you. You must stay here. You will not be afraid to be with the
+dead."</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole now retreated and went down stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Soon all was still.</p>
+
+<p>The Italian woman had been standing where she had stopped ever since
+she first came into the room. Minnie had not paid any attention to her,
+but at last she noticed this.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>wish</i> you wouldn't stand there in that way. You really make
+me feel quite nervous. And what with the dark, and not having any light,
+and losing poor dear Kitty, and not having any chair to sit upon, really
+one's life is scarce worth having. But all this is thrown away, as you
+can't speak English&mdash;and how horrid it is to have no one to talk
+to."</p>
+
+<p>The woman made no reply, but with a quiet, stealthy step she drew
+near to Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want? You horrid creature, keep away," said Minnie,
+drawing back in some alarm.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">104b</span>
+
+<p>"Minnie dear!" said the woman. "H-s-s-s-h!" she added, in a low
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie started.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>One arm went around her neck, and another hand went over her mouth,
+and the woman drew nearer to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a word. H-s-s-s-h! I've risked my life. The priest brought
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my darling, darling love of an Ethel!" said Minnie, who was
+overwhelmed with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"H-s-s-s-h!"</p>
+
+<p>"But how can I h-s-s-s-h when I'm so perfectly frantic with delight?
+Oh, you darling pet!"</p>
+
+<p>"H-s-s-s-h! Not another word. I'll be discovered and lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear, I'll speak very, very low. But how did you come
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"The priest brought me."</p>
+
+<p>"The priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He was sent for, you know; and I thought I could help you, and
+he is going to save you."</p>
+
+<p>"He! Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"The priest, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"The priest! Is he a Roman Catholic priest, Ethel darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"And <i>he</i> is going to save me this time, is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how perfectly lovely that is! and it was so kind and thoughtful
+in you! Now this is really quite nice, for you know I've <i>longed</i>
+so to be saved by a priest. These horrid men, you know, all go and
+propose the moment they save one's life; but a priest <i>can't</i>, you
+know&mdash;no, not if he saved one a thousand times over. Can he now,
+Ethel darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" said Ethel, in a little surprise. "But stop, darling. You
+really must <i>not</i> say another word&mdash;no, not so much as a
+whisper&mdash;for we certainly <i>will</i> be heard; and don't notice
+what I do, or the priest either, for it's very, very important, dear.
+But you keep as still as a little mouse, and wait till we are all
+ready."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Ethel dear, I will; but it's awfully funny to see you
+here&mdash;and oh, <i>such</i> a funny figure as you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"H-s-s-s-h!"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie relapsed into silence now, and Ethel withdrew near to the
+door, where she stood and listened. All was still. Down stairs there was
+no light and no sound. In the hall above she could see nothing, and
+could not tell whether any guards were there or not.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury's room was at the back of the house, as has been said, and
+the door was just at the top of the stairs. The door where Ethel was
+standing was there too, and was close by the other, so that she could
+listen and hear the deep breathing of the sleeper. One or two indistinct
+sounds escaped him from time to
+<span class = "pagenum">105</span>
+time, and this was all that broke the deep stillness.</p>
+
+<p>She waited thus for nearly an hour, during which all was still, and
+Minnie said not a word. Then a shadowy figure appeared near her at
+Hawbury's door, and a hand touched her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Not a word was said.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel stole softly and noiselessly into Hawbury's room, where the
+priest was. She could see the two windows, and the priest indicated to
+her the position of the sleeper.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and cautiously she stole over toward him.</p>
+
+<p>She reached the place.</p>
+
+<p>She knelt by his side, and bent low over him. Her lips touched his
+forehead.</p>
+
+<p>The sleeper moved slightly, and murmured some words.</p>
+
+<p>"All fire," he murmured; "fire&mdash;and flame. It is a furnace
+before us. She must not die."</p>
+
+<p>Then he sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel's heart beat wildly. The words that he spoke told her where his
+thoughts were wandering. She bent lower; tears fell from her eyes and
+upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling," murmured the sleeper, "we will land here. I will cook
+the fish. How pale! Don't cry, dearest."</p>
+
+<p>The house was all still. Not a sound arose. Ethel still bent down and
+listened for more of these words which were so sweet to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel!" murmured the sleeper, "where are you? Lost! lost!"</p>
+
+<p>A heavy sigh escaped him, which found an echo in the heart of the
+listener. She touched his forehead gently with one hand, and
+whispered,</p>
+
+<p>"My lord!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury started.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"A friend," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>At this Hawbury became wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he whispered, in a trembling voice. "For God's
+sake&mdash;oh, for God's sake, speak again! tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Harry," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury recognized the voice at once.</p>
+
+<p>A slight cry escaped him, which was instantly suppressed, and then a
+torrent of whispered words followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my darling! my darling! my darling! What is this? How is this?
+Is it a dream? Oh, am I awake? Is it you? Oh, my darling! my darling!
+Oh, if my arms were but free!"</p>
+
+<p>Ethel bent over him, and passed her arm around him till she felt the
+cords that bound him. She had a sharp knife ready, and with this she cut
+the cords. Hawbury raised himself, without waiting for his feet to be
+freed, and caught Ethel in his freed arms in a silent embrace, and
+pressed her over and over again to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel with difficulty extricated herself.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no time to lose," said she. "I came to save you. Don't waste
+another moment;
+<span class = "pagenum">105b</span>
+it will be too late. Oh, do not! Oh, wait!" she added, as Hawbury made
+another effort to clasp her in his arms. "Oh, do what I say, for my
+sake!"</p>
+
+<p>She felt for his feet, and cut the rest of his bonds.</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to do?" asked Hawbury, clasping her close, as though he
+was afraid that he would lose her again.</p>
+
+<p>"Escape."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, come! I'll leap with you from the window."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't. The house and all around swarms with brigands. They watch
+us all closely."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fight my way through them."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll be killed, and I'll die."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll do whatever you say."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, then. You must escape alone."</p>
+
+<p>"What! and leave you? Never!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm safe. I'm disguised, and a priest is with me as my
+protector."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you be safe in such a place as this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am safe. Do not argue. There is no time to lose. The priest
+brought me here, and will take me away."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are others here. I can't leave them. Isn't Miss Fay a
+prisoner? and another lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but the priest and I will be able, I hope, to liberate them. We
+have a plan."</p>
+
+<p>"But can't I go with you and help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! it's impossible. You could not. We are going to take them
+away in disguise. We have a dress. You couldn't be disguised."</p>
+
+<p>"And <i>must</i> I go alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do it, then. Tell me what it is. But oh, my darling! how can I
+leave you, and in such a place as this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you I am not in the slightest danger."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall feel terribly anxious."</p>
+
+<p>"H-s-s-s-h! no more of this. Listen now."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>Ethel bent lower, and whispered in his ear, in even lower tones than
+ever, the plan which she had contrived.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXX" id = "chapXXX">
+CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+A DESPERATE PLAN.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Ethel</span>'s plan was hastily revealed.
+The position was exceedingly perilous; time was short, and this was the
+only way of escape.</p>
+
+<p>It was the priest who had concocted it, and he had thought of it as
+the only plan by which Hawbury's rescue could be effected. This
+ingenious Irishman had also formed another plan for the rescue of Minnie
+and her sister, which was to be attempted in due course of time.</p>
+
+<p>Now no ordinary mode of escape was possible for Hawbury. A strict
+watch was kept.
+<span class = "pagenum">106</span>
+The priest had noticed on his approach that guards were posted in
+different directions in such a way that no fugitive from the house could
+elude them. He had also seen that the guard inside the house was equally
+vigilant. To leap from the window and run for it would be certain death,
+for that was the very thing which the brigands anticipated. To make a
+sudden rush down the stairs was not possible, for at the door below
+there were guards; and there, most vigilant of all, was Girasole
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The decision of the Irish priest was correct, as has been proved in
+the case of Dacres, who, in spite of all his caution, was observed and
+captured. Of this the priest knew nothing, but judged from what he
+himself had seen on his approach to the house.</p>
+
+<p>The plan of the priest had been hastily communicated to Ethel, who
+shared his convictions and adopted his conclusions. She also had noticed
+the vigilance with which the guard had been kept up, and only the fact
+that a woman had been sent for and was expected with the priest had
+preserved her from discovery and its consequences. As it was, however,
+no notice was taken of her, and her pretended character was assumed to
+be her real one. Even Girasole had scarcely glanced at her. A village
+peasant was of no interest in his eyes. His only thought was of Minnie,
+and the woman that the priest brought was only used as a desperate
+effort to show a desire for her comfort. After he had decided to
+separate the sisters the woman was of more importance; but he had
+nothing to say to her, and thus Ethel had effected her entrance to
+Minnie's presence in safety, with the result that has been
+described.</p>
+
+<p>The priest had been turning over many projects in his brain, but at
+last one suggested itself which had originated in connection with the
+very nature of his errand.</p>
+
+<p>One part of that errand was that a man should be conveyed out of the
+house and carried away and left in a certain place. Now the man who was
+thus to be carried out was a dead man, and the certain place to which he
+was to be borne and where he was to be left was the grave; but these
+stern facts did not at all deter the Irish priest from trying to make
+use of this task that lay before him for the benefit of Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>Here was a problem. A prisoner anxious for escape, and a dead man
+awaiting burial; how were these two things to be exchanged so that the
+living man might pass out without going to the grave?</p>
+
+<p>The Irish priest puzzled and pondered and grew black in the face with
+his efforts to get to the solution of this problem, and at length
+succeeded&mdash;to his own satisfaction, at any rate. What is more, when
+he explained his plan to Ethel, she adopted it. She started, it is true;
+she shuddered, she recoiled from it at first, but finally she adopted
+it. Furthermore, she took it upon herself to persuade Hawbury to fall in
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>So much with regard to Hawbury. For
+<span class = "pagenum">106b</span>
+Minnie and her sister the indefatigable priest had already concocted a
+plan before leaving home. This was the very commonplace plan of a
+disguise. It was to be an old woman's apparel, and he trusted to the
+chapter of accidents to make the plan a success. He noticed with
+pleasure that some women were at the place, and thought that the
+prisoners might be confounded with them.</p>
+
+<p>When at length Ethel had explained the plan to Hawbury he made a few
+further objections, but finally declared himself ready to carry it
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The priest now began to put his project into execution. He had
+brought a screw-driver with him, and with this he took out the screws
+from the coffin one by one, as quietly as possible.</p>
+
+<p>Then the lid was lifted off, and Hawbury arose and helped the priest
+to transfer the corpse from the coffin to the straw. They then put the
+corpse on its side, with the face to the wall, and bound the hands
+behind it, and the feet also. The priest then took Hawbury's
+handkerchief and bound it around the head of the corpse. One or two rugs
+that lay near were thrown over the figure, so that it at length looked
+like a sleeping man.</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury now got into the coffin and lay down on his back at full
+length. The priest had brought some bits of wood with him, and these he
+put on the edge of the coffin in such a way that the lid would be kept
+off at a distance of about a quarter of an inch. Through this opening
+Hawbury could have all the air that was requisite for breathing.</p>
+
+<p>Then Ethel assisted the priest to lift the lid on.</p>
+
+<p>Thus far all had been quiet; but now a slight noise was heard below.
+Some men were moving. Ethel was distracted with anxiety, but the priest
+was as cool as a clock. He whispered to her to go back to the room where
+she belonged.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be able to finish it?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure an' I will&mdash;only don't you be afther stayin' here any
+longer."</p>
+
+<p>At this Ethel stole back to Minnie's room, and stood listening with a
+quick-beating heart.</p>
+
+<p>But the priest worked coolly and <ins class = "correction" title =
+"spelling unchanged">dextrously</ins>. He felt for the holes to which
+the screws belonged, and succeeded in putting in two of them.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a noise in the hall below.</p>
+
+<p>The priest began to put in the third screw.</p>
+
+<p>There were footsteps on the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>He screwed on.</p>
+
+<p>Nearer and nearer came the steps.</p>
+
+<p>The priest still kept to his task.</p>
+
+<p>At last a man entered the room. Ethel, who had heard all, was faint
+with anxiety. She was afraid that the priest had not finished his
+task.</p>
+
+<p>Her fears were groundless.</p>
+
+<p>Just as the foremost of the men entered the room the priest finished
+screwing, and stood by
+<span class = "pagenum">107</span>
+the coffin, having slipped the screw-driver into his pocket, as calm as
+though nothing had happened. Three of the screws were in, and that was
+as many as were needed.</p>
+
+<p>The men brought no light with them, and this circumstance was in the
+priest's favor.</p>
+
+<p>"You've been keeping me waiting long," said the priest, in
+Italian.</p>
+
+<p>"You may be glad it wasn't longer," said one of them, in a sullen
+tone. "Where is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said the priest.</p>
+
+<p>The men gathered around the coffin, and stooped down over it, one at
+each corner. Then they raised it up. Then they carried it out; and soon
+the heavy steps of the men were heard as they went down the stairs with
+their burden.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel still stood watching and listening.</p>
+
+<p>As she listened she heard some one ascending the stairs. New terror
+arose. Something was wrong, and all would be discovered. But the man who
+came up had no light, and that was one comfort. She could not see who it
+was.</p>
+
+<p>The man stopped for a moment in front of Minnie's door, and stood so
+close to her that she heard his breathing. It was quick and heavy, like
+the breathing of a very tired or a very excited man. Then he turned away
+and went to the door of the front-room opposite. Here he also stood for
+a few moments.</p>
+
+<p>All was still.</p>
+
+<p>Then he came back, and entered Hawbury's room.</p>
+
+<p>Now the crisis had come&mdash;the moment when all might be
+discovered. And if so, they all were lost. Ethel bent far forward and
+tried to peer through the gloom. She saw the dark figure of the
+new-comer pass by one of the windows, and by the outline she knew that
+it was Girasole. He passed on into the shadow, and toward the place
+where the straw was. She could not see him any more.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole stepped noiselessly and cautiously, as though fearful of
+waking the sleeper. At every step he paused and listened. The silence
+reassured him.</p>
+
+<p>He drew nearer and nearer, his left hand groping forward, and his
+right hand holding a pistol. His movements were perfectly noiseless.</p>
+
+<p>His own excitement was now intense, his heart throbbed fiercely and
+almost painfully as he approached his victim.</p>
+
+<p>At last he reached the spot, and knelt on one knee. He listened for a
+moment. There was no noise and no movement on the part of the figure
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>In the gloom he could see the outline of that figure plainly. It lay
+on its side, curled up in the most comfortable attitude which could be
+assumed, where arms and legs were bound.</p>
+
+<p>"How soundly he sleeps!" thought Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>He paused for a moment, and seemed to hesitate; but it was only for a
+moment. Then, summing up his resolution, he held his pistol close to the
+head of the figure, and fired.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">107b</span>
+
+<p class = "floatleft">
+<img src = "images/pic107.png" width = "215" height = "293"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"HE HELD HIS PISTOL CLOSE TO THE HEAD, AND FIRED."</p>
+
+<p>The loud report echoed through the house. A shriek came from Minnie's
+room, and a cry came from Mrs. Willoughby, who sprang toward the hall.
+But Girasole came out and intercepted her.</p>
+
+<p>"Eet ees notin," said he, in a tremulous voice. "Eet ees all ovair.
+Eet ees only a false alarm."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby retreated to her room, and Minnie said nothing. As
+for Ethel, the suspense with her had passed away as the report of the
+pistol came to her ears.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the coffin was carried out of the house, and the men,
+together with the priest, walked on toward a place further up the shore
+and on the outskirts of the woods. They reached a place where a grave
+was dug.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a pistol-shot sounded. The priest stopped, and the men
+stopped also. They did not understand it. The priest did not know the
+cause of the shot, but seeing the alarm of the men he endeavored to
+excite their fears. One of the men went back, and was cursed by Girasole
+for his pains. So he returned to the grave, cursing every body.</p>
+
+<p>The coffin was now lowered into the grave, and the priest urged the
+men to go away and let him finish the work; but they refused. The
+fellows seemed to have some affection for their dead comrade, and wished
+to show it by putting him underground, and doing the last honors. So the
+efforts of the Irish priest, though very well meant, and very urgent,
+and very persevering, did not meet with that success which he
+anticipated.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he stopped in the midst of the burial service, which he was
+prolonging to the utmost.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" he cried, in Italian.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">108</span>
+
+<p>"What?" they asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a gun! It's an alarm!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no gun, and no alarm," said they.</p>
+
+<p>All listened, but there was no repetition of the sound, and the
+priest went on.</p>
+
+<p>He had to finish it.</p>
+
+<p>He stood trembling and at his wit's end. Already the men began to
+throw in the earth.</p>
+
+<p>But now there came a real alarm.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXI" id = "chapXXXI">
+CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+DISCOVERED.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> report of the pistol had
+startled Minnie, and for a moment had greatly agitated her. The cry of
+Mrs. Willoughby elicited a response from her to the effect that all was
+right, and would, no doubt, have resulted in a conversation, had it not
+been prevented by Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie then relapsed into silence for a time, and Ethel took a seat
+by her side on the floor, for Minnie would not go near the straw, and
+then the two interlocked their arms in an affectionate embrace.</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel darling," whispered Minnie, "do you know I'm beginning to get
+awfully tired of this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so, poor darling!"</p>
+
+<p>"If I only had some place to sit on," said Minnie, still reverting to
+her original grievance, "it wouldn't be so very bad, you know. I could
+put up with not having a bed, or a sofa, or that sort of thing, you
+know; but really I must say not to have any kind of a seat seems to me
+to be very, very inconsiderate, to say the least of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor darling!" said Ethel again.</p>
+
+<p>"And now do you know, Ethel dear, I'm beginning to feel as though I
+should really like to run away from this place, if I thought that horrid
+man wouldn't see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Minnie darling," said Ethel, "that's the very thing I came for, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I know! And that dear, nice, good, kind, delightful priest!
+Oh, it was so nice of you to think of a priest, Ethel dear! I'm so
+grateful! But when is he coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Soon, I hope. But <i>do</i> try not to talk so."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm only whispering."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but your whispers are too loud, and I'm afraid they'll
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll try to keep still; but it's so <i>awfully</i> hard, you
+know, when one has <i>so</i> much to say, Ethel dear."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie now remained silent for about five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you say you were going to take me away?" she asked at
+length.</p>
+
+<p>"In disguise," said Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>what</i> disguise?"</p>
+
+<p>"In an old woman's dress&mdash;but hu-s-s-s-sh!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't <i>want</i> to be dressed up in an old woman's clothes;
+they make me <i>such</i> a figure. Why, I'd be a perfect fright."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">108b</span>
+
+<p>"Hu-s-s-s-sh! Dear, dear Minnie, you're talking too loud. They'll
+certainly hear us," said Ethel, in a low, frightened whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>do</i>&mdash;<i>do</i> promise you won't take me in an old
+woman's clothes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there&mdash;there it is again!" said Ethel. "Dear, dear Minnie,
+there's some one listening."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't see what harm there is in what I'm saying. I only
+wanted&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here there was a movement on the stairs just outside. Ethel had heard
+a sound of that kind two or three times, and it had given her alarm; but
+now Minnie herself heard it, and stopped speaking.</p>
+
+<p>And now a voice sounded from the stairs. Some Italian words were
+spoken, and seemed to be addressed to them. Of course they could make no
+reply. The words were repeated, with others, and the speaker seemed to
+be impatient. Suddenly it flashed across Ethel's mind that the speaker
+was Girasole, and that the words were addressed to her.</p>
+
+<p>Her impression was correct, and the speaker was Girasole. He had
+heard the sibilant sounds of the whispering, and, knowing that Minnie
+could not speak Italian, it had struck him as being a very singular
+thing that she should be whispering. Had her sister joined her? He
+thought he would go up and see. So he went up softly, and the whispering
+still went on. He therefore concluded that the "Italian woman" was not
+doing her duty, and that Mrs. Willoughby had joined her sister. This he
+would not allow; but as he had already been sufficiently harsh he did
+not wish to be more so, and therefore he called to the "Italian
+woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, you woman there! didn't I tell you not to let the ladies
+speak to one another?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course no answer was given, so Girasole grew more angry still, and
+cried out again, more imperatively:</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not answer me? Where are you? Is this the way you
+watch?"</p>
+
+<p>Still there was no answer. Ethel heard, and by this time knew what
+his suspicion was; but she could neither do nor say any thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Come down here at once, you hag!"</p>
+
+<p>But the "hag" did not come down, nor did she give any answer. The
+"hag" was trembling violently, and saw that all was lost. If the priest
+were only here! If she could only have gone and returned with him! What
+kept him?</p>
+
+<p>Girasole now came to the top of the stairs, and spoke to Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming mees, are you awake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Ees your sistaire wit you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. How can <i>she</i> be with me, I should like to know, when
+you've gone and put her in some horrid old room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! not wit you? Who are you whisperin' to, den?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"To my maid," said she.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">109</span>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic109.png" width = "346" height = "459"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"WHAT DIT YOU COME FOR?"&mdash;"FOR HER."</p>
+
+<p>"Does de maid spik Inglis?" asked Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I did not know eet. I mus have a look at de contadina who spiks
+Inglis. Come here, Italiana. You don't spik Italiano, I tink. Come
+here."</p>
+
+<p>Ethel rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole ran down, and came back after a few minutes with a lamp.
+Concealment was useless, and so Ethel did not cover her face with the
+hood. It had fallen off when she was sitting by Minnie, and hung loosely
+down her shoulders from the strings which were around her neck. Girasole
+recognized her at one glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said he; and then he stood thinking. As for Ethel, now that the
+suspense was over and the worst realized, her agitation ceased. She
+stood looking at him with perfect calm.</p>
+
+<p>"What dit you come for?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"For <i>her</i>," said Ethel, making a gesture toward Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"What could you do wit her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could see her and comfort her."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! an' you hope to make her escape. Ha,
+<span class = "pagenum">109b</span>
+ha! ver well. You mus not complain eef you haf to soffair de
+consequence. Aha! an' so de priest bring you here&mdash;ha?"</p>
+
+<p>Ethel was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you fear to say&mdash;you fear you harma de
+priest&mdash;ha?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie had thus far said nothing, but now she rose and looked at
+Girasole, and then at Ethel. Then she twined one arm around Ethel's
+waist, and turned her large, soft, childish eyes upon Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean," she said, "by <i>always</i> coming here and
+teasing, and worrying, and firing off pistols, and frightening people?
+I'm sure it was horrid enough for you to make me come to this wretched
+place, when you <i>know</i> I don't like it, without annoying me so. Why
+did you go and take away poor darling Kitty? And what do you mean now,
+pray, by coming here? I never was treated so unkindly in my life. I did
+not think that <i>any one</i> could be so very, very rude."</p>
+
+<p>"Charming mees," said Girasole, with a deprecating air, "it pains me
+to do any ting dat you do not like."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">110</span>
+
+<p>"It don't pain you," said Minnie&mdash;"it don't pain you <i>at
+all</i>. You're <i>always</i> teasing me. You <i>never</i> do what I
+want you to. You wouldn't even give me a chair."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas, carissima mia, to-morra you sall haf all! But dis place is so
+remote."</p>
+
+<p>"It is <i>not</i> remote," said Minnie. "It's close by roads and
+villages and things. Why, here is Ethel; she has been in a village where
+there are houses, and people, and as many chairs as she wants."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mees, eef you will but wait an' be patient&mdash;eef you will
+but wait an' see how tender I will be, an' how I lof you."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>don't</i> love me," said Minnie, "one bit. Is this
+love&mdash;not to give me a chair? I have been standing up till I am
+nearly ready to drop. And you have nothing better than some wretched
+promises. I don't care for to-morrow; I want to be comfortable to-day.
+You won't let me have a single thing. And now you come to tease me
+again, and frighten poor, dear, darling Ethel."</p>
+
+<p>"Eet ees because she deceif me&mdash;she come wit a plot&mdash;she
+steal in here. Eef she had wait, all would be well."</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't <i>dare</i> to touch her," said Minnie, vehemently. "You
+<i>shall</i> leave her here. She <i>shall</i> stay with me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am ver pain&mdash;oh, very; but oh, my
+angel&mdash;sweet&mdash;charming mees&mdash;eet ees dangaire to my lof.
+She plot to take you away. An' all my life is in you. Tink what I haf to
+do to gain you!"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie looked upon Girasole, with her large eyes dilated with
+excitement and resentment.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a horrid, horrid man," she exclaimed. "I <i>hate</i>
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my angel," pleaded Girasole, with deep agitation, "take back dat
+word."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry you ever saved my life," said Minnie, very calmly; "and
+I'm sorry I ever saw you. I <i>hate</i> you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you gif me torment. You do not mean dis. You say once you lof
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> did not say I loved <i>you</i>. It was <i>you</i> who said
+you loved <i>me</i>. <i>I</i> never liked <i>you</i>. And I don't really
+see how I <i>could</i> be engaged to you when I was engaged to another
+man before. He is the only one whom I recognize now. I don't know you at
+all. For I couldn't be bound to two men; could I, Ethel dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Ethel did not reply to this strange question.</p>
+
+<p>But upon Girasole its effect was very great. The manner of Minnie had
+been excessively perplexing to him all through this eventful day. If she
+had stormed and gone into a fine frenzy he could have borne it. It would
+have been natural. But she was perfectly unconcerned, and her only
+complaint was about trifles. Such trifles too! He felt ashamed to think
+that he could have subjected to such annoyances a woman whom he so
+dearly loved. And now he was once more puzzled. Minnie confronted him,
+looking at him fixedly, without
+<span class = "pagenum">110b</span>
+one particle of fear, with her large, earnest, innocent eyes fastened
+upon his&mdash;with the calm, cool gaze, of some high-minded child
+rebuking a younger child-companion. This was a proceeding which he was
+not prepared for. Besides, the child-innocence of her face and of her
+words actually daunted him. She seemed so fearless, because she was so
+innocent. She became a greater puzzle than ever. He had never seen much
+of her before, and this day's experience of her had actually daunted him
+and confounded him. And what was the worst to him of all her words was
+her calm and simple declaration, "I hate you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Minnie, thoughtfully, "it must be so; and dear Kitty
+would have said the same, only she was so awfully prejudiced. And I
+always thought he was so nice. Yes, I think I really must be engaged to
+him. But as for you," she said, turning full upon Girasole, "I hate
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>Girasole's face grew white with rage and jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" said he. "You lof <i>him</i>. Aha! An' you were engage to
+<i>him</i>. Aha!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I really think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Aha! Well, listen," cried Girasole, in a hoarse voice&mdash;"listen.
+He&mdash;he&mdash;de rival&mdash;de one you say you are engage&mdash;he
+is dead!"</p>
+
+<p>And with this he fastened upon Minnie his eyes that now gleamed with
+rage, and had an expression in them that might have made Ethel quiver
+with horror, but she did not, for she knew that Girasole was mistaken on
+that point.</p>
+
+<p>As for Minnie, she was not at all impressed by his fierce looks.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you really know what you're talking about," said she;
+"and you're very, very unpleasant. At any rate, you are altogether in
+the wrong when you say he is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead! He is dead! I swear it!" cried Girasole, whose manner was a
+little toned down by Minnie's coolness.</p>
+
+<p>"This is getting to be awfully funny, you know," said Minnie. "I
+really think we don't know what one another is talking about. I'm sure
+<i>I</i> don't, and I'm sure <i>he</i> don't, either; does he, Ethel
+darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"De Inglis milor," said Girasole. "He is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but I don't mean him at all," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;who?" gasped Girasole. "Who&mdash;who&mdash;who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the person I mean," said Minnie, very placidly, "is Rufus K.
+Gunn."</p>
+
+<p>Girasole uttered something like a howl, and retreated.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXII" id = "chapXXXII">
+CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+UNDER ARREST.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Girasole</span> retreated half-way down the
+stairs, and then he stopped for some time and thought. Then he came back
+and motioned to Ethel.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">111</span>
+
+<p>"You must come," he said, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, darling," said Ethel; "I had better go. It will only get you
+into fresh trouble. And I'll be back as soon as I can."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how I <i>hate</i> you!" said Minnie to Girasole. The latter said
+nothing. Ethel kissed Minnie, and descended the stairs after him.</p>
+
+<p>The Irish priest was standing over the grave bathed in a cold
+perspiration, his heart throbbing violently, every new thud of the
+earth, as it sounded violently against the coffin, sending a cold chill
+of horror through every nerve. Already enough earth had been thrown to
+cover three-quarters of the lid, and at the foot it was heaped up some
+distance. He tried to frame some excuse to get the men away. His brain
+whirled; his mind was confused; his thoughts refused to be
+collected.</p>
+
+<p>And now, in the midst of this, the attention of all was attracted by
+a loud stern voice, which sounded from some one near. The priest looked
+around. The men stopped shoveling, and turned to see the cause of the
+noise.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole was seen approaching, and was already near enough to be
+distinguished. Behind him followed a female form. At this sight the
+priest's mind misgave him.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole came up, and now the priest saw that the female was no other
+than Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is this priest?" asked Girasole, angrily, speaking, of course,
+in Italian.</p>
+
+<p>The priest advanced.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here," said he, with quiet dignity.</p>
+
+<p>At this change in the state of affairs the priest regained his
+presence of mind. The cessation in the work gave him relief, and enabled
+him to recall his scattered and confused thoughts. The men stood looking
+at the speakers, and listening, leaning on their shovels.</p>
+
+<p>"You were sent for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And a maid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You brought this lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You put her in disguise; you passed her off as an Italian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>The priest made no attempt at denial or equivocation. He knew that
+this would be useless. He waited for an opportunity to excuse himself,
+and to explain rather than to deny. But every answer of his only served
+to increase the fury of Girasole, who seemed determined to visit upon
+the head of the priest and Ethel the rage that he felt at his last
+interview with Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why," cried Girasole, "did you try to trick us? Don't you know
+the punishment we give to spies and traitors?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to do with spies and traitors."</p>
+
+<p>"You are one yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not."</p>
+
+<p>"You lie!"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">111b</span>
+
+<p>"I do not," said the priest, mildly. "Hear me, and let me tell my
+story, and you will see that I am not a traitor; or, if you don't wish
+to listen, then question me."</p>
+
+<p>"There is but one question. What made you bring this lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is simply answered," said the priest, with unfaltering
+calmness. "This lady and her friends arrived at my village and claimed
+hospitality. They were in distress. Some of their friends had been taken
+from them. A message came from you requesting my presence, and also a
+lady's-maid. There was no stipulation about the kind of one. This lady
+was the intimate friend of the captive, and entreated me to take her, so
+that she should see her friend, and comfort her, and share her
+captivity. I saw no harm in the wish. She proposed to become a
+lady's-maid. I saw no harm in that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did she disguise herself?"</p>
+
+<p>"So as to pass without trouble. She didn't want to be delayed. She
+wanted to see her friends as soon as possible. If you had questioned
+her, you would no doubt have let her pass."</p>
+
+<p>"I would, no doubt, have done nothing of the kind."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see any objection," said the priest.</p>
+
+<p>"Objection? She is a spy!"</p>
+
+<p>"A spy? Of what, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"She came to help her friend to escape."</p>
+
+<p>"To escape? How could she possibly help her to escape? Do you think
+it so easy to escape from this place?"</p>
+
+<p>Girasole was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think a young lady, who has never been out of the care of her
+friends before, could do much to assist a friend like herself in an
+escape?"</p>
+
+<p>"She might."</p>
+
+<p>"But how? This is not the street of a city. That house is watched, I
+think. There seem to be a few men in these woods, if I am not mistaken.
+Could this young lady help her friend to elude all these guards? Why,
+you know very well that she could not."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but then there is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Myself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do I know about your designs?"</p>
+
+<p>"What designs could <i>I</i> have? Do you think <i>I</i> could plan
+an escape?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? What! living here close beside you? <i>I</i> be a traitor?
+<i>I</i>, with my life at your mercy at all times&mdash;with my throat
+within such easy reach of any assassin who might choose to revenge my
+treachery?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are not assassins," said Girasole, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am not a traitor," rejoined the priest, mildly.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">112</span>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic112.png" width = "458" height = "463"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+UNDER GUARD.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole was silent, and stood in thought. The men at the grave had
+heard every word of this conversation. Once they laughed in scorn when
+the priest alluded to the absurdity of a young girl escaping. It was too
+ridiculous. Their sympathies were evidently with the priest. The charge
+against him could not be maintained.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Girasole at length, "I don't trust you. You may be
+traitors, after all. I will have you guarded, and if I find out any
+thing that looks like treason, by Heaven I will have your life, old man,
+even if you should be the Holy Father himself; and as to the
+lady&mdash;well, I will find plenty of ways," he added, with a sneer,
+"of inflicting on her a punishment commensurable with her crime. Here,
+you men, come along with me," he added, looking at the men by the
+grave.</p>
+
+<p>"But we want to finish poor Antonio's grave," remonstrated one of the
+men.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! he'll keep," said Girasole, with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't one of us stay?" asked the man.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not one; I want you all. If they are traitors, they are deep
+ones. They must be
+<span class = "pagenum">112b</span>
+guarded; and, mind you, if they escape, you shall suffer."</p>
+
+<p>With these words he led the way, and the priest and Ethel followed
+him. After these came the men, who had thrown down their shovels beside
+the grave. They all walked on in silence, following Girasole, who led
+the way to a place beyond the grave, and within view of one of the fires
+formerly alluded to. The place was about half-way between the grave and
+the fire. It was a little knoll bare of trees, and from it they could be
+seen by those at the nearest fire. Here Girasole paused, and, with some
+final words of warning to the guards, he turned and took his
+departure.</p>
+
+<p>The priest sat down upon the grass, and urged Ethel to do the same.
+She followed his advice, and sat down by his side. The guards sat around
+them so as to encircle them, and, mindful of Girasole's charge, they
+kept their faces turned toward them, so as to prevent even the very
+thought of flight. The priest addressed a few mild parental words to the
+men, who gave him very civil responses, but relaxed not a particle of
+their vigilance.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">113</span>
+
+<p>In the priest's mind there was still some anxiety, but much greater
+hope than he had dared to have for some time. He remembered that the
+coffin was not all covered over, and hoped that the inmate might be able
+to breathe. The fact that the work had been so unexpectedly interrupted
+was one which filled him with joy, and gave rise to the best hopes. The
+only offset to all this was his own captivity, but that was a very
+serious one. Besides, he knew that his life hung upon a thread. Before
+the next day Girasole would certainly discover all, and in that case he
+was a doomed man. But his nature was of a kind that could not borrow
+trouble, and so the fact of the immediate safety of Hawbury was of far
+more importance, and attracted far more of his thoughts, than his own
+certain but more remote danger.</p>
+
+<p>As for Ethel, she was now a prey to the deepest anxiety. All was
+discovered except the mere fact of Hawbury's removal, and how long that
+would remain concealed she could not know. Every moment she expected to
+hear the cry of those who might discover the exchange. And Hawbury, so
+long lost, so lately found&mdash;Hawbury, whom she had suspected of
+falsity so long and so long avoided, who now had proved himself so
+constant and so true&mdash;what was his fate? She had gazed with eyes of
+horror at that grave wherein he lay, and had seen the men shoveling in
+the earth as she came up. The recollection of this filled her with
+anguish. Had they buried him?&mdash;how deep was the earth that lay over
+him?&mdash;could there, indeed, be any hope?</p>
+
+<p>All depended on the priest. She hoped that he had prevented things
+from going too far. She had seen him watching the grave, and motionless.
+What did that inactivity mean? Was it a sign that Hawbury was safe, or
+was it merely because he could not do any thing?</p>
+
+<p>She was distracted by such fearful thoughts as these. Her heart once
+more throbbed with those painful pulsations which she had felt when
+approaching Hawbury. For some time she sat supporting her agony as best
+she could, and not daring to ask the priest, for fear their guards might
+suspect the truth, or perhaps understand her words.</p>
+
+<p>But at last she could bear it no longer.</p>
+
+<p>She touched the priest's arm as he sat beside her, without looking at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The priest returned the touch.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he safe?" she asked, in a tremulous voice, which was scarce
+audible from grief and anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"He is," said the priest.</p>
+
+<p>And then, looking at the man before him, he added immediately, in an
+unconcerned tone,</p>
+
+<p>"She wants to know what time it is, and I told her two o'clock.
+That's right, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"About right," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>Now that was a lie, but whether it was justifiable or not may be left
+to others to decide.</p>
+
+<p>As for Ethel, an immense load of anxiety was lifted off her mind, and
+she began to breathe more freely.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<span class = "pagenum">113b</span>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXIII" id = "chapXXXIII">
+CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE DEMON WIFE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">When</span> Dacres was overpowered by his
+assailants no mercy was shown him. His hands were bound tight behind
+him, and kicks and blows were liberally bestowed during the operation.
+Finally, he was pushed and dragged into the house, and up stairs to the
+room already mentioned. There he was still further secured by a tight
+rope around his ankles, after which he was left to his own
+meditations.</p>
+
+<p>Gloomy and bitter and fierce, indeed, were those meditations. His
+body was covered with bruises, and though no bones were broken, yet his
+pain was great. In addition to this the cords around his wrists and
+ankles were very tight, and his veins seemed swollen to bursting. It was
+difficult to get an easy position, and he could only lie on his side or
+on his face. These bodily pains only intensified the fierceness of his
+thoughts and made them turn more vindictively than ever upon the subject
+of his wife.</p>
+
+<p>She was the cause of all this, he thought. She had sacrificed every
+thing to her love for her accursed paramour. For this she had betrayed
+him, and her friends, and the innocent girl who was her companion. All
+the malignant feelings which had filled his soul through the day now
+swelled within him, till he was well-nigh mad. Most intolerable of all
+was his position now&mdash;the baffled enemy. He had come as the
+avenger, he had come as the destroyer; but he had been entrapped before
+he had struck his blow, and here he was now lying, defeated, degraded,
+and humiliated! No doubt he would be kept to afford sport to his
+enemy&mdash;perhaps even his wife might come to gloat over his
+sufferings, and feast her soul with the sight of his ruin. Over such
+thoughts as these he brooded, until at last he had wrought himself into
+something like frenzy, and with the pain that he felt, and the weariness
+that followed the fatigues of that day, these thoughts might finally
+have brought on madness, had they gone on without any thing to disturb
+them.</p>
+
+<p>But all these thoughts and ravings were destined to come to a full
+and sudden stop, and to be changed to others of a far different
+character. This change took place when Girasole, after visiting the
+ladies, came, with Mrs. Willoughby, to his room. As Dacres lay on the
+floor he heard the voice of the Italian, and the faint, mournful,
+pleading tones of a woman's voice, and, finally, he saw the flash of a
+light, and knew that the Italian was coming to his room, and perhaps
+this woman also. He held his breath in suspense. What did it mean? The
+tone of Girasole was not the tone of love. The light drew nearer, and
+the footsteps too&mdash;one a heavy footfall, the tread of a man; the
+other lighter, the step of a woman. He waited almost breathless.</p>
+
+<p>At last she appeared. There she was before him, and with the Italian;
+but oh, how changed from that demon woman of his fancies, who
+<span class = "pagenum">114</span>
+was to appear before him with his enemy and gloat over his sufferings!
+Was there a trace of a fiend in that beautiful and gentle face? Was
+there thought of joy or exultation over him in that noble and mournful
+lady, whose melancholy grace and tearful eyes now riveted his gaze?
+Where was the foul traitor who had done to death her husband and her
+friend? Where was the miscreant who had sacrificed all to a guilty
+passion? Not there; not with that face; not with those tears: to think
+that was impossible&mdash;it was unholy. He might rave when he did not
+see her, but now that his eyes beheld her those mad fancies were all
+dissipated.</p>
+
+<p>There was only one thing there&mdash;a woman full of loveliness and
+grace, in the very bloom of her life, overwhelmed with suffering which
+this Italian was inflicting on her. Why? Could he indulge the unholy
+thought that the Italian had cast her off, and supplied her place with
+the younger beauty? Away with such a thought! It was not jealousy of
+that younger lady that Dacres perceived; it was the cry of a loving,
+yearning heart that clung to that other one, from whom the Italian had
+violently severed her. There was no mistake as to the source of this
+sorrow. Nothing was left to the imagination. Her own words told all.</p>
+
+<p>Then the light was taken away, and the lady crouched upon the floor.
+Dacres could no longer see her amidst that gloom; but he could hear her;
+and every sob, and every sigh, and every moan went straight to his heart
+and thrilled through every fibre of his being. He lay there listening,
+and quivering thus as he listened with a very intensity of sympathy that
+shut out from his mind every other thought except that of the mourning,
+stricken one before him.</p>
+
+<p>Thus a long time passed, and the lady wept still, and other sounds
+arose, and there were footsteps in the house, and whisperings, and
+people passing to and fro; but to all these Dacres was deaf, and they
+caused no more impression on his senses than if they were not. His ears
+and his sense of hearing existed only for these sobs and these
+sighs.</p>
+
+<p>At last a pistol-shot roused him. The lady sprang up and called in
+despair. A cry came back, and the lady was about to venture to the other
+room, when she was driven back by the stern voice of Girasole. Then she
+stood for a moment, after which she knelt, and Dacres heard her voice in
+prayer. The prayer was not audible, but now and then words struck upon
+his ears which gave the key to her other words, and he knew that it was
+no prayer of remorse for guilt, but a cry for help in sore
+affliction.</p>
+
+<p>Had any thing more been needed to destroy the last vestige of
+Dacres's former suspicions it was furnished by the words which he now
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Heaven!" he thought; "can this woman be what I have thought her?
+But if not, what a villain am I! Yet now I must rather believe myself to
+be a villain than her!"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">114b</span>
+
+<p>In the midst of this prayer Girasole's voice sounded, and then
+Minnie's tones came clearly audible. The lady rose and listened, and a
+great sigh of relief escaped her. Then Girasole descended the stairs,
+and the lady again sank upon her knees.</p>
+
+<p>Thus far there seemed a spell upon Dacres; but this last incident and
+the clear child-voice of Minnie seemed to break it. He could no longer
+keep silence. His emotion was as intense as ever, but the bonds which
+had bound his lips seemed now to be loosened.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Arethusa!" he moaned.</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of his voice Mrs. Willoughby started, and rose to her
+feet. So great had been her anxiety and agitation that for some time she
+had not thought of another being in the room, and there had been no
+sound from him to suggest his existence. But now his voice startled her.
+She gave no answer, however.</p>
+
+<p>"Arethusa!" repeated Dacres, gently and longingly and tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's dreaming."</p>
+
+<p>"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa!" said Dacres once more. "Do not keep away.
+Come to me. I am calm now."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby. "He doesn't seem to be
+asleep. He's talking to me. I really think he is."</p>
+
+<p>"Arethusa," said Dacres again, "will you answer me one question?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby hesitated for a moment, but now perceived that Dacres
+was really speaking to her. "He's in delirium," she thought. "Poor
+fellow, I must humor him, I suppose. But what a funny name to give
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>So, after a little preparatory cough, Mrs. Willoughby said, in a low
+voice,</p>
+
+<p>"What question?"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres was silent for a few moments. He was overcome by his emotions.
+He wished to ask her one question&mdash;the question of all questions in
+his mind. Already her acts had answered it sufficiently; but he longed
+to have the answer in her own words. Yet he hesitated to ask it. It was
+dishonor to her to ask it. And thus, between longing and hesitation, he
+delayed so long that Mrs. Willoughby imagined that he had fallen back
+into his dreams or into his delirium, and would say no more.</p>
+
+<p>But at last Dacres staked every thing on the issue, and asked it:</p>
+
+<p>"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa! do you&mdash;do you love&mdash;the&mdash;the
+Italian?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Italian!" said Mrs. Willoughby&mdash;"love the Italian! me!" and
+then in a moment she thought that this was his delirium, and she must
+humor it. "Poor fellow!" she sighed again; "how he fought them! and no
+doubt he has had fearful blows on his head."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you? do you? Oh, answer, I implore you!" cried Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" said Mrs. Willoughby, solemnly. "I hate him as I never hated
+man before." She
+<span class = "pagenum">115</span>
+spoke her mind this time, although she thought the other was
+delirious.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh of relief and of happiness came from Dacres, so deep that it
+was almost a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"And oh," he continued, "tell me this&mdash;have you ever loved him
+at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"I always disliked him excessively," said Mrs. Willoughby, in the
+same low and solemn tone. "I saw something bad&mdash;altogether
+bad&mdash;in his face."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, may Heaven forever bless you for that word!" exclaimed Dacres,
+with such a depth of fervor that Mrs. Willoughby was surprised. She now
+believed that he was intermingling dreams with realities, and tried to
+lead him to sense by reminding him of the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"It was Minnie, you know, that he was fond of."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Minnie Fay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; oh yes. I never saw any thing of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Heavens!" cried Dacres; "oh, Heavens, what a fool, beast,
+villain, and scoundrel I have been! Oh, how I have misjudged <i>you</i>!
+And can <i>you</i> forgive me? Oh, can you? But no&mdash;you can
+not."</p>
+
+<p>At this appeal Mrs. Willoughby was startled, and did not know what to
+say or to do. How much of this was delirium and how much real she could
+not tell. One thing seemed evident to her, and that was that, whether
+delirious or not, he took her for another person. But she was so full of
+pity for him, and so very tender-hearted, that her only idea was to
+"humor" him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he cried again, "can this all be true, and have all my
+suspicions been as mad as these last? And <i>you</i>&mdash;how
+<i>you</i> have changed! How beautiful you are! What tenderness there is
+in your glance&mdash;what a pure and gentle and touching grace there is
+in your expression! I swear to you, by Heaven! I have stood gazing at
+you in places where you have not seen me, and thought I saw heaven in
+your face, and worshiped you in my inmost soul. This is the reason why I
+have followed you. From the time I saw you when you came into the room
+at Naples till this night I could not get rid of your image. I fought
+against the feeling, but I can not overcome it. Never, never were you
+half so dear as you are now!"</p>
+
+<p>Now, of course, that was all very well, considered as the language of
+an estranged husband seeking for reconciliation with an estranged wife;
+but when one regards it simply as the language of a passionate lover
+directed to a young and exceedingly pretty widow, one will perceive that
+it was <i>not</i> all very well, and that under ordinary circumstances
+it might create a sensation.</p>
+
+<p>Upon Mrs. Willoughby the sensation was simply tremendous. She had
+begun by "humoring" the delirious man; but now she found his delirium
+taking a course which was excessively embarrassing. The worst of it was,
+there was truth enough in his language to increase
+<span class = "pagenum">115b</span>
+the embarrassment. She remembered at once how the mournful face of this
+man had appeared before her in different places. Her thoughts instantly
+reverted to that evening on the balcony when his pale face appeared
+behind the fountain. There was truth in his words; and her heart beat
+with extraordinary agitation at the thought. Yet at the same time there
+was some mistake about it all; and he was clearly delirious.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Heavens!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Is there a
+possibility of it? Oh, can you forgive me? Can you&mdash;can you?"</p>
+
+<p>He was clearly delirious now. Her heart was full of pity for him. He
+was suffering too. He was bound fast. Could she not release him? It was
+terrible for this man to lie there bound thus. And perhaps he had fallen
+into the hands of these ruffians while trying to save <i>her</i> and her
+sister. She must free him.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to be loosed?" she asked, coming nearer. "Shall I cut
+your bonds?"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke in a low whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, tell me first, I implore you! Can you forgive me?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in such a piteous tone that her heart was touched.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive you?" she said, in a voice full of sympathy and pity. "There
+is nothing for <i>me</i> to forgive."</p>
+
+<p>"Now may Heaven forever bless you for that sweet and gentle word!"
+said Dacres, who altogether misinterpreted her words, and the emphasis
+she placed on them; and in his voice there was such peace, and such a
+gentle, exultant happiness, that Mrs. Willoughby again felt touched.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow!" she thought; "how he <i>must</i> have suffered!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you fastened?" she whispered, as she bent over him. Dacres
+felt her breath upon his cheek; the hem of her garment touched his
+sleeve, and a thrill passed through him. He felt as though he would like
+to be forever thus, with <i>her</i> bending over him.</p>
+
+<p>"My hands are fastened behind me," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a knife," said Mrs. Willoughby. She did not stop to think of
+danger. It was chiefly pity that incited her to this. She could not bear
+to see him lying thus in pain, which he had perhaps, as she supposed,
+encountered for her. She was impulsive, and though she thought of his
+assistance toward the escape of Minnie and herself, yet pity and
+compassion were her chief inspiring motives.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby had told Girasole that she had no knife; but this was
+not quite true, for she now produced one, and cut the cords that bound
+his wrists. Again a thrill flashed through him at the touch of her
+little fingers; she then cut the cords that bound his ankles.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres sat up. His ankles and wrists were badly swollen, but he was
+no longer conscious of pain. There was rapture in his soul, and of that
+alone was he conscious.</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful!" she whispered, warningly;
+<span class = "pagenum">116</span>
+"guards are all around, and listeners. Be careful! If you can think of a
+way of escape, do so."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres rubbed his hand over his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I dreaming?" said he; "or is it all true? A while ago I was
+suffering from some hideous vision; yet now you say you forgive me!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby saw in this a sign of returning delirium. "But the
+poor fellow must be humored, I suppose," she thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there is nothing for <i>me</i> to forgive," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"But if there were any thing, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Freely?" he cried, with a strong emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, freely."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, could you answer me one more question? Oh, could you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; not now&mdash;not now, I entreat you," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+in nervous dread. She was afraid that his delirium would bring him upon
+delicate ground, and she tried to hold him back.</p>
+
+<p>"But I must ask you," said Dacres, trembling fearfully&mdash;"I
+must&mdash;now or never. Tell me my doom; I have suffered so much. Oh,
+Heavens! Answer me. Can you? Can you feel toward me as you once
+did?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's utterly mad," thought Mrs. Willoughby; "but he'll get worse if
+I don't soothe him. Poor fellow! I ought to answer him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my darling!" murmured Dacres, in rapture inexpressible; "my
+darling!" he repeated; and grasping Mrs. Willoughby's hand, he pressed
+it to his lips. "And you will love me again&mdash;you will love me?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby paused. The man was mad, but the ground was so
+dangerous! Yes, she must humor him. She felt his hot kisses on her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>will</i>&mdash;you <i>will</i> love me, will you not?" he
+repeated. "Oh, answer me! Answer me, or I shall die!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," whispered Mrs. Willoughby, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>As she said this a cold chill passed through her. But it was too
+late. Dacres's arms were around her. He had drawn her to him, and
+pressed her against his breast, and she felt hot tears upon her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Arethusa!" cried Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mrs. Willoughby, as soon as she could extricate herself,
+"there's a mistake, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"A mistake, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, what <i>shall</i> I do?" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's
+beginning again. I must stop this, and bring him to his senses. How
+terrible it is to humor a delirious man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Arethusa!" sighed Dacres once more.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby arose.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">116b</span>
+<p>"I'm not Arethusa at all," said she; "that isn't my name. If you
+<i>can</i> shake off your delirium, I wish you would. I really do."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" cried Dacres, in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not Arethusa at all; that isn't my name."</p>
+
+<p>"Not your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; my name's Kitty."</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty!" cried Dacres, starting to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant the report of a gun burst upon their ears, followed
+by another and another; then there were wild calls and loud shouts.
+Other guns were heard.</p>
+
+<p>Yet amidst all this wild alarm there was nothing which had so
+tremendous an effect upon Dacres as this last remark of Mrs.
+Willoughby's.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic116.png" width = "216" height = "335"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"THE PRIEST FLUNG HIMSELF FORWARD."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXIV" id = "chapXXXIV">
+CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE CRISIS OF LIFE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">When</span> the Irish priest conjectured
+that it was about two o'clock in the morning he was not very far astray
+in his calculation. The short remarks that were exchanged between him
+and Ethel, and afterward between him and the men, were followed by a
+profound silence. Ethel sat by the side of the priest, with her head
+bent forward and her eyes closed as though she were asleep; yet sleep
+was farther from her than ever it had been, and the thrilling events of
+the night afforded sufficient material to keep her awake for many a long
+hour yet to come. Her mind was now filled with a thousand conflicting
+and most exciting fancies, in the midst of which she might again have
+sunk into despair had she not been sustained by the assurance of the
+priest.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting near Ethel, the priest for some time
+<span class = "pagenum">117</span>
+looked fixedly ahead of him as though he were contemplating the solemn
+midnight scene, or meditating upon the beauties of nature. In truth, the
+scene around was one which was deserving even of the close attention
+which the priest appeared to give. Immediately before him lay the lake,
+its shore not far beneath, and almost at their feet. Around it arose the
+wooded hills, whose dark forms, darker from the gloom of night, threw
+profound shadows over the opposite shores. Near by the shore extended on
+either side. On the right there were fires, now burning low, yet
+occasionally sending forth flashes; on the left, and at some distance,
+might be seen the dusky outline of the old stone house. Behind them was
+the forest, vast, gloomy, clothed in impenetrable shade, in which lay
+their only hope of safety, yet where even now there lurked the watchful
+guards of the brigands. It was close behind them. Once in its shelter,
+and they might gain freedom; yet between them and it was an impassable
+barrier of enemies, and there also lay a still more impassable barrier
+in the grave where Hawbury lay. To fly, even if they could fly, would be
+to give him up to death; yet to remain, as they must remain, would be to
+doom him to death none the less, and themselves too.</p>
+
+<p>Seated there, with his eyes directed toward the water, the priest saw
+nothing of the scene before him; his eyes were fixed on vacancy; his
+thoughts were endeavoring to grapple with the situation and master it.
+Yet so complicated was that situation, and so perplexing the dilemma in
+which he found himself&mdash;a dilemma where death perched upon either
+horn&mdash;that the good priest found his faculties becoming gradually
+more and more unable to deal with the difficulty, and he felt himself
+once more sinking down deeper and deeper into that abyss of despair from
+which he had but recently extricated himself.</p>
+
+<p>And still the time passed, and the precious moments, laden with the
+fate not only of Hawbury, but of all the others&mdash;the moments of the
+night during which alone any escape was to be thought of&mdash;moved all
+too swiftly away.</p>
+
+<p>Now in this hour of perplexity the good priest bethought him of a
+friend whose fidelity had been proved through the varied events of a
+life&mdash;a friend which, in his life of celibacy, had found in his
+heart something of that place which a fond and faithful wife may hold in
+the heart of a more fortunate man. It was a little friend, a fragrant
+friend, a tawny and somewhat grimy friend; it was in the pocket of his
+coat; it was of clay; in fact, it was nothing else than a dudeen.</p>
+
+<p>Where in the world had the good priest who lived in this remote
+corner of Italy got that emblem of his green native isle? Perhaps he had
+brought it with him in the band of his hat when he first turned his back
+upon his country, or perhaps he had obtained it from the same quarter
+which had supplied him with that very
+<span class = "pagenum">117b</span>
+black plug of tobacco which he brought forth shortly afterward. The one
+was the complement of the other, and each was handled with equal love
+and care. Soon the occupation of cutting up the tobacco and rubbing it
+gave a temporary distraction to his thoughts, which distraction was
+prolonged by the further operation of pressing the tobacco into the bowl
+of the dudeen.</p>
+
+<p>Here the priest paused and cast a longing look toward the fire, which
+was not far away.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you have any objection to let me go and get a coal to light
+the pipe?" said he to one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>The man had an objection, and a very strong one.</p>
+
+<p>"Would one of you be kind enough to go and get me a brand or a hot
+coal?"</p>
+
+<p>This led to an earnest debate, and finally one of the men thought
+that he might venture. Before doing so, however, a solemn promise was
+extorted from the priest that he would not try to escape during his
+absence. This the priest gave.</p>
+
+<p>"Escape!" he said&mdash;"it's a smoke I want. Besides, how can I
+escape with three of ye watching me? And then, what would I want to
+escape for? I'm safe enough here."</p>
+
+<p>The man now went off, and returned in a short time with a brand. The
+priest gave him his blessing, and received the brand with a quiet
+exultation that was pleasing to behold.</p>
+
+<p>"Matches," said he, "ruin the smoke. They give it a sulphur taste.
+There's nothing like a hot coal."</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, he lighted his pipe. This operation was accomplished
+with a series of those short, quick, hard, percussive puffs with which
+the Irish race in every clime on this terrestrial ball perform the
+solemn rite.</p>
+
+<p>And now the thoughts of the priest became more calm and regular and
+manageable. His confusion departed, and gradually, as the smoke ascended
+to the skies, there was diffused over his soul a certain soothing and
+all-pervading calm.</p>
+
+<p>He now began to face the full difficulty of his position. He saw that
+escape was impossible and death inevitable. He made up his mind to die.
+The discovery would surely be made in the morning that Hawbury had been
+substituted for the robber; he would be found and punished, and the
+priest would be involved in his fate. His only care now was for Ethel;
+and he turned his thoughts toward the formation of some plan by which he
+might obtain mercy for her.</p>
+
+<p>He was in the midst of these thoughts&mdash;for himself resigned, for
+Ethel anxious&mdash;and turning over in his mind all the various modes
+by which the emotion of pity or mercy might be roused in a merciless and
+pitiless nature; he was thinking of an appeal to the brigands
+themselves, and had already decided that in this there lay his best hope
+of success&mdash;when all of a sudden these thoughts were rudely
+interrupted and
+<span class = "pagenum">118</span>
+dissipated and scattered to the winds by a most startling cry.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel started to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh Heavens!" she cried, "what was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Down! down!" cried the men, wrathfully; but before Ethel could obey
+the sound was repeated, and the men themselves were arrested by it.</p>
+
+<p>The sound that thus interrupted the meditations of the priest was the
+explosion of a rifle. As Ethel started up another followed. This excited
+the men themselves, who now listened intently to learn the cause.</p>
+
+<p>They did not have to wait long.</p>
+
+<p>Another rifle explosion followed, which was succeeded by a loud, long
+shriek.</p>
+
+<p>"An attack!" cried one of the men, with a deep curse. They listened
+still, yet did not move away from the place, for the duty to which they
+had been assigned was still prominent in their minds. The priest had
+already risen to his feet, still smoking his pipe, as though in this new
+turn of affairs its assistance might be more than ever needed to enable
+him to preserve his presence of mind, and keep his soul serene in the
+midst of confusion.</p>
+
+<p>And now they saw all around them the signs of agitation. Figures in
+swift motion flitted to and fro amidst the shade, and others darted past
+the smouldering fires. In the midst of this another shot sounded, and
+another, and still another. At the third there was a wild yell of rage
+and pain, followed by the shrill cry of a woman's voice. The fact was
+evident that some one of the brigands had fallen, and the women were
+lamenting.</p>
+
+<p>The confusion grew greater. Loud cries arose; calls of encouragement,
+of entreaty, of command, and of defiance. Over by the old house there
+was the uproar of rushing men, and in the midst of it a loud, stern
+voice of command. The voices and the rushing footsteps moved from the
+house to the woods. Then all was still for a time.</p>
+
+<p>It was but for a short time, however. Then came shot after shot in
+rapid succession. The flashes could be seen among the trees. All around
+them there seemed to be a struggle going on. There was some unseen
+assailant striking terrific blows from the impenetrable shadow of the
+woods. The brigands were firing back, but they fired only into thick
+darkness. Shrieks and yells of pain arose from time to time, the
+direction of which showed that the brigands were suffering. Among the
+assailants there was neither voice nor cry. But, in spite of their
+losses and the disadvantage under which they labored, the brigands
+fought well, and resisted stubbornly. From time to time a loud, stern
+voice arose, whose commands resounded far and wide, and sustained the
+courage of the men and directed their movements.</p>
+
+<p>The men who guarded the priest and Ethel were growing more and more
+excited every
+<span class = "pagenum">118b</span>
+moment, and were impatient at their enforced inaction.</p>
+
+<p>"They must be soldiers," said one.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said another.</p>
+
+<p>"They fight well."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay; better than the last time."</p>
+
+<p>"How did they learn to fight so well under cover?"</p>
+
+<p>"They've improved. The last time we met them we shot them like sheep,
+and drove them back in five minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"They've got a leader who understands fighting in the woods. He keeps
+them under cover."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Diavolo! who knows? They get new captains every day."</p>
+
+<p>"Was there not a famous American Indian&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"True. I heard of him. An Indian warrior from the American forests.
+<ins class = "correction" title = "spelling unchanged">Guiseppe</ins>
+saw him when he was at Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!&mdash;you all saw him."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the road."</p>
+
+<p>"We didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"You did. He was the Zouave who fled to the woods first."</p>
+
+<p>"He?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Diavolo!"</p>
+
+<p>These words were exchanged between them as they looked at the
+fighting. But suddenly there came rapid flashes and rolling volleys
+beyond the fires that lay before them, and the movement of the flashes
+showed that a rush had been made toward the lake. Wild yells arose, then
+fierce returning fires, and these showed that the brigands were being
+driven back.</p>
+
+<p>The guards could endure this no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"They are beating us," cried one of the men, with a curse. "We must
+go and fight."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do with these prisoners?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tie them and leave them."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a rope?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. There is one by the grave."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's take the prisoners there and bind them."</p>
+
+<p>This proposition was accepted; and, seizing the priest and Ethel, the
+four men hurried them back to the grave. The square hole lay there just
+beside them, with the earth by its side. Ethel tried to see into it, but
+was not near enough to do so. One of the men found the rope, and began
+in great haste to bind the arms of the priest behind him. Another began
+to bind Ethel in the same way.</p>
+
+<p>But now there came loud cries, and the rush of men near them. A loud,
+stern voice was encouraging the men.</p>
+
+<p>"On! on!" he cried. "Follow me! We'll drive them back!"</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, a man hurried on, followed by a score of brigands.</p>
+
+<p>It was Girasole.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">119</span>
+
+<p>He had been guarding the woods at this side when he had seen the rush
+that had been made farther up. He had seen his men driven in, and was
+now hurrying up to the place to retrieve the battle. As he was running
+on he came up to the party at the grave.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"The prisoners&mdash;we were securing them."</p>
+
+<p>It was now lighter than it had been, and dawn was not far off. The
+features of Girasole were plainly distinguishable. They were convulsed
+with the most furious passion, which was not caused so much by the rage
+of conflict as by the sight of the prisoners. He had suspected treachery
+on their part, and had spared them for a time only so as to see whether
+his suspicions were true or not. But now this sudden assault by night,
+conducted so skillfully, and by such a powerful force, pointed clearly
+to treachery, as he saw it, and the ones who to him seemed most
+prominent in guilt were the priest and Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>His suspicions were quite reasonable under the circumstances. Here
+was a priest whom he regarded as his natural enemy. These brigands
+identified themselves with republicans and Garibaldians whenever it
+suited their purposes to do so, and consequently, as such, they were
+under the condemnation of the Pope; and any priest might think he was
+doing the Pope good service by betraying those who were his enemies. As
+to this priest, every thing was against him. He lived close by; every
+step of the country was no doubt familiar to him; he had come to the
+camp under very suspicious circumstances, bringing with him a stranger
+in disguise. He had given plausible answers to the cross-questioning of
+Girasole; but those were empty words, which went for nothing in the
+presence of the living facts that now stood before him in the presence
+of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts had all occurred to Girasole, and the sight of the two
+prisoners kindled his rage to madness. It was the deadliest purpose of
+vengeance that gleamed in his eyes as he looked upon them, and they knew
+it. He gave one glance, and then turned to his men.</p>
+
+<p>"On! on!" he cried; "I will join you in an instant; and you," he said
+to the guards, "wait a moment."</p>
+
+<p>The brigands rushed on with shouts to assist their comrades in the
+fight, while the other four waited.</p>
+
+<p>All this time the fight had not ceased. The air was filled with the
+reports of rifle-shots, the shouts of men, the yells of the wounded. The
+flashes seemed to be gradually drawing nearer, as though the assailants
+were still driving the brigands. But their progress was slow, for the
+fighting was carried on among the trees, and the brigands resisted
+stubbornly, retreating from cover to cover, and stopping every moment to
+make a fresh stand. But the assailants had gained much ground, and were
+already
+<span class = "pagenum">119b</span>
+close by the borders of the lake, and advancing along toward the old
+stone house.</p>
+
+<p>The robbers had not succeeded in binding their prisoners. The priest
+and Ethel both stood where they had encountered Girasole, and the ropes
+fell from the robbers' hands at the new interruption. The grave with its
+mound was only a few feet away.</p>
+
+<p>Girasole had a pistol in his left hand and a sword in his right. He
+sheathed his sword and drew another pistol, keeping his eyes fixed
+steadily all the while upon his victims.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't bind these prisoners," said Girasole, grimly; "I know a
+better way to secure them."</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of God," cried the priest, "I implore you not to shed
+innocent blood!"</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" said Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"This lady is innocent; you will at least spare her!"</p>
+
+<p>"She shall die first!" said Girasole, in a fury, and reached out his
+hand to grasp Ethel. The priest flung himself forward between the two.
+Girasole dashed him aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Give us time to pray, for God's sake&mdash;one moment to pray!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a moment!" cried Girasole, grasping at Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel gave a loud shriek and started away in horror. Girasole sprang
+after her. The four men turned to seize her. With a wild and frantic
+energy, inspired by the deadly terror that was in her heart, she bounded
+away toward the grave.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXV" id = "chapXXXV">
+CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+BURIED ALIVE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">Hawbury</span> last vanished from the scene
+to a place which is but seldom resorted to by a living man. Once inside
+of his terrible retreat he became a prey to feelings of the most varied
+and harrowing character, in the midst of which there was a suspense,
+twofold, agonizing, and intolerable. First of all, his suspense was for
+Ethel, and then for himself. In that narrow and restricted retreat his
+senses soon became sharpened to an unusual degree of acuteness. Every
+touch against it communicated itself to his frame, as though the wood of
+his inclosure had become part of himself; and every sound intensified
+itself to an extraordinary degree of distinctness, as though the
+temporary loss of vision had been compensated for by an exaggeration of
+the sense of hearing. This was particularly the case as the priest drove
+in the screws. He heard the shuffle on the stairs, the whisper to Ethel,
+her retreat, and the ascending footsteps; while at the same time he was
+aware of the unalterable coolness of the priest, who kept calmly at his
+work until the very last moment. The screws seemed to enter his own
+frame, and the slight noise which was made, inaudible as it was to
+others, to him seemed loud enough to rouse all in the house.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">120</span>
+
+<p>Then he felt himself raised and carried down stairs. Fortunately he
+had got in with his feet toward the door, and as that end was carried
+out first, his descent of the stairs was not attended with the
+inconvenience which he might have felt had it been taken down in an
+opposite direction.</p>
+
+<p>One fact gave him very great relief, for he had feared that his
+breathing would be difficult. Thanks, however, to the precautions of the
+priest, he felt no difficulty at all in that respect. The little bits of
+wood which prevented the lid from resting close to the coffin formed
+apertures which freely admitted all the air that was necessary.</p>
+
+<p>He was borne on thus from the house toward the grave, and heard the
+voice of the priest from time to time, and rightly supposed that the
+remarks of the priest were addressed not so much to the brigands as to
+himself, so as to let him know that he was not deserted. The journey to
+the grave was accomplished without any inconvenience, and the coffin was
+at length put upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was lowered into the grave.</p>
+
+<p>There was something in this which was so horrible to Hawbury that an
+involuntary shudder passed through every nerve, and all the terror of
+the grave and the bitterness of death in that one moment seemed to
+descend upon him. He had not thought of this, and consequently was not
+prepared for it. He had expected that he would be put down somewhere on
+the ground, and that the priest would be able to get rid of the men, and
+effect his liberation before it had gone so far.</p>
+
+<p>It required an effort to prevent himself from crying out; and longer
+efforts were needed and more time before he could regain any portion of
+his self-control. He now heard the priest performing the burial rites;
+these seemed to him to be protracted to an amazing length; and so,
+indeed, they were; but to the inmate of that grave the time seemed
+longer far than it did to those who were outside. A thousand thoughts
+swept through his mind, and a thousand fears swelled within his heart.
+At last the suspicion came to him that the priest himself was unable to
+do any better, and this suspicion was confirmed as he detected the
+efforts which he made to get the men to leave the grave. This was
+particularly evident when he pretended to hear an alarm, by which he
+hoped to get rid of the brigands. It failed, however, and with this
+failure the hopes of Hawbury sank lower than ever.</p>
+
+<p>But the climax of his horror was attained as the first clod fell upon
+his narrow abode. It seemed like a death-blow. He felt it as if it had
+struck himself, and for a moment it was as though he had been stunned.
+The dull, heavy sound which those heard who stood above, to his ears
+became transformed and enlarged, and extended to something like a
+thunder-peal, with long reverberations through his now fevered and
+distempered brain. Other
+<span class = "pagenum">120b</span>
+clods fell, and still others, and the work went on till his brain
+reeled, and under the mighty emotions of the hour his reason began to
+give way. Then all his fortitude and courage sank. All thought left him
+save the consciousness of the one horror that had now fixed itself upon
+his soul. It was intolerable. In another moment his despair would have
+overmastered him, and under its impulse he would have burst through all
+restraint, and turned all his energies toward forcing himself from his
+awful prison house.</p>
+
+<p>He turned himself over. He gathered himself up as well as he could.
+Already he was bracing himself for a mighty effort to burst up the lid,
+when suddenly the voice of Girasole struck upon his ear, and a wild fear
+for Ethel came to his heart, and the anguish of that fear checked at
+once all further thought of himself.</p>
+
+<p>He lay still and listened. He did this the more patiently as the men
+also stopped from their work, and as the hideous earth-clods no longer
+fell down. He listened. From the conversation he gathered pretty
+accurately the state of affairs. He knew that Ethel was there; that she
+had been discovered and dragged forth; that she was in danger. He
+listened in the anguish of a new suspense. He heard the words of the
+priest, his calm denial of treachery, his quiet appeal to Girasole's
+good sense. Then he heard the decision of Girasole, and the party walked
+away with their prisoners, and he was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>Alone!</p>
+
+<p>At any other time it would have been a terrible thing thus to be left
+alone in such a place, but now to him who was thus imprisoned it
+afforded a great relief. The work of burial, with all its hideous
+accompaniments, was stayed. He could collect his senses and make up his
+mind as to what he should do.</p>
+
+<p>Now, first of all, he determined to gain more air if possible. The
+earth that had fallen had covered up many of the chinks, so that his
+breathing had become sensibly more difficult. His confinement, with this
+oppression of his breathing, was intolerable. He therefore braced
+himself once more to make an effort. The coffin was large and rudely
+constructed, being merely an oblong box. He had more play to his limbs
+than he could have had in one of a more regular construction, and thus
+he was able to bring a great effort to bear upon the lid. He pressed.
+The screws gave way. He lifted it up to some distance. He drew in a long
+draught of fresh air, and felt in that one draught that he received new
+life and strength and hope.</p>
+
+<p>He now lay still and thought about what he should do next. If it had
+only been himself, he would, of course, have escaped in that first
+instant, and fled to the woods. But the thought of Ethel detained
+him.</p>
+
+<p>What was her position; and what could he do to save her? This was his
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that she, together with the priest,
+<span class = "pagenum">121</span>
+was in the hands of four of the brigands, who were commanded to keep
+their prisoners safe at the peril of their lives. Where they were he did
+not know, nor could he tell whether she was near or at a distance.
+Girasole had led them away.</p>
+
+<p class = "illustration">
+<img src = "images/pic121.png" width = "456" height = "460"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption wide">
+"IN AN INSTANT THE OCCUPANT OF THE GRAVE SPRANG FORTH."</p>
+
+<p>He determined to look out and watch. He perceived that this grave, in
+the heart of the brigands' camp, afforded the very safest place in which
+he could be for the purpose of watching. Girasole's words had indicated
+that the work of burial would not be resumed that night, and if any
+passers-by should come they would avoid such a place as this. Here,
+then, he could stay until dawn at least, and watch unobserved. Perhaps
+he could find where Ethel was guarded; perhaps he could do something to
+distract the attention of the brigands, and afford her an opportunity
+for flight.</p>
+
+<p>He now arose, and, kneeling in the coffin, he raised the lid. The
+earth that was upon it fell down inside. He tilted the lid up, and
+holding it up thus with one hand, he put his head carefully out of the
+grave, and looked out
+<span class = "pagenum">121b</span>
+in the direction where Girasole had gone with his prisoners. The knoll
+to which he had led them was a very conspicuous place, and had probably
+been selected for that reason, since it could be under his own
+observation, from time to time, even at a distance. It was about
+half-way between the grave and the nearest fire, which fire, though low,
+still gave forth some light, and the light was in a line with the knoll
+to Hawbury's eyes. The party on the knoll, therefore, appeared thrown
+out into relief by the faint fire-light behind them, especially the
+priest and Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>And now Hawbury kept his watch, and looked and listened and waited,
+ever mindful of his own immediate neighborhood, and guarding carefully
+against any approach. But his own place was in gloom, and no one would
+have thought of looking there, so that he was unobserved.</p>
+
+<p>But all his watching gave him no assistance toward finding out any
+way of rescuing Ethel. He saw the vigilant guard around the prisoners.
+Once or twice he saw a movement among
+<span class = "pagenum">122</span>
+them, but it was soon over, and resulted in nothing. Now he began to
+despond, and to speculate in his mind as to whether Ethel was in any
+danger or not. He began to calculate the time that might be required to
+go for help with which to attack the brigands. He wondered what reason
+Girasole might have to injure Ethel. But whatever hope he had that mercy
+might be shown her was counterbalanced by his own experience of
+Girasole's cruelty, and his knowledge of his merciless character.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he was roused by the rifle-shot and the confusion that
+followed. He saw the party on the mound start to their feet. He heard
+the shots that succeeded the first one. He saw shadows darting to and
+fro. Then the confusion grew worse, and all the sounds of battle
+arose&mdash;the cries, the shrieks, and the stern words of command.</p>
+
+<p>All this filled him with hope. An attack was being made. They might
+all be saved. He could see that the brigands were being driven back, and
+that the assailants were pressing on.</p>
+
+<p>Then he saw the party moving from the knoll. It was already much
+lighter. They advanced toward him. He sank down and waited. He had no
+fear now that this party would complete his burial. He thought they were
+flying with the prisoners. If so, the assailants would soon be here; he
+could join them, and lead them on to the rescue of Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>He lay low with the lid over him. He heard them close beside him.
+Then there was the noise of rushing men, and Girasole's voice arose.</p>
+
+<p>He heard all that followed.</p>
+
+<p>Then Ethel's shriek sounded out, as she sprang toward the grave.</p>
+
+<p>In an instant the occupant of the grave, seizing the lid, raised it
+up, and with a wild yell sprang forth.</p>
+
+<p>The effect was tremendous.</p>
+
+<p>The brigands thought the dead Antonio had come to life. They did not
+stop to look, but with a howl of awful terror, and in an anguish of
+fright, they turned and ran for their lives!</p>
+
+<p>Girasole saw him too, with equal horror, if not greater. He saw
+Hawbury. It was the man whom he had killed stone-dead with his own hand.
+He was there before him&mdash;or was it his ghost? For an instant horror
+paralyzed him; and then, with a yell like a madman's, he leaped back and
+fled after the others.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXVI" id = "chapXXXVI">
+CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+FLY! FLY!</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">In</span> the midst of that wild uproar
+which had roused Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby there was nothing that
+startled him so much as her declaration that she was not Arethusa. He
+stood
+<span class = "pagenum">122b</span>
+bewildered. While she was listening to the sounds, he was listening to
+the echo of her words; while she was wondering at the cause of such a
+tumult, he was wondering at this disclosure. In a moment a thousand
+little things suggested themselves as he stood there in his confusion,
+which little things all went to throw a flood of light upon her
+statement, and prove that she was another person than that "demon wife"
+who had been the cause of all his woes. Her soft glance, her gentle
+manner, her sweet and tender expression&mdash;above all, the tone of her
+voice; all these at once opened his eyes. In the course of their
+conversation she had spoken in a low tone, often in a whisper, so that
+this fact with regard to the difference of voice had not been
+perceptible; but her last words were spoken louder, and he observed the
+difference.</p>
+
+<p>Now the tumult grew greater, and the reports of the rifles more
+frequent. The noise was communicated to the house, and in the rooms and
+the hall below there were tramplings of feet, and hurryings to and fro,
+and the rattle of arms, and the voices of men, in the midst of which
+rose the stern command of Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"Forward! Follow me!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the distant reports grew nearer and yet nearer, and all the men
+rushed from the house, and their tramp was heard outside as they hurried
+away to the scene of conflict.</p>
+
+<p>"It's an attack! The brigands are attacked!" cried Mrs.
+Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres said nothing. He was collecting his scattered thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, may Heaven grant that we may be saved! Oh, it is the
+troops&mdash;it must be! Oh, Sir, come, come; help us to escape! My
+darling sister is here. Save her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your sister?" cried Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; come, save her! My sister&mdash;my darling Minnie!"</p>
+
+<p>With these words Mrs. Willoughby rushed from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Her sister! her sister!" repeated Dacres&mdash;"Minnie Fay!
+<i>Her</i> sister! Good Lord! What a most infernal ass I've been making
+of myself this last month!"</p>
+
+<p>He stood still for a few moments, overwhelmed by this thought, and
+apparently endeavoring to realize the full extent and enormous size and
+immense proportions, together with the infinite extent of ear,
+appertaining to the ass to which he had transformed himself; but finally
+he shook his head despondingly, as though he gave it up altogether. Then
+he hurried after Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby rushed into Minnie's room, and clasped her sister in
+her arms with frantic tears and kisses.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my precious darling!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Minnie, "isn't this really too bad? I was <i>so</i>
+tired, you know, and I was just beginning to go to sleep, when those
+horrid men began firing their guns. I really do think that every body is
+banded together to tease me.
+<span class = "pagenum">123</span>
+I do <i>wish</i> they'd all go away and let me have a little peace. I am
+so tired and sleepy!"</p>
+
+<p>While Minnie was saying this her sister was embracing her and kissing
+her and crying over her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come, Minnie, come!" she cried; "make haste. We must fly!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" said Minnie, wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Any where&mdash;any where out of this awful place: into the
+woods."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I don't see the use of going into the woods. It's all wet, you
+know. Can't we get a carriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, no; we must not wait. They'll all be back soon and kill
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"Kill us! What for?" cried Minnie. "What do you mean? How silly you
+are, Kitty darling!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Dacres entered. The image of the immeasurable ass was
+still very prominent in his mind, and he had lost all his fever and
+delirium. One thought only remained (besides that of the ass, of
+course), and that was&mdash;escape.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you ready?" he asked, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, yes; let us make haste," said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"I think no one is below," said he; "but I will go first. There is a
+good place close by. We will run there. If I fall, you must run on and
+try to get there. It is the bank just opposite. Once there, you are in
+the woods. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, yes!" cried Mrs. Willoughby. "Haste! Oh, haste!"</p>
+
+<p>Dacres turned, and Mrs. Willoughby had just grasped Minnie's hand to
+follow, when suddenly they heard footsteps below.</p>
+
+<p>They stopped, appalled.</p>
+
+<p>The robbers had not all gone, then. Some of them must have remained
+on guard. But how many?</p>
+
+<p>Dacres listened and the ladies listened, and in their suspense the
+beating of each heart was audible. The footsteps below could be heard
+going from room to room, and pausing in each.</p>
+
+<p>"There seems to be only one man," said Dacres, in a whisper. "If
+there is only one, I'll engage to manage him. While I grapple, you run
+for your lives. Remember the bank."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; but oh, Sir, there may be more," said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see," said Dacres, softly.</p>
+
+<p>He went cautiously to the front window and looked out. By the
+increased light he could see quite plainly. No men were visible. From
+afar the noise of the strife came to his ears louder than ever, and he
+could see the flashes of the rifles.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres stole back again from the window and went to the door. He
+stood and listened.</p>
+
+<p>And now the footsteps came across the hall to the foot of the stairs.
+Dacres could see the figure of a solitary man, but it was dark in the
+hall, and he could not make him out.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">123b</span>
+
+<p>He began to think that there was only one enemy to encounter.</p>
+
+<p>The man below put his foot on the lowest stair.</p>
+
+<p>Then he hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres stood in the shadow of the other doorway, which was nearer to
+the head of the stairs, and prepared to spring as soon as the stranger
+should come within reach. But the stranger delayed still.</p>
+
+<p>At length he spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, up there!"</p>
+
+<p>The sound of those simple words produced an amazing effect upon the
+hearers. Dacres sprang down with a cry of joy. "Come, come!" he shouted
+to the ladies; "friends are here!" And running down the stairs, he
+reached the bottom and grasped the stranger by both arms.</p>
+
+<p>In the dim light he could detect a tall, slim, sinewy form, with
+long, black, ragged hair and white neck-tie.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd best get out of this, and quick, too," said the Rev. Saul
+Tozer. "They're all off now, but they'll be back here in less than no
+time. I jest thought I'd look in to see if any of you folks was
+around."</p>
+
+<p>By this time the ladies were both at the bottom of the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" said Tozer; "hurry up, folks. I'll take one lady and you take
+t'other."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the woods?"</p>
+
+<p>"Like a book."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," said Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>He grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand and started.</p>
+
+<p>"But Minnie!" said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better let him take her; it's safer for all of us," said
+Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby looked back as she was dragged on after Dacres, and
+saw Tozer following them, holding Minnie's hand. This reassured her.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres dragged her on to the foot of the bank. Here she tried to keep
+up with him, but it was steep, and she could not.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Dacres stopped, and, without a word, raised her in his arms
+as though she were a little child, and ran up the bank. He plunged into
+the woods. Then he ran on farther. Then he turned and doubled.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby begged him to put her down.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he; "they are behind us. You can not go fast enough. I
+should have to wait and defend you, and then we would both be lost."</p>
+
+<p>"But, oh! we are losing Minnie."</p>
+
+<p>"No, we are not," cried Dacres; "that man is ten times stronger than
+I am. He is a perfect elephant in strength. He dashed past me up the
+hill."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Your face was turned the other way. He is ahead of us now
+somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish we <i>could</i> catch up to him."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">124</span>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic124.png" width = "344" height = "458"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"AT THIS DACRES RUSHED ON FASTER."</p>
+
+<p>At this Dacres rushed on faster. The effort was tremendous. He leaped
+over fallen timbers, he burst through the underbrush.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm sure you'll <i>kill</i> yourself if you go so fast," said
+Mrs. Willoughby. "We can't catch up to them."</p>
+
+<p>At this Dacres slackened his pace, and went on more carefully. She
+again begged him to put her down. He again refused. Upon this she felt
+perfectly helpless, and recalled, in a vague way, Minnie's ridiculous
+question of "How would you like to be run away with by a great, big,
+horrid man, Kitty darling?"</p>
+
+<p>Then she began to think he was insane, and felt very anxious.</p>
+
+<p>At last Dacres stopped. He was utterly exhausted. He was panting
+terribly. It had been a fearful journey. He had run along the bank up to
+that narrow valley which he had traversed the day before, and when he
+stopped it was on the top of that precipice where he had formerly
+rested, and where he had nurtured such dark purposes against Mrs.
+Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby looked at him, full of pity. He was utterly broken
+down by this last effort.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">124b</span>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" she thought. "Is he sane or insane? What <i>am</i> I to
+do? It is dreadful to have to go on and humor his queer fancies."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXVII" id = "chapXXXVII">
+CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+MINNIE'S LAST LIFE-PRESERVER.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">When</span> Tozer started after Dacres he
+led Minnie by the hand for only a little distance. On reaching the
+acclivity he seized her in his arms, thus imitating Dacres's example,
+and rushed up, reaching the top before the other. Then he plunged into
+the woods, and soon became separated from his companion.</p>
+
+<p>Once in the woods, he went along quite leisurely, carrying Minnie
+without any difficulty, and occasionally addressing to her a soothing
+remark, assuring her that she was safe. Minnie, however, made no remark
+of any kind, good or bad, but remained quite silent, occupied with her
+own thoughts. At length Tozer stopped and put her down. It was a place
+upon the edge of a cliff on the shore of the lake, and as
+<span class = "pagenum">125</span>
+much as a mile from the house. The cliff was almost fifty feet high, and
+was perpendicular. All around was the thick forest, and it was unlikely
+that such a place could be discovered.</p>
+
+<p class = "floatleft">
+<img src = "images/pic125.png" width = "216" height = "289"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"'WORSE AND WORSE,' SAID TOZER."</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said he; "we've got to stop here, and it's about the right
+place. We couldn't get any where nigh to the soldiers without the
+brigands seeing us; so we'll wait here till the fight's over, and the
+brigands all chased off."</p>
+
+<p>"The soldiers! what soldiers?" asked Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, they're having a fight over there&mdash;the soldiers are
+attacking the brigands."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I didn't know. Nobody told me. And did you come with the
+soldiers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, not exactly. I came with the priest and the young lady."</p>
+
+<p>"But you were not at the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. They wouldn't take me all the way. The priest said I couldn't be
+disguised&mdash;but I don't see why not&mdash;so he left me in the woods
+till he came back. And then the soldiers came, and we crept on till we
+came nigh the lake. Well, then I stole away; and when they made an
+attack the brigands all ran there to fight, and I watched till I saw the
+coast clear; and so I came, and here we are."</p>
+
+<p>Minnie now was quite silent and preoccupied, and occasionally she
+glanced sadly at Tozer with her large, pathetic, child-like eyes. It was
+a very piteous look, full of the most tender entreaty. Tozer
+occasionally glanced at her, and then, like her, he sat silent, involved
+in his own thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"And so," said Minnie at last, "you're not the priest himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"The priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no; I don't call myself a priest. I'm a minister of the
+Gospel."</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">125b</span>
+
+<p>"Well, you're not a <i>real</i> priest, then."</p>
+
+<p>"All men of my calling are real priests&mdash;yes, priests and kings.
+I yield to no man in the estimate which I set upon my high and holy
+calling."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I mean a Roman Catholic priest," said Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>"A Roman Catholic priest! Me! Why, what a question! Me! a Roman
+Catholic! Why, in our parts folks call me the Protestant Champion."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, and so you're only a Protestant, after all," said Minnie, in a
+disappointed tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Only a Protestant!" repeated Tozer, severely&mdash;"<i>only</i> a
+Protestant. Why, ain't you one yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; but I hoped you were the other priest, you know. I did
+<i>so</i> want to have a Roman Catholic priest this time."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer was silent. It struck him that this young lady was in danger.
+Her wish for a Roman Catholic priest boded no good. She had just come
+from Rome. No doubt she had been tampered with. Some Jesuits had caught
+her, and had tried to proselytize her. His soul swelled with indignation
+at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Minnie again.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Tozer, in a sympathizing voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that you saved my life, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry? sorry? that I saved your life?" repeated Tozer, in
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, you know, I did so want to be saved by a Roman Catholic
+priest, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"To be saved by a Roman Catholic priest!" repeated Tozer, pondering
+these words in his mind as he slowly pronounced them. He could make
+nothing of them at first, but finally concluded that they concealed some
+half-suggested tendency to Rome.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like this&mdash;I don't like this," he said, solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"What don't you like?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's dangerous. It looks bad," said Tozer, with increased
+solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>"What's dangerous? You look so solemn that you really make me feel
+quite nervous. What's dangerous?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, your words. I see in you, I think, a kind of leaning toward
+Rome."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't Rome," said Minnie. "I don't lean to Rome. I only lean a
+little toward a Roman Catholic priest."</p>
+
+<p>"Worse and worse," said Tozer. "Dear! dear! dear! worse <i>and</i>
+worse. This beats all. Young woman, beware! But perhaps I don't
+understand you. You surely don't mean that your affections are engaged
+to any Roman Catholic priest. You can't mean <i>that</i>. Why, they
+can't marry."</p>
+
+<p>"But that's just what I like them so for," said Minnie. "I like
+people that don't marry; I hate people that want to marry."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer turned this over in his mind, but could
+<span class = "pagenum">126</span>
+make nothing of it. At length he thought he saw in this an additional
+proof that she had been tampered with by Jesuits at Rome. He thought he
+saw in this a statement of her belief in the Roman Catholic doctrine of
+celibacy.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head more solemnly than ever. "It's not Gospel," said
+he. "It's mere human tradition. Why, for centuries there was a married
+priesthood even in the Latin Church. Dunstan's chief measures consisted
+in a fierce war on the married clergy. So did Hildebrand's&mdash;Gregory
+the Seventh, you know. The Church at Milan, sustained by the doctrines
+of the great Ambrose, always preferred a married clergy. The worst
+measures of Hildebrand were against these good pastors and their wives.
+And in the Eastern Church they have always had it."</p>
+
+<p>Of course all this was quite beyond Minnie; so she gave a little
+sigh, and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Now as to Rome," resumed Tozer. "Have you ever given a careful study
+to the Apocalypse&mdash;not a hasty reading, as people generally do, but
+a serious, earnest, and careful examination?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I haven't any idea what in the world you're talking about,"
+said Minnie. "I <i>wish</i> you wouldn't talk so. I don't understand one
+single word of what you say."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer started and stared at this. It was a depth of ignorance that
+transcended that of the other young lady with whom he had conversed. But
+he attributed it all to "Roman" influences. They dreaded the Apocalypse,
+and had not allowed either of these young ladies to become acquainted
+with its tremendous pages. Moreover, there was something else. There was
+a certain light and trifling tone which she used in referring to these
+things, and it pained him. He sat involved in a long and very serious
+consideration of her case, and once or twice looked at her with so very
+peculiar an expression that Minnie began to feel very uneasy indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Tozer at length cleared his throat, and fixed upon Minnie a very
+affectionate and tender look.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear young friend," said he, "have you ever reflected upon the
+way you are living?"</p>
+
+<p>At this Minnie gave him a frightened little look, and her head
+fell.</p>
+
+<p>"You are young now, but you can't be young always; youth and beauty
+and loveliness all are yours, but they can't last; and now is the time
+for you to make your choice&mdash;now in life's gay morn. It ain't easy
+when you get old. Remember that, my dear. Make your choice
+now&mdash;now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Minnie; "I knew it. But I can't&mdash;and I don't
+want to&mdash;and I think it's <i>very</i> unkind in you. I don't want
+to make <i>any</i> choice. I don't want any of you. It's <i>so</i>
+horrid."</p>
+
+<p>This was a dreadful shock to Tozer; but he could not turn aside from
+this beautiful yet erring creature.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">126b</span>
+
+<p>"Oh, I entreat you&mdash;I implore you, my dear,
+<i>dear</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I do <i>wish</i> you wouldn't talk to me that way, and call me your
+<i>dear</i>. I don't like it; no, not even if you <i>did</i> save my
+life, though really I didn't know there was any danger. But I'm not
+<i>your</i> dear."</p>
+
+<p>And Minnie tossed her head with a little air of determination, as
+though she had quite made up her mind on that point.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well now, really now," said Tozer, "it was only a natural
+expression. I <i>do</i> take a deep interest in you, my&mdash;that
+is&mdash;miss; I feel a sincere regard and affection and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But it's no use," said Minnie. "You really <i>can't,</i> you know;
+and so, why, you <i>mustn't</i>, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer did not clearly understand this, so after a brief pause he
+resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"But what I was saying is of far more importance. I referred to your
+life. Now you're not happy as you are."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, but I am," said Minnie, briskly.</p>
+
+<p>Tozer sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm <i>very</i> happy," continued Minnie, "very, very
+happy&mdash;that is, when I'm with dear, darling Kitty, and dear, dear
+Ethel, and my darling old Dowdy, and dear, kind papa."</p>
+
+<p>Tozer sighed again.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't be <i>truly</i> happy thus," he said, mournfully. "You may
+think you are, but you <i>ain't</i>. My heart fairly yearns over you
+when I see you, so young, so lovely, and so innocent; and I know you
+can't be happy as you are. You must live otherwise. And oh, I pray
+you&mdash;I entreat you to set your affections elsewhere!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I think it's very, very horrid in you to press me so,"
+said, Minnie, with something actually like asperity in her tone; "but
+it's <i>quite</i> impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"But oh, why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, because I don't want to have things any different. But if I
+have to be worried and teased so, and if people insist on it so, why,
+there's only one that I'll <i>ever</i> consent to."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is that?" asked Tozer, looking at her with the most
+affectionate solicitude.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's&mdash;it's&mdash;" Minnie paused, and looked a little
+confused.</p>
+
+<p>"It's what?" asked Tozer, with still deeper and more anxious
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's&mdash;it's&mdash;Rufus K. Gunn."</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<p class = "floatleft chapter">
+<img src = "images/pic127.png" width = "208" height = "291"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption narrow">
+"THE DISCOVERY OF A BODY ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE."</p>
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXVIII" id = "chapXXXVIII">
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+THE IMPATIENT BARON.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> brigands had resisted
+stubbornly, but finally found themselves without a leader. Girasole had
+disappeared; and as his voice no longer directed their movements, they
+began to fall into confusion. The attacking party, on the other hand,
+was well led, and made a steady advance, driving the enemy before them.
+At
+<span class = "pagenum">127</span>
+length the brigands lost heart, and took to flight. With a wild cheer
+the assailants followed in pursuit. But the fugitives took to the
+forest, and were soon beyond the reach of their pursuers in its familiar
+intricacies, and the victors were summoned back by the sound of the
+trumpet.</p>
+
+<p>It was now daylight, and as the conquering party emerged from the
+forest they showed the uniform of the Papal Zouaves; while their leader,
+who had shown himself so skillful in forest warfare, proved to be no
+less a personage than our friend the Baron. Led by him, the party
+advanced to the old stone house, and here, drawing up his men in front,
+their leader rushed in, and searched every room. To his amazement, he
+found the house deserted, its only inmate being that dead brigand whom
+Girasole had mistaken for Hawbury. This discovery filled the Baron with
+consternation. He had expected to find the prisoners here, and his
+dismay and grief were excessive. At first he could not believe in his
+ill luck; but another search convinced him of it, and reduced him to a
+state of perfect bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>But he was not one who could long remain inactive. Feeling confident
+that the brigands were scattered every where in headlong flight, he sent
+his men out in different directions, into the woods and along the shore,
+to see if they could find any traces of the lost ones. He himself
+remained near the house, so as to direct the search most efficiently.
+After about an hour they came back, one by one, without being able to
+find many traces. One had found an empty coffin in a grave, another a
+woman's hood, a third had found a scarf. All of these had endeavored to
+follow up these traces, but
+<span class = "pagenum">127b</span>
+without result. Finally a man approached who announced the discovery of
+a body on the shore of the lake. After him came a party who was carrying
+the corpse for the inspection of their captain.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron went to look at it. The body showed a great gap in the
+skull. On questioning the men, he learned that they had found it on the
+shore, at the bottom of a steep rock, about half-way between the house
+and the place where they had first emerged from the woods. His head was
+lying pressed against a sharp rock in such a way that it was evident
+that he had fallen over the cliff, and had been instantly killed. The
+Baron looked at the face, and recognized the features of Girasole. He
+ordered it to be taken away and laid in the empty grave for future
+burial.</p>
+
+<p>The Baron now became impatient. This was not what he had bargained
+for at all. At length he thought that they might have fled, and might
+now be concealed in the woods around; and together with this thought
+there came to his mind an idea of an effective way to reach them. The
+trumpeter could send forth a blast which could be heard far and wide.
+But what might, could, would, or should the trumpeter sound forth which
+should give the concealed listeners a certainty that the summons came
+from friends and not from foes? This the Baron puzzled over for some
+time. At length he solved this problem also, and triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>There was one strain which the trumpeter might sound that could not
+be mistaken. It would at once convey to the concealed hearers all the
+truth, and gently woo them home. It would be at once a note of victory,
+a song of joy, a call of love, a sound of peace, and an
+invitation&mdash;"Wanderer, come home!"</p>
+
+<p>Of course there was only one tune that, to the mind of the Baron, was
+capable of doing this.</p>
+
+<p>And of course that tune was "Yankee Doodle."</p>
+
+<p>Did the trumpeter know it?</p>
+
+<p>Of course he did.</p>
+
+<p>Who does not know it?</p>
+
+<p>All men know that tune. Man is born with an innate knowledge of the
+strain of "Yankee Doodle." No one can remember when he first learned it.
+The reason is because he never learned it at all. It was born in
+him.</p>
+
+<p>So the trumpeter sounded it forth, and wild and high and clear and
+far the sounds arose; and it was "Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes
+flying; and answer, echoes, answer, Yankee Doodle dying."</p>
+
+<p>And while the trumpet sounded the Baron listened and listened, and
+walked up and down, and fretted and fumed and chafed, and I'm afraid he
+swore a little too; and at last he was going to tell the trumpeter to
+stop his infernal noise, when, just at that moment, what should he see
+all of a sudden emerging from the woods but three figures!</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">128</span>
+
+<p>And I'll leave you to imagine, if you can, the joy and delight which
+agitated the bosom of our good Baron as he recognized among these three
+figures the well-known face and form of his friend Hawbury. With Hawbury
+was a lady whom the Baron remembered having seen once in the upper hall
+of a certain house in Rome, on a memorable occasion, when he stood on
+the stairs calling <i>Min</i>. The lady was very austere then, but she
+was very gracious now, and very wonderfully sweet in the expression of
+her face. And with them was a stranger in the garb of a priest.</p>
+
+<p>Now as soon as the party met the Baron, who rushed to meet them,
+Hawbury wrung his hand, and stared at him in unbounded astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" he cried; "yourself, old boy! By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Baron. "You see, the moment we got into that ambush I
+kept my eye open, and got a chance to spring into the woods. There I was
+all right, and ran for it. I got into the road again a couple of miles
+back, got a horse, rode to Civita Castellana, and there I was lucky
+enough to find a company of Zouaves. Well, Sir, we came here flying,
+mind, I tell you, and got hold of a chap that we made guide us to the
+lake. Then we opened on them; and here we are, by thunder! But where's
+Min?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" asked Hawbury.</p>
+
+<p>"Min," said the Baron, in the most natural tone in the world.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Why, isn't she here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. We've hunted every where. No one's here at all." And the Baron
+went on to tell about their search and its results. Hawbury was chiefly
+struck by the news of Girasole.</p>
+
+<p>"He must have gone mad with terror," said Hawbury, as he told the
+Baron about his adventure at the grave. "If that's so," he added, "I
+don't see how the ladies could be harmed. I dare say they've run off.
+Why, we started to run, and got so far off that we couldn't find our way
+back, even after the trumpet began to sound. You must keep blowing at
+it, you know. Play all the national tunes you can&mdash;no end. They'll
+find their way back if you give them time."</p>
+
+<p>And now they all went back to the house, and the Baron in his anxiety
+could not talk any more, but began his former occupation of walking up
+and down, and fuming and fretting and chafing, and, I'm again afraid,
+swearing&mdash;when all of a sudden, on the bank in front of him, on the
+very top, just emerging from the thick underbrush which had concealed
+them till that moment, to their utter amazement and indescribable
+delight, they beheld Scone Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby. Scone Dacres
+appeared to Hawbury to be in a totally different frame of mind from that
+in which he had been when he last saw him; and what perplexed him most,
+yea, and absolutely confounded him, was the sight of Scone Dacres with
+his demon wife, whom he had been pursuing for the sake of vengeance, and
+whose frenzy had been
+<span class = "pagenum">128b</span>
+so violent that he himself had been drawn with him on purpose to try and
+restrain him. And now what was the injured husband doing with his demon
+wife? Doing! why, doing the impassioned lover most vigorously;
+sustaining her steps most tenderly; grasping her hand; pushing aside the
+bushes; assisting her down the slope; overwhelming her, in short;
+hovering round her, apparently unconscious that there was in all the
+wide world any other being than Mrs. Willoughby. And as Hawbury looked
+upon all this his eyes dilated and his lips parted involuntarily in
+utter wonder; and finally, as Dacres reached the spot, the only greeting
+which he could give his friend was,</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>And now, while Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel were embracing with tears of
+joy, and overwhelming one another with questions, the Baron sought
+information from Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres then informed him all about Tozer's advent and departure.</p>
+
+<p>"Tozer!" cried the Baron, in intense delight. "Good on his darned old
+head! Hurrah for the parson! He shall marry us for this&mdash;he, and no
+other, by thunder!"</p>
+
+<p>Upon which Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel exchanged glances, but said not
+a word. Not they.</p>
+
+<p>But in about five minutes, when Mrs. Willoughby had Ethel apart a
+little by herself, she said,</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Ethel dear, isn't it dreadful?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Ethel.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, poor Minnie."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Minnie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Another horrid man. And he'll be claiming her too. And, oh
+dear! what shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you'll have to let her decide for herself. I think it will
+be&mdash;this person."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby clasped her hands, and looked up with a pretty little
+expression of horror.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you know, dear," added Ethel, "I'm beginning to think that it
+wouldn't be so <i>very</i> bad. He's Lord Hawbury's friend, you know,
+and then he's very, very brave; and, above all, think what we all owe
+him."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby gave a resigned sigh.</p>
+
+<p>And now the Baron was wilder with impatience than ever. He had
+questioned Dacres, and found that he could give him no information
+whatever as to Tozer's route, and consequently had no idea where to
+search. But he still had boundless confidence in "Yankee Doodle."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the way," said Dacres; "we heard it ever so far, and it was
+the first thing that told us it was safe to return. We didn't dare to
+venture before."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Hawbury had got Dacres by himself, and poured a torrent of
+questions over him. Dacres told him in general terms how he was
+captured. Then he informed him how Mrs. Willoughby was put in the same
+room, and his
+<span class = "pagenum">129</span>
+discovery that it was Minnie that the Italian wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, do you know, old chap," continued Dacres, "I couldn't stand
+it; so I offered to make it all up with her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see you've done that, old boy. Congrat&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! wait a minute," said Dacres, interrupting him. "Well, you
+know, she wasn't my wife at all."</p>
+
+<p>At this Hawbury stood utterly aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wasn't my wife at all. She looks confoundedly like what my wife
+was at her best, but she's another person. It's a most extraordinary
+likeness; and yet she's isn't any relation, but a great deal prettier
+woman. What made me so sure, you know, was the infernally odd
+coincidence of the name; and then I only saw her off and on, you know,
+and I never heard her voice. Then, you know, I was mad with jealousy;
+and so I made myself worse and worse, till I was ripe for murder, arson,
+<ins class = "correction" title = "spelling unchanged">assasination</ins>,
+and all that sort of thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>To all this Hawbury listened in amazement, and could not utter a
+word, until at last, as Dacres paused, he said,</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man, I was the most infernal ass that ever lived. And how
+I must have bored you!"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury again. "But drive on, old boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, the row occurred just then, and away went the
+scoundrels to the fight, and in came that parson fellow, and away we
+went. I took Mrs. Willoughby to a safe place, where I kept her till I
+heard the trumpet, you know. And I've got another thing to tell you.
+It's deuced odd, but she knew all about me."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce she did!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the whole story. Lived somewhere in the county. But I don't
+remember the Fays. At any rate, she lived there; and do you know, old
+fellow, the county people used to think I beat my wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and afterward they raised a report that my cruelty had driven
+her mad. But I had a few friends that stood up for me; and among others
+these Fays, you know, had heard the truth of it, and, as it happened,
+Kitty&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mrs. Willoughby, I mean&mdash;her name's Kitty&mdash;has
+always known the truth about it; and when she saw me at Naples she felt
+interested in me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" and Hawbury opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she knew all about it; and, among other things, she gave me
+one piece of intelligence that has eased my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! what's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my wife <i>is</i> dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then there's no doubt about it?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">129b</span>
+
+<p>"Not a bit. She died eight years ago, and in an insane asylum."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! Then she was mad all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; that accounts for it, and turns all my curses into pity."</p>
+
+<p>Dacres was silent now for a few moments. At length he looked at
+Hawbury with a very singular expression.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawbury, old boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Sconey?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think we'll keep it up."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Kitty and I&mdash;that is, Mrs. Willoughby and I&mdash;her
+name's Kitty, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Keep what up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the&mdash;the&mdash;the fond illusion, and all that sort of
+thing. You see I've got into such an infernal habit of regarding her as
+my wife that I can't look on her in any other light. I claimed her, you
+know, and all that sort of thing, and she thought I was delirious, and
+felt sorry, and humored me, and gave me a very favorable answer."</p>
+
+<p class = "floatright">
+<img src = "images/pic130.png" width = "343" height = "455"
+alt = "(see caption)">
+</p>
+
+<p class = "caption half">
+"HE GAVE A LOUD CRY OF JOY, AND THEN SPRANG UP THE BANK."</p>
+
+<p>"Humored you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; that's what she says now, you know. But I'm holding her to it,
+and I've every reason to believe, you know&mdash;in fact, I may as well
+say that it is an understood thing, you know, that she'll let it go, you
+know, and at some early day, you know, we'll have it all formally
+settled, and all that sort of thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury wrung his friend's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, old boy; you see Ethel there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you think she is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ethel Orne</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel <i>Orne</i>!" cried Dacres, as the whole truth flashed on his
+mind. "What a devil of a jumble every thing has been getting
+into!&mdash;By Heaven, dear boy, I congratulate you from the bottom of
+my soul!"</p>
+
+<p>And he wrung Hawbury's hand as though all his soul was in that
+grasp.</p>
+
+<p>But all this could not satisfy the impatience of the Baron. This was
+all very well in its way, merely as an episode; but he was waiting for
+the chief incident of the piece, and the chief incident was delaying
+very unaccountably.</p>
+
+<p>So he strode up and down, and he fretted and he fumed and he chafed,
+and the trumpeter kept blowing away.</p>
+
+<p>Until at last&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Just before his eyes&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Up there on the top of the bank, not far from where Dacres and Mrs.
+Willoughby had made their appearance, the Baron caught sight of a tall,
+lank, slim figure, clothed in rusty black, whose thin and leathery face,
+rising above a white neck-tie, peered solemnly yet interrogatively
+through the bushes; while just behind him the Baron caught a glimpse of
+the flutter of a woman's dress.</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">130</span>
+
+<p>He gave a loud cry of joy, and then sprang up the bank.</p>
+
+<p class = "center pad">******</p>
+
+<p>But over that meeting I think we had better draw a veil.</p>
+
+<hr class = "chapter">
+
+
+<h4 class = "chapter"><a name = "chapXXXIX" id = "chapXXXIX">
+CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></h4>
+
+<h6 class = "subhead">
+ASTONISHING WAY OF CONCLUDING AN ADVENTURE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class = "smallcaps">The</span> meeting between the Baron and
+Minnie gave a new shock to poor Mrs. Willoughby, who looked with a
+helpless expression, and walked away for a little distance. Dacres and
+Hawbury were still eagerly conversing and questioning one another about
+their adventures. Tozer also had descended and joined himself to the
+priest; and each of these groups had leisure for a prolonged
+conversation before they were interrupted. At length Minnie made her
+appearance, and flung herself into her sister's arms, while at the same
+time the Baron grasped Tozer by both hands, and called out, in a voice
+loud enough to be heard by all,</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">130b</span>
+
+<p>"You shall marry us, parson&mdash;and this very day, by thunder!"</p>
+
+<p>These words came to Mrs. Willoughby's ears in the midst of her first
+joy at meeting her sister, and shocked her inexpressibly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that, Minnie darling?" she asked, anxiously. "What is it? Did
+you hear what that dreadful&mdash;what the&mdash;the Baron said?"</p>
+
+<p>Minnie looked sweetly conscious, but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>does</i> he mean?" asked her sister again.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he means what he says," replied Minnie, with a timid air,
+stealing a shy look at the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Willoughby; "there's another dreadful trouble, I
+know. It's very, very hard&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure," said Minnie, "I can't help it. They all do so. That
+clergyman came and saved me, and he wasn't a Roman Catholic clergyman at
+all, and he proposed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Proposed!" cried Mrs. Willoughby, aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," said Minnie, solemnly; "and I had hard work preventing him.
+But, really, it was <i>too</i> absurd, and I would not let him be too
+explicit. But I didn't hurt his feelings. Well, you know, then all of a
+sudden, as we were sitting there, the bugle sounded, and we came back.
+Well, then, Rufus K. Gunn came&mdash;and you know how very violent he is
+in his way&mdash;and he said he saved my life again, and so he
+proposed."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i> proposed! Why, he had proposed before."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; but that was for an engagement, and this was for our
+marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"Marriage!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; and, you see, he had actually saved my life twice, and he
+was very urgent, and he is so awfully affectionate, and so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what?" cried Mrs. Willoughby, seeing Minnie hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<span class = "pagenum">131</span>
+
+<p>"I mean, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You what? Really, Minnie dearest, you might tell me, and not keep me
+in such dreadful suspense."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what could I say?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what <i>did</i> you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I think I&mdash;said&mdash;yes," said Minnie, casting down her
+eyes with indescribable sweetness, shyness, meekness, and resignation.
+Mrs. Willoughby actually shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty," exclaimed Minnie, who at once noticed it, "you needn't
+be so horrid. I'm sure you can't say any thing against him <i>now</i>.
+You needn't look so. You <i>always</i> hated him. You <i>never</i> would
+treat him kindly."</p>
+
+<p>"But this&mdash;this marriage. It's too shocking."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he saved my life."</p>
+
+<p>"And to-day! How utterly preposterous! It's shameful!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure I can't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's too horrid!" continued Mrs. Willoughby, in an excited tone. "It
+will break poor papa's heart. And it will break poor darling aunty's
+heart. And it will break my heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty dearest, this is too silly in you. If it hadn't been for
+him, I would now be married to that wretched Count, who hadn't
+sufficient affection for me to get me a chair to sit on, and who was
+very, very rude to you. You didn't care, though, whether I was married
+to him or not; and now when I am saved from him you have nothing but
+very unpleasant things to say about Rufus K. Gunn."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, what <i>would</i> I give if you were only safe home!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure I don't see what <i>I</i> can do. People are always
+saving my life. And there is Captain Kirby hunting all over Italy for
+me. And I <i>know</i> I will be saved by
+somebody&mdash;if&mdash;if&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;if&mdash;I&mdash;if&mdash;you
+know&mdash;that is&mdash;I'm sure&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby, as Minnie broke down in confusion.
+"It is <i>too</i> absurd. I won't talk about it. You are a silly child.
+Oh, how I <i>do</i> wish you were home!"</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture the conversation was interrupted by the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not my fashion, ma'am," said he, gravely, "to remind another
+of any obligation under which he may be to me; but my claims on Minnie
+have been so opposed by you and the rest of her friends that I have to
+ask you to think of them. Your father knows what my first claims are.
+You yourself, ma'am, know perfectly well what the last claims are which
+I have won to-day."</p>
+
+<p>The Baron spoke calmly, firmly, and with dignity. Mrs. Willoughby
+answered not a word.</p>
+
+<p>"If you think on your position last night, and Minnie's, ma'am,"
+resumed the Baron, "you'll acknowledge, I expect, that it was pretty
+hard lines. What would you have given a few hours ago for a sight of my
+uniform in that old house yonder? If I had come then to save Minnie from
+the clutches of that <i>I</i>talian,
+<span class = "pagenum">131b</span>
+wouldn't you have given her to me with all your heart, and your prayers
+too? You would, by thunder! Think, ma'am, on your sufferings last night,
+and then answer me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby involuntarily thought of that night of horror, and
+shuddered, and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, ma'am, just listen to this. I find on coming here that this
+Italian had a priest here all ready to marry him and Minnie. If I'd been
+delayed or defeated, Minnie would have been that rascal's wife by this
+time. The priest was here. They would have been married as sure as
+you're born. You, ma'am, would have had to see this poor, trembling,
+broken-hearted, despairing girl torn from your arms, and bound by the
+marriage tie to a ruffian and a scoundrel whom she loathed. And now,
+ma'am, I save her from this. I have my priest too, ma'am. He ain't a
+Roman Catholic, it is true&mdash;he's an orthodox parson&mdash;but, at
+the same time, I ain't particular. Now I propose to avail myself this
+day of his invaluable services at the earliest hour possible; but, at
+the same time, if Min prefers it, I don't object to the priest, for I
+have a kind of Roman Catholic leaning myself.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you may ask, ma'am," continued the Baron, as Mrs. Willoughby
+continued silent&mdash;"you may ask why I'm in such a thundering hurry.
+My answer is, because you fit me off so. You tried to keep me from Min.
+You locked me out of your house. You threatened to hand me over to the
+police (and I'd like to see one of them try it on with me). You said I
+was mad or drunk; and finally you tried to run away. Then you rejected
+my advice, and plunged head-foremost into this fix. Now, in view of all
+this, my position is this&mdash;that I can't trust you. I've got Min
+now, and I mean to keep her. If you got hold of her again, I feel it
+would be the last of her. Consequently I ain't going to let her go. Not
+me. Not by a long chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"Finally, ma'am, if you'll allow me, I'll touch upon another point.
+I've thought over your objections to me. It ain't my rank&mdash;I'm a
+noble; it ain't money&mdash;I'm worth a hundred thousand dollars; it
+ain't my name&mdash;for I call myself Atramonte. It must be something in
+me. I've come to the conclusion that it's my general style&mdash;my
+manners and customs. Very well. Perhaps they don't come up to your
+standard. They mayn't square with your ideas. Yet, let me inform you,
+ma'am, there are other standards of action and manner and speech than
+those to which you are accustomed, and mine is one of them. Minnie
+doesn't object to that. She knows my heart is all right, and is willing
+to trust herself to me. Consequently I take her, and I mean to make her
+mine this day."</p>
+
+<p>As the Baron paused Mrs. Willoughby began, first of all, to express
+her gratitude, and then to beg him to postpone the marriage. She
+declared that it was an unheard-of thing, that it was shameful, that it
+was shocking, that it was dreadful. She grew very much excited;
+<span class = "pagenum">132</span>
+she protested, she entreated. Finally she burst into tears, and appealed
+to Lord Hawbury in the most moving terms. Hawbury listened very gravely,
+with his eyes wandering over to where Ethel was; and Ethel caught the
+expression of his face, and looked quite confused.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, think, only think," said Mrs. Willoughby, after an eloquent and
+pathetic appeal&mdash;"think how the poor child will be talked
+about!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really&mdash;ah&mdash;'pon my life," said Hawbury, with his
+eyes still wandering over toward Ethel, "I'm sure I
+don't&mdash;ah&mdash;share your views altogether, Mrs. Willoughby;
+for&mdash;ah&mdash;there <i>are</i> times, you know, when a fellow finds
+it very uncommonly desirable&mdash;runaway matches, you know, and all
+that sort of thing. And, by Jove! to tell the truth, I really admire the
+idea, by Jove! And really&mdash;ah&mdash;I'm sure&mdash;I wish most
+confoundedly it was the universal fashion, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"But she'll be so talked about. She'll make herself so shockingly
+<i>conspicuous</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Conspicuous? By Jove!" said Hawbury, who seemed struck by the idea.
+At that moment Minnie began talking to her sister, and Hawbury went off
+to Ethel, to whom he began talking in the most earnest manner. The two
+wandered off for some distance, and did not return for a full half hour.
+When they did return Ethel looked somewhat embarrassed, and Hawbury was
+radiant. With this radiance on his face he went up to Mrs. Willoughby,
+leaving Ethel in the background.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by-the-way," said he, "you were remarking that your sister would
+be too conspicuous by such a hasty marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Willoughby, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I thought I would tell you that she needn't be so <i>very</i>
+conspicuous; for, in fact&mdash;that is, you know, Ethel and I&mdash;she
+told you, I suppose, about our mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And I think I've persuaded her to save Minnie from being too
+conspicuous."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby gave Hawbury a look of astonishment and reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" she cried; "and Ethel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I'm sure, we're the very ones you might expect it from. Think
+how infernally we've been humbugged by fate."</p>
+
+<p>"Fate!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "It was all your own fault. She was
+chosen for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Chosen for me? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"By your mother."</p>
+
+<p>"My mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"She said one of Biggs's nieces."</p>
+
+<p>"Ethel is that niece."</p>
+
+<p>"The devil!" cried Hawbury. "I beg pardon. By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Hawbury, overwhelmed by this, went back to Ethel, and they wandered
+off once more. The Baron had already wandered off with Minnie
+<span class = "pagenum">132b</span>
+in another direction. Tozer and the priest had gone to survey the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing Mrs. Willoughby thus left alone, Dacres drifted up to her. He
+came up silently.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty," said he, in a low voice, "you seem sad."</p>
+
+<p>By which familiar address it will be seen that Dacres had made some
+progress toward intimacy with her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby did not seem at all offended at this, but looked up
+with one of her frankest smiles, and the clouds of perplexity passed
+away. She was an exceedingly pretty woman, and she was certainly not
+over twenty-four.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so worried," she said, plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Dacres, in a tone of the deepest and
+tenderest sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, these horrid men; and, what's worse, Lord Hawbury is actually
+encouraging Mr.&mdash;the&mdash;the Baron; and I'm <i>so</i> worried. Oh
+dear!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you be worried?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's so horrid. It's shocking. It's not to be thought of."</p>
+
+<p>"But why not?" asked Dacres.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's&mdash;it's so horrid," said Mrs. Willoughby.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres stood looking at her for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty," said he at last.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby looked up.</p>
+
+<p>Dacres looked all around. He then took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it too bad," he said, "to let Minnie&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"To let her go through this ordeal alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Alone!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, looking in wonder at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>do</i> you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't <i>we</i> accompany her?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Willoughby snatched away her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you mad?" she cried. "I do believe the whole world's mad
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Mad!" cried Dacres. "Yes, I'm mad&mdash;insane&mdash;raving! Won't
+you be merciful again? Won't you, Kitty? Won't you 'humor' my ravings?
+Oh, do. Oh, Kitty! dear Kitty&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's positive insanity!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Kitty!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're raving!"</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you 'humor' me&mdash;just this once! only this once."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! there they come," said Mrs. Willoughby, suddenly snatching
+away her hand, which Dacres had somehow got hold of again, and moving a
+little further away from him.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Baron and Minnie who were coming back again, while Hawbury
+and Ethel were seen a little further away.</p>
+
+<p>There they all stood&mdash;there, on the spot where they had found
+the crisis of their fortunes; and as they stood there the two clergymen,
+Catholic and Protestant, slowly came out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN BARON***</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,14032 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The American Baron, by James De Mille,
+Illustrated by William Ludwell Sheppard
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The American Baron
+
+
+Author: James De Mille
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 17, 2007  [eBook #13257]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN BARON***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Keith M. Eckrich, Curtis Weyant, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) and
+revised by Louise Hope using page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 13257-h.htm or 13257-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/2/5/13257/13257-h/13257-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/2/5/13257/13257-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/americanbaron00demiiala
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AMERICAN BARON.
+
+A Novel.
+
+by
+
+JAMES DE MILLE,
+
+Author of
+"The Dodge Club," "The Cryptogram," "Cord and Creese," &c.
+
+With Illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+"AND AS THEY STOOD THE CLERGYMEN SLOWLY CAME OUT OF THE HOUSE"
+--(SEE PAGE 132.)]
+
+
+
+NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
+FRANKLIN SQUARE.
+1872.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+By PROF. JAMES DE MILLE.
+
+     _THE DODGE CLUB_; or, Italy in 1859. Illustrated. 8vo,
+     Paper, 75 cents; Cloth, $1.25.
+
+     _CORD AND CREESE_. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, 75
+     cents; Cloth, $1.25.
+
+     _THE CRYPTOGRAM_. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, $1.50;
+     Cloth, $2.00.
+
+     _THE AMERICAN BARON_. A Novel. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper.
+
+Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
+
+_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on
+receipt of the price._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
+HARPER & BROTHERS,
+In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
+
+
+
+
+THE AMERICAN BARON.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "PARDON, MEES."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE AVALANCHE.
+
+
+Somewhat less than a hundred years ago a party of travelers might have
+been seen crossing over the Simplon Road, _en route_ for Italy. They
+had been detained at Brieg by reports that the road was impassable;
+and, as it was the month of March, the prospect of snow and storms and
+avalanches was sufficient to make them hesitate. At length the road
+had been reopened, and they were informed that the journey might be
+made on sleds.
+
+Unwilling to wait at Brieg, and equally unwilling to make a detour so
+as to take the railroad, the party decided to go on. They were
+informed that they could go on wheels as far as the line of snow, but
+that afterward their accommodations would not be so comfortable as
+they might desire. The road had been cleared for only a few feet; the
+snow was deep; the sleds were rude; and progress would be slow. These
+statements, however, did not shake the resolution of the party;
+and the end of it was that they determined to go on, and cross the
+mountain if it were possible.
+
+On leaving Brieg the road began to ascend with a very slight incline,
+winding around in an intricate sort of way, sometimes crossing deep
+gullies, at other times piercing the hillside in long dark tunnels;
+but amidst all these windings ever ascending, so that every step took
+them higher and higher above the little valley where Brieg lay. The
+party saw also that every step brought them steadily nearer to the
+line of snow; and at length they found the road covered with a thin
+white layer. Over this they rolled, and though the snow became deeper
+with every furlong of their progress, yet they encountered but little
+actual difficulty until they approached the first station where the
+horses were to be changed. Here they came to a deep drift. Through
+this a pathway had been cleared, so that there was no difficulty about
+going through; but the sight of this served to show them what might be
+expected further on, and to fill them all with grave doubts as to the
+practicability of a journey which was thus interrupted so early.
+
+On reaching the station these doubts were confirmed. They were
+informed that the road had been cleared for sleds on the preceding
+day, but that on the previous night fresh snow had fallen, and in such
+quantities that the road would have to be cleared afresh. The worst of
+it was that there was every probability of new snow-storms, which
+would cover the road still deeper, and once more obliterate the track.
+This led to a fresh debate about the journey; but they were all
+unwilling to turn back. Only a few miles separated them from Domo
+d'Ossola, and they were assured that, if no fresh snow should fall,
+they would be able to start on the following morning. This last
+assurance once more confirmed their wavering resolution, and they
+concluded to wait at the station.
+
+For the remainder of that day they waited at the little way-side inn,
+amusing themselves with looking out upon their surroundings. They were
+environed by a scene of universal white. Above them towered vast
+Alpine summits, where the wild wind blew, sweeping the snow-wreaths
+into the air. In front was a deep ravine, at the bottom of which there
+ran a torrent that foamed and tossed over rocks and boulders. It was
+not possible to take a walk to any distance. Their boots were made for
+lighter purposes than plunging through snow-drifts; and so they were
+forced to remain indoors, and pass the time as best they could.
+
+On the following morning they found every thing in readiness for a
+start. In front of the inn they saw five sleds of that kind which is
+universally used in the northern part of America. Each sled was of the
+rudest possible construction, and was drawn by one horse; straw was
+spread over the sled, upon which fur robes and blankets were flung.
+The party was distributed among these sleds, so that each one should
+have as light a load as possible, while one of the rude vehicles
+carried the luggage.
+
+Thus arranged, they all started off. And now, since they are all
+fairly under way, I propose to introduce them, individually and
+collectively, to my very good friend the reader.
+
+First of all I must mention the fact that the party consisted chiefly
+of ladies and their attendants.
+
+Of these the most prominent was a slim, tall, elderly lady, with
+large, dark, soft eyes, that spoke of a vanished youth and beauty from
+her heavily wrinkled face. She was the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, and
+acted toward the rest of the party in the multifarious capacity of
+chaperon, general, courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor.
+
+Next came Mrs. Willoughby, a widow of great beauty and fascination, a
+brunette, good-natured, clever, and shrewd. I might here pause, and go
+into no end of raptures on the various qualities of this lady's
+character; but, on the whole, I think I'd better not, as they will be
+sufficiently apparent before the end of this story is reached.
+
+Then there was Miss Minnie Fay, sister to Mrs. Willoughby, and utterly
+unlike her in every respect. Minnie was a blonde, with blue eyes,
+golden hair cut short and clustering about her little head, little bit
+of a mouth, with very red, plump lips, and very white teeth. Minnie
+was very small, and very elegant in shape, in gesture, in dress, in
+every attitude and every movement. The most striking thing about her,
+however, was the expression of her eyes and her face. There was about
+her brow the glory of perfect innocence. Her eyes had a glance of
+unfathomable melancholy, mingled with childlike trust in the
+particular person upon whom her gaze was fastened. Minnie was
+considered by all her friends as a child--was treated as a
+child--humored, petted, coaxed, indulged, and talked to as a child.
+Minnie, on her part, thought, spoke, lived, moved, and acted as a
+child. She fretted, she teased, she pouted, she cried, she did every
+thing as a child does; and thus carried up to the age of eighteen the
+bloom and charm of eight.
+
+The two sisters were nieces of the Dowager Lady Dalrymple. Another
+niece also accompanied them, who was a cousin of the two sisters. This
+was Miss Ethel Orne, a young lady who had flourished through a London
+season, and had refused any number of brilliant offers. She was a
+brunette, with most wonderful dark eyes, figure of perfect grace, and
+an expression of grave self-poise that awed the butterflies of
+fashion, but offered an irresistible attraction to people of sense,
+intellect, intelligence, esprit, and all that sort of thing--like you
+and me, my boy.
+
+I am taking up too much time and anticipating somewhat, I fear, by
+these descriptions; so let us drop Miss Ethel.
+
+These ladies being thus all related formed a family party, and had
+made the journey thus far on the best of terms, without any other
+escort than that which was afforded by their chaperon, general,
+courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor--the Dowager Lady
+Dalrymple.
+
+The party was enlarged by the presence of four maids and a foreign
+gentleman. This last-mentioned personage was small in stature, with a
+very handsome face and very brilliant eyes. His frame, though slight,
+was sinewy and well knit, and he looked like an Italian. He had come
+on alone, and had passed the night at the station-house.
+
+A track about six feet wide had been cut out through the snow, and
+over this they passed. The snow was soft, and the horses sank deep, so
+that progress was slow. Nor was the journey without the excitement of
+apparent danger. At times before them and behind them there would come
+a low, rumbling sound, and they would see a mass of snow and ice
+rushing down some neighboring slope. Some of these fell on the road,
+and more than once they had to quit their sleds and wait for the
+drivers to get them over the heaps that had been formed across their
+path. Fortunately, however, none of these came near them; and Minnie
+Fay, who at first had screamed at intervals of about five minutes,
+gradually gained confidence, and at length changed her mood so
+completely that she laughed and clapped her little hands whenever she
+saw the rush of snow and ice. Thus slowly, yet in safety, they pushed
+onward, and at length reached the little village of Simplon. Here they
+waited an hour to warm themselves, lunch, and change horses. At the
+end of that time they set out afresh, and once more they were on their
+winding way.
+
+They had now the gratification of finding that they were descending
+the slope, and of knowing that this descent took them every minute
+further from the regions of snow, and nearer to the sunny plains of
+Italy. Minnie in particular gave utterance to her delight: and now,
+having lost every particle of fear, she begged to be allowed to drive
+in the foremost sled. Ethel had been in it thus far, but she willingly
+changed places with Minnie, and thus the descent was made.
+
+The sleds and their occupants were now arranged in the following
+order:
+
+First, Minnie Fay alone with the driver.
+
+Second, Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel.
+
+Third, the Dowager and her maid.
+
+Fourth, the three other maids.
+
+Fifth, the luggage.
+
+After these five sleds, containing our party, came another with the
+foreign gentleman.
+
+Each of these sleds had a driver to itself.
+
+In this order the party went, until at length they came to the Gorge
+of Gondo. This is a narrow valley, the sides of which rise up very
+abruptly, and in some places precipitously, to a great height. At the
+bottom flows a furious torrent, which boils and foams and roars as it
+forces its impetuous way onward over fallen masses of rock and trees
+and boulders, at one time gathering into still pools, at other times
+roaring into cataracts. Their road had been cut out on the side of the
+mountain, and the path had been cleared away here many feet above the
+buried road; and as they wound along the slope they could look up at
+the stupendous heights above them, and down at the abyss beneath them,
+whose white snow-covering was marked at the bottom by the black line
+of the roaring torrent. The smooth slope of snow ran down as far as
+the eye could reach at a steep angle, filling up all crevices, with
+here and there a projecting rock or a dark clump of trees to break its
+surface.
+
+The road was far beneath them. The drivers had informed them that it
+was forty feet deep at the top of the pass, and that its depth here
+was over thirty. Long poles which were inserted in the snow projected
+above its surface, and served to mark where the road ran.
+
+Here, then, they drove along, feeling wearied with the length of the
+way, impatient at the slowness of their progress, and eager to reach
+their journey's end. But little was said. All had talked till all were
+tired out. Even Minnie Fay, who at first had evinced great enthusiasm
+on finding herself leading the way, and had kept turning back
+constantly to address remarks to her friends, had at length subsided,
+and had rolled herself up more closely in her furs, and heaped the
+straw higher about her little feet.
+
+Suddenly, before them, and above them, and behind them, and all around
+them, there arose a deep, low, dull, rushing sound, which seemed as if
+all the snow on the slope was moving. Their ears had by this time
+become sufficiently well acquainted with the peculiar sound of the
+rushing snow-masses to know that this was the noise that heralded
+their progress, and to feel sure that this was an avalanche of no
+common size. Yes, this was an avalanche, and every one heard it; but
+no one could tell where it was moving, or whether it was near or far,
+or whether it was before or behind. They only knew that it was
+somewhere along the slope which they were traversing.
+
+A warning cry came from the foremost driver. He looked back, and his
+face was as pale as death. He waved his hands above him, and then
+shouting for the others to follow, he whipped up his horse furiously.
+The animal plunged into the snow, and tossed and floundered and made a
+rush onward.
+
+But the other drivers held back, and, instead of following, shouted to
+the first driver to stop, and cried to the passengers to hold on. Not
+a cry of fear escaped from any one of the ladies. All did as they were
+directed, and grasped the stakes of their sleds, looking up at the
+slope with white lips, and expectation of horror in their eyes,
+watching for the avalanche.
+
+And down it came, a vast mass of snow and ice--down it came,
+irresistibly, tremendously, with a force that nothing could withstand.
+All eyes watched its progress in the silence of utter and helpless
+terror. It came. It struck. All the sleds in the rear escaped, but
+Minnie's sled lay in the course of the falling mass. The driver had
+madly rushed into the very midst of the danger which he sought to
+avoid. A scream from Minnie and a cry of despair from the driver burst
+upon the ears of the horrified listeners, and the sled that bore them,
+buried in the snow, went over the edge of the slope, and downward to
+the abyss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE PERILOUS DESCENT.
+
+
+The shriek of Minnie and the driver's cry of despair were both stopped
+abruptly by the rush of snow, and were smothered in the heap under
+which they were buried. The whole party stood paralyzed, gazing
+stupidly downward where the avalanche was hurrying on to the abyss,
+bearing with it the ill-fated Minnie. The descent was a slope of
+smooth snow, which went down at an angle of forty-five degrees for at
+least a thousand feet. At that point there seemed to be a precipice.
+As their aching eyes watched the falling mass they saw it approach
+this place, and then as it came near the whole avalanche seemed to
+divide as though it had been severed by some projecting rock. It
+divided thus, and went to ruin; while in the midst of the ruin they
+saw the sled, looking like a helpless boat in the midst of foaming
+breakers. So, like such a helpless boat, it was dashed forward, and
+shot out of sight over the precipice.
+
+Whither had it gone? Into what abyss had it fallen? What lay beneath
+that point over which it had been thrown? Was it the fierce torrent
+that rolled there, or were there black rocks and sharp crags lying at
+the foot of the awful precipice? Such were the questions which flashed
+through every mind, and deepened the universal horror into universal
+despair.
+
+In the midst of this general dismay Ethel was the first to speak and
+to act. She started to her feet, and looking back, called in a loud
+voice:
+
+"Go down after her! A thousand pounds to the man who saves her!
+Quick!"
+
+At this the drivers came forward. None of them could understand
+English, and so had not comprehended her offer; but they saw by her
+gestures what she wanted. They, however, did not seem inclined to act.
+They pointed down, and pointed up, and shook their heads, and jabbered
+some strange, unintelligible patois.
+
+"Cowards!" cried Ethel, "to leave a young girl to die. I will go down
+myself."
+
+And then, just as she was, she stepped from the sled, and paused for a
+moment, looking down the slope as though selecting a place. Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby screamed to her to come back, and the
+drivers surrounded her with wild gesticulations. To all this she paid
+no attention whatever, and would certainly have gone down in another
+moment had not a hand been laid on her arm, and a voice close by her
+said, with a strong foreign accent,
+
+"Mees!"
+
+She turned at once.
+
+It was the foreign gentleman who had been driving behind the party. He
+had come up and had just reached the place. He now stood before her
+with his hat in one hand and the other hand on his heart.
+
+"Pardon, mees," he said, with a bow. "Eet is too periloss. I sall go
+down eef you 'low me to mak ze attemp."
+
+"Oh, monsieur," cried Ethel, "save her if you can!"
+
+"Do not fear. Be calm. I sall go down. Nevare mine."
+
+The stranger now turned to the drivers, and spoke to them in their own
+language. They all obeyed at once. He was giving them explicit
+directions in a way that showed a perfect command of the situation. It
+now appeared that each sled had a coil of rope, which was evidently
+supplied from an apprehension of some such accident as this. Hastily
+yet dextrously the foreign gentleman took one of these coils, and then
+binding a blanket around his waist, he passed the rope around this, so
+that it would press against the blanket without cutting him. Having
+secured this tightly, he gave some further directions to the drivers,
+and then prepared to go down.
+
+Hitherto the drivers had acted in sullen submission rather than with
+ready acquiescence. They were evidently afraid of another avalanche;
+and the frequent glances which they threw at the slope above them
+plainly showed that they expected this snow to follow the example of
+the other. In spite of themselves an expression of this fear escaped
+them, and came to the ears of the foreign gentleman. He turned at once
+on the brink of the descent, and burst into a torrent of invective
+against them. The ladies could not understand him, but they could
+perceive that he was uttering threats, and that the men quailed before
+him. He did not waste any time, however. After reducing the men to a
+state of sulky submission, he turned once more and began the descent.
+
+As he went down the rope was held by the men, who allowed it to pass
+through their hands so as to steady his descent. The task before the
+adventurer was one of no common difficulty. The snow was soft, and at
+every step he sank in at least to his knees. Frequently he came to
+treacherous places, where he sank down above his waist, and was only
+able to scramble out with difficulty. But the rope sustained him; and
+as his progress was downward, he succeeded in moving with some
+rapidity toward his destination. The ladies on the height above sat in
+perfect silence, watching the progress of the man who was thus
+descending with his life in his hand to seek and to save their lost
+companion, and in the intensity of their anxiety forgot utterly about
+any danger to themselves, though from time to time there arose the
+well-known sound of sliding masses, not so far away but that under
+other circumstances of less anxiety it might have filled them with
+alarm. But now there was no alarm for themselves.
+
+And now the stranger was far down, and the coil of rope was well-nigh
+exhausted. But this had been prepared for, and the drivers fastened
+this rope to another coil, and after a time began to let out that one
+also.
+
+Farther and farther down the descent went on. They saw the stranger
+pursuing his way still with unfaltering resolution; and they sent
+after him all their hearts and all their prayers. At last he plunged
+down almost out of sight, but the next moment he emerged, and then,
+after a few leaps, they saw that he had gained the place where lay the
+ruins of the shattered avalanche. Over this he walked, sometimes
+sinking, at other times running and leaping, until at length he came
+to the precipice over which the sled had been flung.
+
+And now the suspense of the ladies became terrible. This was the
+critical moment. Already his eyes could look down upon the mystery
+that lay beneath that precipice. And what lay revealed there? Did his
+eyes encounter a spectacle of horror? Did they gaze down into the
+inaccessible depths of some hideous abyss? Did they see those jagged
+rocks, those sharp crags, those giant boulders, those roaring billows,
+which, in their imaginations, had drawn down their lost companion to
+destruction? Such conjectures were too terrible. Their breath failed
+them, and their hearts for a time almost ceased to beat as they sat
+there, overcome by such dread thoughts as these.
+
+Suddenly a cry of delight escaped Ethel. She was kneeling down beside
+Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby, with her eyes staring from her
+pallid face, when she saw the stranger turn and look up. He took off
+his hat, and waved it two or three times. Then he beckoned to the
+drivers. Then he sat down and prepared to let himself over the
+precipice. This incident inspired hope. It did more. It gave a
+moment's confidence, and the certainty that all was not lost. They
+looked at each other, and wept tears of joy. But soon that momentary
+hope vanished, and uncertainty returned. After all, what did the
+stranger's gesture mean? He might have seen her--but how? He might
+reach her, but would she be safe from harm? Could such a thing be
+hoped for? Would she not, rather, be all marred and mutilated? Dared
+they hope for any thing better? They dared not. And now they sat once
+more, as sad as before, and their short-lived gleam of hope faded
+away.
+
+They saw the stranger go over the precipice.
+
+Then he disappeared.
+
+The rope was let out for a little distance, and then stopped. Then
+more went out. Then it stopped again.
+
+The rope now lay quite loose. There was no tension.
+
+What was the meaning of this? Was he clinging to the side of the
+precipice? Impossible. It looked rather as though he had reached some
+place where he was free to move, and had no further need of descent.
+And it seemed as though the precipice might not be so deep or so
+fearful as they had supposed.
+
+In a short time their eyes were greeted by the appearance of the
+stranger above the precipice. He waved his hat again. Then he made
+some gestures, and detached the rope from his person. The drivers
+understood him as if this had been preconcerted. Two of them instantly
+unharnessed the horse from one of the sleds, while the others pulled
+up the rope which the stranger had cast off. Then the latter
+disappeared once more behind the precipice. The ladies watched now in
+deep suspense; inclining to hope, yet dreading the worst. They saw the
+drivers fasten the rope to the sled, and let it down the slope. It was
+light, and the runners were wide. It did not sink much, but slid down
+quite rapidly. Once or twice it stuck, but by jerking it back it was
+detached, and went on as before. At last it reached the precipice at a
+point not more than a hundred feet from where the stranger had last
+appeared.
+
+And now as they sat there, reduced once more to the uttermost
+extremity of suspense, they saw a sight which sent a thrill of rapture
+through their aching hearts. They saw the stranger come slowly above
+the precipice, and then stop, and stoop, and look back. Then they
+saw--oh, Heavens! who was that? Was not that her red hood--and that
+figure who thus slowly emerged from behind the edge of the precipice
+which had so long concealed her--that figure! Was it possible? Not
+dead--not mangled, but living, moving, and, yes--wonder of
+wonders--scaling a precipice! Could it be! Oh joy! Oh bliss! Oh
+revulsion from despair! The ladies trembled and shivered, and laughed
+and sobbed convulsively, and wept in one another's arms by turns.
+
+As far as they could see through the tears that dimmed their eyes,
+Minnie could not be much injured. She moved quite lightly over the
+snow, as the stranger led her toward the sled; only sinking once or
+twice, and then extricating herself even more readily than her
+companion. At last she reached the sled, and the stranger, taking off
+the blanket that he had worn under the rope, threw it over her
+shoulders.
+
+Then he signaled to the men above, and they began to pull up the sled.
+The stranger climbed up after it through the deep snow, walking behind
+it for some distance. At last he made a despairing gesture to the men,
+and sank down.
+
+The men looked bewildered, and stopped pulling.
+
+The stranger started up, and waved his hands impatiently, pointing to
+Minnie.
+
+The drivers began to pull once more at the sled, and the stranger once
+more sank exhausted in the snow.
+
+At this Ethel started up.
+
+"That noble soul!" she cried; "that generous heart! See! he is saving
+Minnie, and sitting down to die in the snow!"
+
+She sprang toward the men, and endeavored to make them do something.
+By her gestures she tried to get two of the men to pull at the sled,
+and the third man to let the fourth man down with a rope to the
+stranger. The men refused; but at the offer of her purse, which was
+well filled with gold, they consented. Two of them then pulled at the
+sled, and number four bound the rope about him, and went down, while
+number three held the rope. He went down without difficulty, and
+reached the stranger. By this time Minnie had been drawn to the top,
+and was clasped in the arms of her friends.
+
+But now the strength and the sense which had been so wonderfully
+maintained gave way utterly; and no sooner did she find herself safe
+than she fell down unconscious.
+
+They drew her to a sled, and tenderly laid her on the straw, and
+lovingly and gently they tried to restore her, and call her back to
+consciousness. But for a long time their efforts were of no avail.
+
+She lay there a picture of perfect loveliness, as beautiful as a
+dream--like some child-angel. Her hair, frosted with snow dust,
+clustered in golden curls over her fair white brow; her little hands
+were folded meekly over her breast; her sweet lips were parted, and
+disclosed the pearly teeth; the gentle eyes no longer looked forth
+with their piteous expression of mute appeal; and her hearing was deaf
+to the words of love and pity that were lavished upon her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE CHILD-ANGEL AND HER WOES.
+
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was in her room at the hotel in Milan, when the door
+opened, and Minnie came in. She looked around the room, drew a long
+breath, then locked the door, and flinging herself upon a sofa, she
+reclined there in silence for some time, looking hard at the ceiling.
+Mrs. Willoughby looked a little surprised at first; but after waiting
+a few moments for Minnie to say something, resumed her reading, which
+had been interrupted.
+
+"Kitty," said Minnie at last.
+
+"What?" said her sister, looking up.
+
+"I think you're horrid."
+
+"Why, what's the matter?"
+
+"Why, because when you see and know that I'm dying to speak to you,
+you go on reading that wretched book."
+
+"Why, Minnie darling," said Mrs. Willoughby, "how in the world was I
+to know that you wanted to speak to me?"
+
+"You _might_ have known," said Minnie, with a pout--"you saw me look
+all round, and lock the door; and you saw how worried I looked, and I
+think it a shame, and I've a great mind not to tell you any thing
+about it."
+
+"About it--what _it_?" and Mrs. Willoughby put down her book, and
+regarded her sister with some curiosity.
+
+"I've a great mind not to tell you, but I can't help it. Besides, I'm
+dying to ask your advice. I don't know what to do; and I wish I was
+dead--there!"
+
+"My poor Minnie! what _is_ the matter? You're _so_ incoherent."
+
+"Well, Kitty, it's all my accident."
+
+"Your accident!"
+
+"Yes; on the Alps, you know."
+
+"What! You haven't received any serious injury, have you?" asked Mrs.
+Willoughby, with some alarm.
+
+"Oh! I don't mean that, but I'll tell you what I mean;" and here
+Minnie got up from her reclining position, and allowed her little feet
+to touch the carpet, while she fastened her great, fond, pleading,
+piteous eyes upon her sister.
+
+"It's the Count, you know," said she.
+
+"The Count!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, somewhat dryly. "Well?"
+
+"Well--don't you know what I mean? Oh, how stupid you are!"
+
+"I really can not imagine."
+
+"Well--he--he--he pro--proposed, you know."
+
+"Proposed!" cried the other, in a voice of dismay.
+
+"Now, Kitty, if you speak in that horrid way I won't say another word.
+I'm worried too much already, and I don't want you to scold me. And I
+won't have it."
+
+"Minnie darling, I wish you would tell me something. I'm not scolding.
+I merely wish to know what you mean. Do you really mean that the Count
+has proposed to you?"
+
+"Of course that's what I mean."
+
+"What puzzles me is, how he could have got the chance. It's more than
+a week since he saved you, and we all felt deeply grateful to him. But
+saving a girl's life doesn't give a man any claim over her; and we
+don't altogether like him; and so we all have tried, in a quiet way,
+without hurting his feelings, you know, to prevent him from having any
+acquaintance with you."
+
+"Oh, I know, I know," said Minnie, briskly. "He told me all that. He
+understands that; but he doesn't care, he says, if _I_ only consent.
+He will forgive _you_, he says."
+
+Minnie's volubility was suddenly checked by catching her sister's eye
+fixed on her in new amazement.
+
+"Now you're beginning to be horrid," she cried. "Don't, don't--"
+
+"Will you have the kindness to tell me," said Mrs. Willoughby, very
+quietly, "how in the world the Count contrived to tell you all this?"
+
+"Why--why--several times."
+
+"Several times!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me where?"
+
+"Why, once at the amphitheatre. You were walking ahead, and I sat down
+to rest, and he came and joined me. He left before you came back."
+
+"He must have been following us, then."
+
+"Yes. And another time in the picture-gallery; and yesterday in a
+shop; and this morning at the Cathedral."
+
+"The Cathedral!"
+
+"Yes, Kitty. You know we all went, and Lady Dalrymple would not go up.
+So Ethel and I went up. And when we got up to the top I walked about,
+and Ethel sat down to admire the view. And, you know, I found myself
+off at a little distance, when suddenly I saw Count Girasole. And
+then, you know, he--he--proposed."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby sat silent for some time.
+
+"And what did you say to him?" she asked at length.
+
+"Why, what else could I say?"
+
+"What else than _what_?"
+
+"I don't see why you should act _so_ like a grand inquisitor, Kitty.
+You really make me feel quite nervous," said Minnie, who put her
+little rosy-tipped fingers to one of her eyes, and attempted a sob,
+which turned out a failure.
+
+"Oh, I only asked you what you told him, you know."
+
+"Well," said Minnie, gravely, "I told him, you know, that I was
+awfully grateful to him, and that I'd give any thing if I could to
+express my gratitude. And then, you know--oh, he speaks such darling
+broken English--he called me his 'mees,' and tried to make a pretty
+speech, which was so mixed with Italian that I didn't understand one
+single word. By-the-way, Kitty, isn't it odd how every body here
+speaks Italian, even the children?"
+
+"Yes, very odd; but, Minnie dear, I want to know what you told him."
+
+"Why, I told him that I didn't know, you know."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then he took my hand. Now, Kitty, you're unkind. I really _can
+not_ tell you all this."
+
+"Yes, but I only ask so as to advise you. I want to know how the case
+stands."
+
+"Well, you know, he was so urgent--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And so handsome--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And then, you know, he saved my life--didn't he, now? You must
+acknowledge that much, mustn't you?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+Minnie sighed.
+
+"So what could I say?"
+
+Minnie paused.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked troubled.
+
+"Kitty, I _wish_ you wouldn't look at me with that dreadful
+expression. You really make me feel quite frightened."
+
+"Minnie," said the other, in a serious voice, "do you really _love_
+this man?"
+
+"Love this man! why no, not particularly; but I _like_ him; that is, I
+think I do, or rather I thought I did; but really I'm so worried about
+all my troubles that I wish he had never come down after me. I don't
+see why he did, either. I didn't ask him to. I remember, now, I really
+felt quite embarrassed when I saw him. I knew there would be trouble
+about it. And I wish you would take me back home. I hate Italy. Do,
+Kitty darling. But then--"
+
+Minnie paused again.
+
+"Well, Minnie dear, we certainly must contrive some plan to shake him
+off without hurting his feelings. It can't be thought of. There are a
+hundred objections. If the worst comes to the worst we can go back, as
+you say, to England."
+
+"I know; but then," said Minnie, "that's the very thing that I can't
+do--"
+
+"Can't do what?"
+
+"Go back to England."
+
+"Back to England! Why not? I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Well, you see, Kitty, that's the very thing I came to see you about.
+This dreadful man--the Count, you know--has some wonderful way of
+finding out where I go; and he keeps all the time appearing and
+disappearing in the very strangest manner; and when I saw him on the
+roof of the Cathedral it really made me feel quite giddy. He is _so_
+determined to win me that I'm afraid to look round. He takes the
+commonest civility as encouragement. And then, you know--there it
+is--I really can't go back to England."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why there's--a--a dreadful person there," said Minnie, with an awful
+look in her eyes.
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A--person," said Minnie.
+
+"A man?"
+
+Minnie nodded. "Oh yes--of course. Really when one thinks of one's
+troubles it's enough to drive one distracted. This person is a man. I
+don't know why it is that I should be _so_ worried and _so_ distracted
+by men. I do _not_ like them, and I wish there were no such persons."
+
+"Another man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, in some surprise. "Well, Minnie,
+you certainly--"
+
+"Now don't, don't--not a word; I know all you're going to say, and I
+won't stand it;" and Minnie ran over to her sister and held her hand
+over her mouth.
+
+"I won't say a word," said Mrs. Willoughby, as soon as she had removed
+Minnie's hand; "so begin."
+
+Minnie resumed her place on the sofa, and gave a long sigh.
+
+"Well, you know, Kitty darling, it happened at Brighton last
+September. You were in Scotland then. I was with old Lady Shrewsbury,
+who is as blind as a bat--and where's the use of having a person to
+look after you when they're blind! You see, my horse ran away, and I
+think he must have gone ever so many miles, over railroad bridges and
+hedges and stone walls. I'm certain he jumped over a small cottage.
+Well, you know, when all seemed lost, suddenly there was a strong hand
+laid on the reins, and my horse was stopped. I tumbled into some
+strange gentleman's arms, and was carried into a house, where I was
+resuscitated. I returned home in the gentleman's carriage.
+
+"Now the worst of it is," said Minnie, with a piteous look, "that the
+person who stopped the horse called to inquire after me the next day.
+Lady Shrewsbury, like an old goose, was awfully civil to him; and so
+there I was! His name is Captain Kirby, and I wish there were no
+captains in the world. The life he led me! He used to call, and I had
+to go out riding with him, and old Lady Shrewsbury utterly neglected
+me; and so, you know, Kitty darling, he at last, you know, of course,
+proposed. That's what they all do, you know, when they save your life.
+Always! It's awful!"
+
+Minnie heaved a sigh, and sat apparently meditating on the enormous
+baseness of the man who saved a lady's life and then proposed; and it
+was not until Mrs. Willoughby had spoken twice that she was recalled
+to herself.
+
+"What did you tell him?" was her sister's question.
+
+"Why, what could I tell him?"
+
+"What!" cried Mrs. Willoughby; "you don't--"
+
+"Now, Kitty, I think it's very unkind in you, when I want all your
+sympathy, to be _so_ horrid."
+
+"Well, tell it your own way, Minnie dearest."
+
+Minnie sat for a time regarding vacancy with a soft, sad, and piteous
+expression in her large blue eyes; with her head also a little on one
+side, and her delicate hands gently clasped in front of her.
+
+[Illustration: "ANOTHER MAN!"]
+
+"You see, Kitty darling, he took me out riding, and--he took me to the
+place where I had met him, and then he proposed. Well, you know, I
+didn't know what to say. He was _so_ earnest, and _so_ despairing. And
+then, you know, Kitty dearest, he had saved my life, and so--"
+
+"And so?"
+
+"Well, I told him I didn't know, and was shockingly confused, and then
+we got up quite a scene. He swore that he would go to Mexico, though
+why I can't imagine; and I really wish he had; but I was frightened at
+the time, and I cried; and then he got worse, and I told him not to;
+whereupon he went into raptures, and began to call me no end of
+names--spooney names, you know; and I--oh, I did _so_ want him to
+stop!--I think I must have promised him all that he wanted; and when I
+got home I was frightened out of my poor little wits, and cried all
+night."
+
+"Poor dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, with tender sympathy.
+"What a wretch!"
+
+"No, he wasn't a wretch at all; he was awfully handsome, only, you
+know, he--was--so--_aw_fully persevering, and kept _so_ at my heels;
+but I hurried home from Brighton, and thought I had got rid of him."
+
+"And hadn't you?"
+
+"Oh dear, no," said Minnie, mournfully. "On the day after my arrival
+there came a letter; and, you know, I had to answer it; and then
+another; and so it went on--"
+
+"Oh, Minnie! why didn't you tell me before?"
+
+"How could I when you were off in that horrid Scotland? I _always_
+hated Scotland."
+
+"You might have told papa."
+
+"I couldn't. I think papa's cruel _too_. He doesn't care for me at
+all. Why didn't he find out our correspondence and intercept it, the
+way papas always do in novels? If I were _his_ papa I'd not let _him_
+be so worried."
+
+"And did he never call on you?"
+
+"Yes; he got leave of absence once, and I had a dreadful time with
+him. He was in a desperate state of mind. He was ordered off to
+Gibraltar. But I managed to comfort him; and, oh dear, Kitty dear, did
+you _ever_ try to comfort a man, and the man a total stranger?"
+
+At this innocent question Mrs. Willoughby's gravity gave way a little.
+
+Minnie frowned, and then sighed.
+
+"Well, you needn't be so unkind," said she; and then her little hand
+tried to wipe away a tear, but failed.
+
+"Did he go to Gibraltar?" asked Mrs. Willoughby at length.
+
+"Yes, he did," said Minnie, with a little asperity.
+
+"Did he write?"
+
+"Of course he wrote," in the same tone.
+
+"Well, how did it end?"
+
+"End! It didn't end at all. And it never will end. It'll go on getting
+worse and worse every day. You see he wrote, and said a lot of rubbish
+about his getting leave of absence and coming to see me. And then I
+determined to run away; and you know I begged you to take me to Italy,
+and this is the first time I've told you the real reason."
+
+"So that was the real reason?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, Minnie, my poor child," said Mrs. Willoughby, after a pause,
+"you're safe from your officer, at any rate; and as to Count Girasole,
+we must save you from him. Don't give way."
+
+"But you can't save me. They'll come after me, I know. Captain Kirby,
+the moment he finds out that I am here, will come flying after me; and
+then, oh dear! the other one will come, and the American, too, of
+course."
+
+"The what? who?" cried Mrs. Willoughby, starting up with new
+excitement. "Who's that? What did you say, Minnie? The American? What
+American?"
+
+Minnie threw a look of reproach at her sister, and her eyes fell.
+
+"You can't possibly mean that there are any more--"
+
+"There--is--_one_--more," said Minnie, in a low, faint voice, stealing
+a glance at her sister, and looking a little frightened.
+
+"One more!" repeated her sister, breathless.
+
+"Well, I didn't come here to be scolded," said Minnie, rising, "and
+I'll go. But I hoped that you'd help me; and I think you're very
+unkind; and I wouldn't treat you so."
+
+"No, no, Minnie," said Mrs. Willoughby, rising, and putting her arm
+round her sister, and drawing her back. "I had no idea of scolding. I
+never scolded any one in my life, and wouldn't speak a cross word to
+you for the world. Sit down now, Minnie darling, and tell me all. What
+about the American? I won't express any more astonishment, no matter
+what I may feel."
+
+"But you mustn't _feel_ any astonishment," insisted Minnie.
+
+"Well, darling, I won't," said her sister.
+
+Minnie gave a sigh.
+
+"It was last year, you know, in the spring. Papa and I were going out
+to Montreal, to bring you home. You remember?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby nodded, while a sad expression came over her face.
+
+"And, you remember, the steamer was wrecked."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But I never told you how my life was saved."
+
+"Why, yes, you did. Didn't papa tell all about the heroic sailor who
+swam ashore with you? how he was frantic about you, having been swept
+away by a wave from you? and how he fainted away with joy when you
+were brought to him? How can you suppose I would forget that? And then
+how papa tried to find the noble sailor to reward him."
+
+"Oh yes," said Minnie, in a despondent tone. "That's all very true;
+but he wasn't a noble sailor at all."
+
+"What!"
+
+"You see, he wasn't going to have a scene with papa, and so he kept
+out of his way. Oh dear, how I wish he'd been as considerate with me!
+But that's the way always; yes, always."
+
+"Well, who was he?"
+
+"Why, he was an American gentleman, returning home from a tour in
+Europe. He saved me, as you have heard. I really don't remember much
+about it, only there was a terrible rush of water, and a strong arm
+seized me, and I thought it was papa all the time. And I found myself
+carried, I don't know how, through the waves, and then I fainted; and
+I really don't know any thing about it except papa's story."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked at Minnie in silence, but said nothing.
+
+"And then, you know, he traveled with us, and papa thought he was one
+of the passengers, and was civil; and so he used to talk to me, and at
+last, at Montreal, he used to call on me."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"At your house, dearest."
+
+"Why, how was that?"
+
+"You could not leave your room, darling, so I used to go down."
+
+"Oh, Minnie!"
+
+"And he proposed to me there."
+
+"Where? in my parlor?"
+
+"Yes; in your parlor, dearest."
+
+"I suppose it's not necessary for me to ask what you said."
+
+"I suppose not," said Minnie, in a sweet voice. "He was so grand and
+so strong, and he never made any allusions to the wreck; and it
+was--the--the--_very first_ time that any body ever--proposed; and so,
+you know, I didn't know how to take it, and I didn't want to hurt his
+feelings, and I couldn't deny that he had saved my life; and I don't
+know when I _ever_ was so confused. It's awful, Kitty darling.
+
+"And then, you know, darling," continued Minnie, "he went away, and
+used to write regularly every month. He came to see me once, and I was
+frightened to death almost. He is going to marry me next year. He used
+an awful expression, dearest. He told me he was a struggling man.
+Isn't that horrid? What is it, Kitty? Isn't it something very, very
+dreadful?"
+
+"He writes still, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh dear, yes."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was silent for some time.
+
+"Oh, Minnie," said she at last, "what a trouble all this is! How I
+wish you had been with me all this time!"
+
+"Well, what made you go and get married?" said Minnie.
+
+"Hush," said Mrs. Willoughby, sadly, "never mind. I've made up my mind
+to one thing, and that is, I will never leave you alone with a
+gentleman, unless--"
+
+[Illustration:
+"HE BENT HIS HEAD DOWN, AND RAN HIS HAND THROUGH HIS BUSHY HAIR."]
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't want the horrid creatures," said Minnie. "And
+you needn't be so unkind. I'm sure I don't see why people will come
+always and save my life wherever I go. I don't want them to. I don't
+want to have my life saved any more. I think it's dreadful to have men
+chasing me all over the world. I'm afraid to stop in Italy, and I'm
+afraid to go back to England. Then I'm always afraid of that dreadful
+American. I suppose it's no use for me to go to the Holy Land, or
+Egypt, or Australia; for then my life would be saved by an Arab, or a
+New Zealander. And oh, Kitty, wouldn't it be dreadful to have some
+Arab proposing to me, or a Hindu! Oh, what _am_ I to do?"
+
+"Trust to me, darling. I'll get rid of Girasole. We will go to Naples.
+He has to stop at Rome; I know that. We will thus pass quietly away
+from him, without giving him any pain, and he'll soon forget all about
+it. As for the others, I'll stop this correspondence first, and then
+deal with them as they come."
+
+"You'll never do it, never!" cried Minnie; "I know you won't. You
+don't know them."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+IN THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS.
+
+
+Lord Harry Hawbury had been wandering for three months on the
+Continent, and had finally found himself in Naples. It was always a
+favorite place of his, and he had established himself in comfortable
+quarters on the Strada Nuova, from the windows of which there was a
+magnificent view of the whole bay, with Vesuvius, Capri, Baiae, and all
+the regions round about. Here an old friend had unexpectedly turned up
+in the person of Scone Dacres. Their friendship had been formed some
+five or six years before in South America, where they had made a
+hazardous journey in company across the continent, and had thus
+acquired a familiarity with one another which years of ordinary
+association would have failed to give. Scone Dacres was several years
+older than Lord Hawbury.
+
+One evening Lord Hawbury had just finished his dinner, and was
+dawdling about in a listless way, when Dacres entered, quite
+unceremoniously, and flung himself into a chair by one of the windows.
+
+"Any Bass, Hawbury?" was his only greeting, as he bent his head down,
+and ran his hand through his bushy hair.
+
+"Lachryma Christi?" asked Hawbury, in an interrogative tone.
+
+"No, thanks. That wine is a humbug. I'm beastly thirsty, and as dry as
+a cinder."
+
+Hawbury ordered the Bass, and Dacres soon was refreshing himself with
+copious draughts.
+
+The two friends presented a singular contrast. Lord Hawbury was tall
+and slim, with straight flaxen hair and flaxen whiskers, whose long,
+pendent points hung down to his shoulders. His thin face, somewhat
+pale, had an air of high refinement; and an ineradicable habit of
+lounging, together with a drawling intonation, gave him the appearance
+of being the laziest mortal alive. Dacres, on the other hand, was the
+very opposite of all this. He was as tall as Lord Hawbury, but was
+broad-shouldered and massive. He had a big head, a big mustache, and a
+thick beard. His hair was dark, and covered his head in dense, bushy
+curls. His voice was loud, his manner abrupt, and he always sat bolt
+upright.
+
+"Any thing up, Sconey?" asked Lord Hawbury, after a pause, during
+which he had been languidly gazing at his friend.
+
+"Well, no, nothing, except that I've been up Vesuvius."
+
+Lord Hawbury gave a long whistle.
+
+"And how did you find the mountain?" he asked; "lively?"
+
+"Rather so. In fact, infernally so," added Dacres, thoughtfully. "Look
+here, Hawbury, do you detect any smell of sulphur about me?"
+
+"Sulphur! What in the name of--sulphur! Why, now that you mention it,
+I _do_ notice something of a brimstone smell. Sulphur! Why, man,
+you're as strong as a lighted match. What have you been doing with
+yourself? Down inside, eh?"
+
+Dacres made no answer for some time, but sat stroking his beard with
+his left hand, while his right held a cigar which he had just taken
+out of a box at his elbow. His eyes were fixed upon a point in the sky
+exactly half-way between Capri and Baiae, and about ten degrees above
+the horizon.
+
+"Hawbury," said he, solemnly, after about two minutes of portentous
+silence.
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"I've had an adventure."
+
+"An adventure! Well, don't be bashful. Breathe forth the tale in this
+confiding ear."
+
+"You see," said Dacres, "I started off this morning for a ride, and
+had no more intention of going to Vesuvius than to Jericho."
+
+"I should hope not. What business has a fellow like you with
+Vesuvius--a fellow that has scaled Cotopaxi, and all that sort of
+thing? Not you."
+
+Dacres put the cigar thoughtfully in his mouth, struck a light, and
+tried to light it, but couldn't. Then he bit the end off, which he had
+forgotten to do before. Then he gave three long, solemn, and
+portentous puffs. Then he took the cigar between his first and second
+fingers, and stretched his hand out toward Hawbury.
+
+"Hawbury, my boy," said he again.
+
+"All right."
+
+"You remember the time when I got that bullet in Uruguay?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I had a shot to-day."
+
+"A shot! The deuce you had. Cool, too. Any of those confounded bandits
+about? I thought that was all rot."
+
+"It wasn't a real shot; only figurative."
+
+"Figurative!"
+
+"Yes; it was a--a girl."
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury, starting up from an easy posture which he
+had secured for himself after fifteen minutes shifting and changing.
+"A girl! You, Dacres, spooney! A fellow like you, and a girl! By
+Jove!"
+
+Hawbury fell back again, and appeared to be vainly trying to grapple
+with the thought. Dacres put his cigar between his lips again, and gave
+one or two puffs at it, but it had gone out. He pitched it out of the
+window, and struck his hand heavily on the arm of his chair.
+
+"Yes, Hawbury, a girl; and spooney, too--as spooney as blazes; but
+I'll swear there isn't such another girl upon the whole face of the
+earth; and when you bear in mind the fact that my observation, with
+extended view, has surveyed mankind from China to Peru, you'll be able
+to appreciate the value of my statement."
+
+"All right, old man; and now for the adventure."
+
+"The adventure? Well, you see, I started for a ride. Had a misty idea
+of going to Sorrento, and was jogging along among a million pigs or so
+at Portici, when I overtook a carriage that was going slowly along.
+There were three ladies in it. The backs of two of them were turned
+toward me, and I afterward saw that one was old--no doubt the
+chaperon--and the other was young. But the third lady, Hawbury--Well,
+it's enough to say that I, who have seen all women in all lands, have
+never seen any thing like her. She was on the front seat, with her
+face turned toward me. She was small, a perfect blonde; hair short and
+curling; a round, girlish face; dimpled cheeks, and little mouth. Her
+eyes were large and blue; and, as she looked at me, I saw such a
+bewitching innocence, such plaintive entreaty, such pathetic trust,
+such helpless, childlike--I'll be hanged if I can find words to
+express what I want to say. The English language doesn't contain
+them."
+
+"Do it in Latin, then, or else skip the whole description. All the
+same. I know the whole story by heart. Love's young dream, and all
+that sort of thing, you know."
+
+"Well," continued Dacres, "there was something so confoundedly
+bewitching in the little girl's face that I found myself keeping on at
+a slow pace in the rear of the carriage, and feasting on her looks. Of
+course I wasn't rude about it or demonstrative."
+
+"Oh, of course. No demonstration. It's nothing to ride behind a
+carriage for several hours, and 'feast' one's self on a pretty girl's
+looks! But go on, old man."
+
+"Oh, I managed it without giving offense. You see, there was such a
+beastly lot of pigs, peasants, cows, dirty children, lazaroni, and all
+that sort of thing, that it was simply impossible to go any faster; so
+you see I was compelled to ride behind. Sometimes, indeed, I fell a
+good distance back."
+
+"And then caught up again to resume the 'feast?'"
+
+"Well--yes."
+
+"But I don't see what this has to do with your going to Vesuvius."
+
+"It has every thing to do. You see, I started without any fixed
+purpose, and after I saw this carriage, I kept on insensibly after
+it."
+
+"Oh, I see--yes. By Jove!"
+
+"And they drove up as far as they could."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And I followed. You see, I had nothing else to do--and that little
+girl! Besides, it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be
+going up; and the fact that I was bent on the same errand as
+themselves was sufficient to account for my being near the carriage,
+and would prevent them from supposing that I was following them. So,
+you see, I followed, and at length they stopped at the Hermitage. I
+left my horse there, and strolled forward, without going very far
+away; my only idea was to keep the girl in sight. I had no idea that
+they would go any further. To ascend the cone seemed quite out of the
+question. I thought they would rest at the Hermitage, drink some
+Lachryma Christi, and go back. But to my surprise, as I was walking
+about, I saw the two young ladies come out and go toward the cone.
+
+"I kept out of the way, as you may suppose, and watched them,
+wondering what idea they had. As they passed I heard the younger
+one--the child-angel, you know, _my_ girl--teasing the other to make
+the ascent of the cone, and the other seemed to be quite ready to
+agree to the proposal.
+
+"Now, as far as the mere ascent is concerned, of course you know
+_that_ is not much. The guides were there with straps and chairs, and
+that sort of thing, all ready, so that there was no difficulty about
+that. The real difficulty was in these girls going off unattended; and
+I could only account for it by supposing that the chaperon knew
+nothing whatever about their proposal. No doubt the old lady was
+tired, and the young ones went out, as _she_ supposed, for a stroll;
+and now, as _they_ proposed, this stroll meant nothing less than an
+ascent of the cone. After all, there is nothing surprising in the fact
+that a couple of active and spirited girls should attempt this. From
+the Hermitage it does not seem to be at all difficult, and they had no
+idea of the actual nature of the task.
+
+"What made it worse, however, was the state of the mountain at this
+particular time. I don't know whether you have taken the trouble to
+raise your eyes so high as the top of Vesuvius--"
+
+Hawbury languidly shook his head.
+
+"Well, I supposed not; but if you had taken the trouble, you would
+have noticed an ugly cloud which is generally regarded here as
+ominous. This morning, you know, there was an unusually large canopy
+of very dirty smoke overhead. I knew by the look of things that it was
+not a very pleasant place to go to. But of course they could not be
+supposed to know any thing of the kind, and their very ignorance made
+them rash.
+
+"Well, I walked along after them, not knowing what might turn up, but
+determined to keep them in sight. Those beggars with chairs were not
+to be trusted, and the ladies had gold enough about them to tempt
+violence. What a reckless old devil of a chaperon she was, to let
+those young girls go! So I walked on, cursing all the time the
+conventionalities of civilization that prevented me from giving them
+warning. They were rushing straight on into danger, and I had to keep
+silent.
+
+"On reaching the foot of the cone a lot of fellows came up to them,
+with chairs and straps, and that sort of thing. They employed some of
+them, and, mounting the chairs, they were carried up, while I walked
+up by myself at a distance from which I could observe all that was
+going on. The girls were quite merry, appeared to be enchanted with
+their ride up the cone, enjoyed the novelty of the sensation, and I
+heard their lively chatter and their loud peals of ringing laughter,
+and longed more than ever to be able to speak to them.
+
+"Now the little girl that I had first seen--the child-angel, you
+know--seemed, to my amazement, to be more adventurous than the other.
+By her face you would suppose her to be as timid as a dove, and yet on
+this occasion she was the one who proposed the ascent, urged on her
+companion, and answered all her objections. Of course she could not
+have really been so plucky as she seemed. For my part, I believe the
+other one had more real pluck of the two, but it was the child-angel's
+ignorance that made her so bold. She went up the cone as she would
+have gone up stairs, and looked at the smoke as she would have looked
+at a rolling cloud.
+
+"At length the bearers stopped, and signified to the girls that they
+could not go any further. The girls could not speak Italian, or any
+other language apparently than English, and therefore could not very
+well make out what the bearers were trying to say, but by their
+gestures they might have known that they were warning them against
+going any further. One might have supposed that no warning would have
+been needed, and that one look upward would have been enough. The top
+of the cone rose for upward of a hundred feet above them, its soil
+composed of lava blocks and ashes intermingled with sulphur. In this
+soil there were a million cracks and crevices, from which sulphurous
+smoke was issuing; and the smoke, which was but faint and thin near
+where they stood, grew denser farther up, till it intermingled with
+the larger volumes that rolled up from the crater.
+
+"Now, as I stood there, I suddenly heard a wild proposal from the
+child-angel.
+
+"'Oh, Ethel,' she said, 'I've a great mind to go up--'"
+
+Here Hawbury interrupted his friend:
+
+"What's that? Was that her friend's name?" he asked, with some
+animation. "Ethel?--odd, too. Ethel? H'm. Ethel? Brunette, was she?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Odd, too; infernally odd. But, pooh! what rot! Just as though there
+weren't a thousand Ethels!"
+
+"What's that you're saying about Ethel?" asked Dacres.
+
+"Oh, nothing, old man. Excuse my interrupting you. Go ahead. How did
+it end?"
+
+"Well, the child-angel said, 'Ethel, I've a great mind to go up.'
+
+"This proposal Ethel scouted in horror and consternation.
+
+"'You must not--you shall not!' she cried.
+
+"'Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing,' said the child-angel. 'I'm dying to
+take a peep into the crater. It must be awfully funny. Do come; do, do
+come, Ethel darling.'
+
+"'Oh, Minnie, don't,' cried the other, in great alarm. And I now
+learned that the child-angel's name was Minnie. 'Minnie,' she cried,
+clinging to the child-angel, 'you must not go. I would not have come
+up if I had thought you would be so unreasonable.'
+
+"'Ethel,' said the other, 'you are really getting to be quite a scold.
+How ridiculous it is in you to set yourself up in this place as a
+duenna! How can I help going up? and only one peep. And I never saw a
+crater in my life, and I'm dying to know what it looks like. I know
+it's awfully funny; and it's horrid in you to be so unkind about it.
+And I really must go. Won't you come? Do, do, dear--dearest darling,
+do--do--do!'
+
+"Ethel was firm, however, and tried to dissuade the other, but to no
+purpose; for at length, with a laugh, the child-angel burst away, and
+skipped lightly up the slope toward the crater.
+
+"'Just one peep,' she said. 'Come, Ethel, I must, I really must, you
+know.'
+
+"She turned for an instant as she said this, and I saw the glory of
+her child-face as it was irradiated by a smile of exquisite sweetness.
+The play of feature, the light of her eyes, and the expression of
+innocence and ignorance unconscious of danger, filled me with profound
+sadness. And there was I, standing alone, seeing that sweet child
+flinging herself to ruin, and yet unable to prevent her, simply
+because I was bound hand and foot by the infernal restrictions of a
+miserable and a senseless conventionality. Dash it, I say!"
+
+As Dacres growled out this Hawbury elevated his eyebrows, and stroked
+his long, pendent whiskers lazily with his left hand, while with his
+right he drummed on the table near him.
+
+"Well," resumed Dacres, "the child-angel ran up for some distance,
+leaving Ethel behind. Ethel called after her for some time, and then
+began to follow her up. Meanwhile the guides, who had thus far stood
+apart, suddenly caught sight of the child-angel's figure, and, with a
+loud warning cry, they ran after her. They seemed to me, however, to
+be a lazy lot, for they scarce got up as far as the place where Ethel
+was. Now, you know, all this time I was doomed to inaction. But at
+this juncture I strolled carelessly along, pretending not to see any
+thing in particular; and so, taking up an easy attitude, I waited for
+the denouement. It was a terrible position too. That child-angel! I
+would have laid down my life for her, but I had to stand idle, and see
+her rush to fling her life away. And all because I had not happened to
+have the mere formality of an introduction."
+
+[Illustration: "I SAW HER TURN AND WAVE HER HAND IN TRIUMPH."]
+
+"Well, you know, I stood there waiting for the denouement. Now it
+happened that, as the child-angel went up, a brisk breeze had started,
+which blew away all the smoke, so that she went along for some
+distance without any apparent inconvenience. I saw her reach the top;
+I saw her turn and wave her hand in triumph. Then I saw her rush
+forward quickly and nimbly straight toward the crater. She seemed to
+go down into it. And then the wind changed or died away, or both, for
+there came a vast cloud of rolling smoke, black, cruel, suffocating;
+and the mountain crest and the child-angel were snatched from my
+sight.
+
+"I was roused by a shriek from Ethel. I saw her rush up the slope, and
+struggle in a vain endeavor to save her friend. But before she had
+taken a dozen steps down came the rolling smoke, black, wrathful, and
+sulphurous; and I saw her crouch down and stagger back, and finally
+emerge pale as death, and gasping for breath. She saw me as I stood
+there; in fact, I had moved a little nearer.
+
+"'Oh, Sir,' she cried, 'save her! Oh, my God, she's lost!'
+
+"This was very informal, you know, and all that sort of thing; but
+_she_ had broken the ice, and had accosted _me_; so I waived all
+ceremony, and considered the introduction sufficient. I took off my
+hat, and told her to calm herself.
+
+"But she only wrung her hands, and implored me to save her friend.
+
+"And now, my boy, lucky was it for me that my experience at Cotopaxi
+and Popocatepetl had been so thorough and so peculiar. My knowledge
+came into play at this time. I took my felt hat and put it over my
+mouth, and then tied it around my neck so that the felt rim came over
+my cheeks and throat. Thus I secured a plentiful supply of air, and
+the felt acted as a kind of ventilator to prevent the access to my
+lungs of too much of the sulphurous vapor. Of course such a
+contrivance would not be good for more than five minutes; but then,
+you know, five minutes were all that I wanted.
+
+"So up I rushed, and, as the slope was only about a hundred feet, I
+soon reached the top. Here I could see nothing whatever. The
+tremendous smoke-clouds rolled all about on every side, enveloping me
+in their dense folds, and shutting every thing from view. I heard the
+cry of the asses of guides, who were howling where I left them below,
+and were crying to me to come back--the infernal idiots! The smoke was
+impenetrable; so I got down on my hands and knees and groped about. I
+was on her track, and knew she could not be far away. I could not
+spend more than five minutes there, for my felt hat would not assist
+me any longer. About two minutes had already passed. Another minute
+was taken up in creeping about on my hands and knees. A half minute
+more followed. I was in despair. The child-angel I saw must have run
+in much further than I had supposed, and perhaps I could not find her
+at all. A sickening fear came to me that she had grown dizzy, or had
+slid down over the loose sand into the terrific abyss of the crater
+itself. So another half minute passed; and now only one minute was
+left."
+
+"I don't see how you managed to be so confoundedly accurate in your
+reckoning. How was it? You didn't carry your watch in one hand, and
+feel about with the other, I suppose?"
+
+"No; but I looked at my watch at intervals. But never mind that. Four
+minutes, as I said, were up, and only one minute remained, and that
+was not enough to take me back. I was at the last gasp already, and on
+the verge of despair, when suddenly, as I crawled on, there lay the
+child-angel full before me, within my reach.
+
+"Yes," continued Dacres, after a pause, "there she lay, just in my
+grasp, just at my own last gasp. One second more and it must have been
+all up. She was senseless, of course. I caught her up; I rose and ran
+back as quick as I could, bearing my precious burden. She was as light
+as a feather--no weight at all. I carried her as tenderly as if she
+was a little baby. As I emerged from the smoke Ethel rushed up to me
+and set up a cry, but I told her to keep quiet and it would be all
+right. Then I directed the guides to carry her down, and I myself then
+carried down the child-angel.
+
+"You see I wasn't going to give her up. I had had hard work enough
+getting her. Besides, the atmosphere up there was horrible. It was
+necessary, first of all, to get her down to the foot of the cone,
+where she could have pure air, and then resuscitate her. Therefore I
+directed the guides to take down Ethel in a chair, while I carried
+down the child-angel. They had to carry her down over the lava blocks,
+but I went to a part of the cone where it was all loose sand, and went
+down flying. I was at the bottom a full half hour before the others.
+
+"Then I laid her upon the loose sand; and I swear to you, Hawbury,
+never in all my life have I seen such a sight. She lay there before my
+eyes a picture of loveliness beyond imagination--as beautiful as a
+dream--more like a child-angel than ever. Her hair clustered in golden
+curls over her white brow, her little hands were folded meekly over
+her breast, her lips were parted into a sweet smile, the gentle eyes
+no longer looked at me with the piteous, pleading, trustful, innocent
+expression which I had noticed in them before, and her hearing was
+deaf to the words of love and tenderness that I lavished upon her."
+
+"Good!" muttered Hawbury; "you talk like a novel. Drive on, old man.
+I'm really beginning to feel excited."
+
+"'The fact is," said Dacres, "I have a certain set of expressions
+about the child-angel that will come whenever I begin to describe
+her."
+
+"It strikes me, though, that you are getting on pretty well. You were
+speaking of 'love and tenderness.' Well?"
+
+"Well, she lay there senseless, you know, and I gently unclasped her
+hands and began to rub them. I think the motion of carrying her, and
+the fresh air, had both produced a favorable effect; for I had not
+rubbed her hands ten minutes when she gave a low sigh. Then I rubbed
+on, and her lips moved. I bent down close so as to listen, and I heard
+her say, in a low voice,
+
+"'Am I at home?'
+
+[Illustration: "I BENT DOWN CLOSE."]
+
+"'Yes,' said I, gently, for I thought it was best to humor her
+delirious fancy.
+
+"Then she spoke again:
+
+"'Is that you, papa dear?'
+
+"'Yes, darling,' said I, in a low voice; and I kissed her in a kind of
+paternal way, so as to reassure her, and comfort her, and soothe her,
+and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+At this Hawbury burst into a shout of laughter.
+
+"What the mischief are you making that beastly row about?" growled
+Dacres.
+
+"Excuse me, old boy. I couldn't help it. It was at the idea of your
+doing the father so gravely."
+
+"Well, am I not old enough to be her father? What else could I do? She
+had such a pleading, piteous way. By Jove! Besides, how did she know
+any thing about it? It wasn't as if she was in her senses. She really
+thought I _was_ her father, you know. And I'm sure I almost felt as if
+I was, too."
+
+"All right, old man, don't get huffy. Drive on."
+
+"Well, you know, she kept her eyes closed, and didn't say another word
+till she heard the voice of Ethel at a distance. Then she opened her
+eyes, and got up on her feet. Then there was no end of a row--kissing,
+crying, congratulating, reproaching, and all that sort of thing. I
+withdrew to a respectful distance and waited. After a time they both
+came to me, and the child-angel gave me a look that made me long to be
+a father to her again. She held out her little hand, and I took it and
+pressed it, with my heart beating awfully. I was horribly embarrassed.
+
+"'I'm awfully grateful to you,' she said; 'I'm sure I'd do any thing
+in the world to repay you. I'm sure I don't know what would have
+become of me if it hadn't been for you. And I hope you'll excuse me
+for putting you to so much trouble. And, oh!' she concluded, half to
+herself, 'what _will_ Kitty say now?'"
+
+"Kitty! Who's Kitty?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"All right. Never mind. Drive on, old chap."
+
+"Well, I mumbled something or other, and then offered to go and get
+their carriage. But they would not hear of it. The child-angel said
+she could walk. This I strongly dissuaded her from doing, and Ethel
+insisted that the men should carry her. This was done, and in a short
+time we got back to the Hermitage, where the old lady was in no end of
+a worry. In the midst of the row I slipped away, and waited till the
+carriage drove off. Then I followed at a sufficient distance not to be
+observed, and saw where their house was."
+
+[Illustration: THE MEETING.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE BEGINNING OF BLUNDERS.
+
+
+Dacres paused now, and lighting a fresh cigar, smoked away at it in
+silence, with long and solemn and regular puffs. Hawbury watched him
+for some time, with a look of dreamy curiosity and lazy interest. Then
+he rose, and dawdled about the room for a few minutes. Then he lighted
+a cigar, and finally, resuming his seat, he said:
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+Dacres puffed on.
+
+"I'm beginning to think," said Hawbury, "that your first statement is
+correct. You are shot, my boy--hit hard--and all that; and now I
+should like to ask you one question."
+
+"Ask away."
+
+"What are you going to do about it? Do you intend to pursue the
+acquaintance?"
+
+"Of course. Why not?"
+
+"What do you intend to do next?"
+
+"Next? Why, call on her, and inquire after her health."
+
+"Very good."
+
+"Well, have you any thing to say against that?"
+
+"Certainly not. Only it surprises me a little."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I never thought of Scone Dacres as a marrying man, and can't
+altogether grapple with the idea."
+
+"I don't see why a fellow shouldn't marry if he wants to," said
+Dacres. "What's the matter with me that I shouldn't get married as
+well as lots of fellows?"
+
+"No reason in the world, my dear boy. Marry as many wives as you
+choose. My remark referred merely to my own idea of you, and not to
+any thing actually innate in your character. So don't get huffy at a
+fellow."
+
+Some further conversation followed, and Dacres finally took his
+departure, full of thoughts about his new acquaintance, and racking
+his brains to devise some way of securing access to her.
+
+On the following evening he made his appearance once more at Hawbury's
+rooms.
+
+"Well, old man, what's up? Any thing more about the child-angel?"
+
+"Well, a little. I've found out her name."
+
+"Ah! What is it?"
+
+"Fay. Her name is Minnie Fay."
+
+"Minnie Fay. I never heard of the name before. Who are her people?"
+
+"She is traveling with Lady Dalrymple."
+
+"The Dowager, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who are the other ladies?"
+
+"Well, I don't exactly remember."
+
+"Didn't you find out?"
+
+"Yes; I heard all their names, but I've forgotten. I know one of them
+is the child-angel's sister, and the other is her cousin. The one I
+saw with her was probably the sister."
+
+"What, the one named Ethel?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ethel--Ethel Fay. H'm," said Hawbury, in a tone of disappointment. "I
+knew it would be so. There are so many Ethels about."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I once knew a girl named Ethel, and--Well, I had a faint
+idea that it would be odd if this should be the one. But there's no
+such chance."
+
+"Oh, the name Ethel is common enough."
+
+"Well, and didn't you find out any thing about her people?"
+
+"Whose--Ethel's?"
+
+"Your child-angel's people."
+
+"No. What do I care about her people? They might be Jews or
+Patagonians for all I care."
+
+"Still I should think your interest in her would make you ask."
+
+"Oh no; my interest refers to herself, not to her relatives. Her
+sister Ethel is certainly a deuced pretty girl, though."
+
+"Sconey, my boy, I'm afraid you're getting demoralized. Why, I
+remember the time when you regarded the whole female race with a lofty
+scorn and a profound indifference that was a perpetual rebuke to more
+inflammable natures. But now what a change! Here you are, with a
+finely developed eye for female beauty, actually reveling in dreams of
+child-angels and their sisters. By Jove!"
+
+"Nonsense," said Dacres.
+
+"Well, drive on, and tell all about it. You've seen her, of course?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"Did you call?"
+
+"Yes; she was not at home. I went away with a snubbed and subdued
+feeling, and rode along near the Villa Reale, when suddenly I met the
+carriage with Lady Dalrymple and the child-angel. She knew me at once,
+and gave a little start. Then she looked awfully embarrassed. Then she
+turned to Lady Dalrymple; and by the time I had got up the carriage
+had stopped, and the ladies both looked at me and bowed. I went up,
+and they both held out their hands. Lady Dalrymple then made some
+remarks expressive of gratitude, while the child-angel sat and
+fastened her wonderful eyes on me, and threw at me such a pleading,
+touching, entreating, piteous, grateful, beseeching look, that I
+fairly collapsed.
+
+"When Lady Dalrymple stopped, she turned to her and said:
+
+"'And oh, aunty darling, did you _ever_ hear of any thing like it? It
+was _so_ brave. Wasn't it an awfully plucky thing to do, now? And I
+was really inside the crater! I'm sure _I_ never could have done such
+a thing--no, not even for my _own papa_! Oh, how I do _wish_ I could
+do something to show how _awfully_ grateful I am! And, aunty darling,
+I do _wish_ you'd tell me what to do.'
+
+"All this quite turned my head, and I couldn't say any thing; but sat
+on my saddle, devouring the little thing with my eyes, and drinking in
+the wonderful look which she threw at me. At last the carriage
+started, and the ladies, with a pleasant smile, drove on. I think I
+stood still there for about five minutes, until I was nearly run down
+by one of those beastly Neapolitan caleches loaded with twenty or
+thirty natives."
+
+"See here, old man, what a confoundedly good memory you have! You
+remember no end of a lot of things, and give all her speeches
+verbatim. What a capital newspaper reporter you'd make!"
+
+"Oh, it's only _her_ words, you know. She quickens my memory, and
+makes a different man of me."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Yes, old chap, a different man altogether."
+
+"So I say, by Jove! Head turned, eyes distorted, heart generally
+upset, circulation brought up to fever point, peace of mind gone, and
+a general mania in the place of the old self-reliance and content."
+
+"Not content, old boy; I never had much of that."
+
+"Well, we won't argue, will we? But as to the child-angel--what next?
+You'll call again?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Strike while the iron is hot, hey? Well, old man, I'll stand by you.
+Still I wish you could find out who her people are, just to satisfy a
+legitimate curiosity."
+
+"Well, I don't know the Fays, but Lady Dalrymple is her aunt; and I
+know, too, that she is a niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs."
+
+"What!" cried Hawbury, starting. "Who? Sir what?"
+
+"Sir Gilbert Biggs."
+
+"Sir Gilbert Biggs?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sir Gilbert Biggs! By Jove! Are you sure you are right? Come, now.
+Isn't there some mistake?"
+
+"Not a bit of a mistake; she's a niece of Sir Gilbert. I remember
+that, because the name is a familiar one."
+
+"Familiar!" repeated Hawbury; "I should think so. By Jove!"
+
+Hawbury here relapsed into silence, and sat with a frown on his face,
+and a puzzled expression. At times he would mutter such words as,
+"Deuced odd!" "Confounded queer!" "What a lot!" "By Jove!" while
+Dacres looked at him in some surprise.
+
+"Look here, old fellow!" said he at last. "Will you have the kindness
+to inform me what there is in the little fact I just mentioned to
+upset a man of your size, age, fighting weight, and general coolness
+of blood?"
+
+"Well, there is a deuced odd coincidence about it, that's all."
+
+"Coincidence with what?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell some other time. It's a sore subject, old fellow.
+Another time, my boy. I'll only mention now that it's the cause of my
+present absence from England. There's a bother that I don't care to
+encounter, and Sir Gilbert Biggs's nieces are at the bottom of it."
+
+"You don't mean this one, I hope?" cried Dacres, in some alarm.
+
+"Heaven forbid! By Jove! No. I hope not."
+
+"No, I hope not, by Jove!" echoed the other.
+
+"Well, old man," said Hawbury, after a fit of silence, "I suppose
+you'll push matters on now, hard and fast, and launch yourself into
+matrimony?"
+
+"Well--I--suppose--so," said Dacres, hesitatingly.
+
+"You _suppose_ so. Of course you will. Don't I know you, old chap?
+Impetuous, tenacious of purpose, iron will, one idea, and all that
+sort of thing. Of course you will; and you'll be married in a month."
+
+"Well," said Dacres, in the same hesitating way, "not so soon as that,
+I'm afraid."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why, I have to get the lady first."
+
+"The lady; oh, she seems to be willing enough, judging from your
+description. Her pleading look at you. Why, man, there was love at
+first sight. Then tumbling down the crater of a volcano, and getting
+fished out. Why, man, what woman could resist a claim like that,
+especially when it is enforced by a man like Scone Dacres? And, by
+Jove! Sconey, allow me to inform you that I've always considered you a
+most infernally handsome man; and what's more, my opinion is worth
+something, by Jove!"
+
+Hereupon Hawbury stretched his head and shoulders back, and pulled
+away with each hand at his long yellow pendent whiskers. Then he
+yawned. And then he slowly ejaculated,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well," said Dacres, thoughtfully, "there is something in what you
+say; and, to tell the truth, I think there's not a bad chance for me,
+so far as the lady herself is concerned; but the difficulty is not in
+that quarter."
+
+"Not in that quarter! Why, where the mischief else could there be any
+difficulty, man?"
+
+Dacres was silent.
+
+"You're eager enough?"
+
+Dacres nodded his head sadly.
+
+"Eager! why, eager isn't the word. You're mad, man--mad as a March
+hare! So go in and win."
+
+Dacres said nothing.
+
+"You're rich, not over old, handsome, well born, well bred, and have
+saved the lady's life by extricating her from the crater of a volcano.
+She seems too young and childlike to have had any other affairs. She's
+probably just out of school; not been into society; not come out; just
+the girl. Confound these girls, I say, that have gone through
+engagements with other fellows!"
+
+"Oh, as to that," said Dacres, "this little thing is just like a
+child, and in her very simplicity does not know what love is.
+Engagement! By Jove, I don't believe she knows the meaning of the
+word! She's perfectly fresh, artless, simple, and guileless. I don't
+believe she ever heard a word of sentiment or tenderness from any man
+in her life."
+
+"Very likely; so where's the difficulty?"
+
+"Well, to tell the truth, the difficulty is in my own affairs."
+
+"Your affairs! Odd, too. What's up? I didn't know any thing had
+happened. That's too infernal bad, too."
+
+"Oh, it's nothing of that sort; money's all right; no swindle. It's an
+affair of another character altogether."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And one, too, that makes me think that--"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"That what?"
+
+"That I'd better start for Australia."
+
+"Australia!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What's the meaning of that?"
+
+"Why," said Dacres, gloomily, "it means giving up the child-angel, and
+trying to forget her--if I ever can."
+
+"Forget her! What's the meaning of all this? Why, man, five minutes
+ago you were all on fire about her, and now you talk quietly about
+giving her up! I'm all adrift."
+
+"Well, it's a mixed up matter."
+
+"What is?"
+
+"My affair."
+
+"Your affair; something that has happened?"
+
+"Yes. It's a sore matter, and I don't care to speak about it just
+now."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And it's the real cause why I don't go back to England."
+
+"The mischief it is! Why, Dacres, I'll be hanged if you're not using
+the very words I myself used a few minutes ago."
+
+"Am I?" said Dacres, gloomily.
+
+"You certainly are; and that makes me think that our affairs are in a
+similar complication."
+
+"Oh no; mine is very peculiar."
+
+"Well, there's one thing I should like to ask, and you needn't answer
+unless you like."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Doesn't your difficulty arise from some confounded woman or other?"
+
+"Well--yes."
+
+"By Jove, I knew it! And, old fellow, I'm in the same situation."
+
+[Illustration: "BY JOVE, I KNEW IT!"]
+
+"Oh ho! So you're driven away from England by a woman?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+Dacres sighed heavily.
+
+"Yours can't be as bad as mine," said he, with a dismal look. "Mine is
+the worst scrape that ever you heard of. And look at me now, with the
+child-angel all ready to take me, and me not able to be taken.
+Confound the abominable complications of an accursed civilization, I
+say!"
+
+"And I say, Amen!" said Hawbury.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FIERY TRIAL.
+
+
+"See here, old chap," said Hawbury, "I'm going to make a clean breast
+of it."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of my affair."
+
+"That's right," said Dacres, dolefully. "I should like of all things
+to hear it."
+
+"You see I wouldn't tell you, only you yourself turn out to be in a
+similar situation, and so what I have to say may prove of use to you.
+At any rate, you may give me some useful suggestion.
+
+"Very well, then," continued Hawbury--"to begin. You may remember that
+I told you when we met here where I had been passing the time since I
+saw you last."
+
+Dacres nodded assent.
+
+"Well, about two years ago I was in Canada. I went there for sport,
+and plunged at once into the wilderness. And let me tell you it's a
+very pretty country for hunting. Lots of game--fish, flesh, and
+fowl--from the cariboo down to the smallest trout that you would care
+to hook. Glorious country; magnificent forests waiting for the
+lumberman; air that acts on you like wine, or even better; rivers and
+lakes in all directions; no end of sport and all that sort of thing,
+you know. Have you ever been in Canada?"
+
+"Only traveled through."
+
+"Well, the next time you feel inclined for high art sport we'll go
+together, and have no end of fun--that is, if you're not married and
+done for, which, of course, you will be. No matter. I was saying that
+I was in a fine country. I spent a couple of months there with two or
+three Indians, and at length started for Ottawa on my way home. The
+Indians put me on the right path, after which I dismissed them, and
+set out alone with my gun and fishing-rod.
+
+"The first day was all very well, and I slept well enough the first
+night; but on the morning of the second day I found the air full of
+smoke. However, I did not give much thought to that, for there had
+been a smoky look about the sky for a week, and the woods are always
+burning there, I believe, in one place or another. I kept on, and shot
+enough for food, and thus the second day passed. That evening the air
+was quite suffocating, and it was as hot as an oven. I struggled
+through the night, I don't know how; and then on the third day made
+another start. This third day was abominable. The atmosphere was
+beastly hot; the sky was a dull yellow, and the birds seemed to have
+all disappeared. As I went on it grew worse, but I found it was not
+because the fires were in front of me. On the contrary, they were
+behind me, and were driving on so that they were gradually approaching
+nearer. I could do my thirty miles a day even in that rough country,
+but the fires could do more. At last I came into a track that was a
+little wider than the first one. As I went on I met cattle which
+appeared stupefied. Showers of dust were in the air; the atmosphere
+was worse than ever, and I never had such difficulty in my life in
+walking along. I had to throw away my rifle and fishing-rod, and was
+just thinking of pitching my clothes after them, when suddenly I
+turned a bend in the path, and met a young girl full in the face.
+
+"By Jove! I swear I never was so astounded in my life. I hurried up to
+her, and just began to ask where I was, when she interrupted me with a
+question of the same kind. By-the-way, I forgot to say that she was on
+horseback. The poor devil of a horse seemed to have had a deuced hard
+time of it too, for he was trembling from head to foot, though whether
+that arose from fatigue or fright I don't know. Perhaps it was both.
+
+"Well, the girl was evidently very much alarmed. She was awfully pale;
+she was a monstrous pretty girl too--the prettiest by all odds I ever
+saw, and that's saying a good deal. By Jove! Well, it turned out that
+she had been stopping in the back country for a month, at a house
+somewhere up the river, with her father. Her father had gone down to
+Ottawa a week before, and was expected back on this day. She had come
+out to meet him, and had lost her way. She had been out for hours, and
+was completely bewildered. She was also frightened at the fires, which
+now seemed to be all around us. This she told me in a few words, and
+asked if I knew where the river was.
+
+"Of course I knew no more than she did, and it needed only a few words
+from me to show her that I was as much in the dark as she was. I began
+to question her, however, as to this river, for it struck me that in
+the present state of affairs a river would not be a bad thing to have
+near one. In answer to my question she said that she had come upon
+this road from the woods on the left, and therefore it was evident
+that the river lay in that direction.
+
+"I assured her that I would do whatever lay in my power; and with that
+I walked on in the direction in which I had been going, while she rode
+by my side. Some further questions as to the situation of the house
+where she had been staying showed me that it was on the banks of the
+river about fifty miles above Ottawa. By my own calculations I was
+about that distance away. It seemed to me, then, that she had got lost
+in the woods, and had wandered thus over some trail to the path where
+she had met me. Every thing served to show me that the river lay to
+the left, and so I resolved to turn in at the first path which I
+reached.
+
+"At length, after about two miles, we came to a path which went into
+the woods. My companion was sure that this was the very one by which
+she had come out, and this confirmed the impression which the sight of
+it had given me. I thought it certainly must lead toward the river. So
+we turned into this path. I went first, and she followed, and so we
+went for about a couple of miles further.
+
+"All this time the heat had been getting worse and worse. The air was
+more smoky than ever; my mouth was parched and dry. I breathed with
+difficulty, and could scarcely drag one leg after another. The lady
+was almost as much exhausted as I was, and suffered acutely, as I
+could easily see, though she uttered not a word of complaint. Her
+horse also suffered terribly, and did not seem able to bear her weight
+much longer. The poor brute trembled and staggered, and once or twice
+stopped, so that it was difficult to start him again. The road had
+gone in a winding way, but was not so crooked as I expected. I
+afterward found that she had gone by other paths until she had found
+herself in thick woods, and then on trying to retrace her way she had
+strayed into this path. If she had turned to the left on first
+reaching it, instead of to the right, the fate of each of us would
+have been different. Our meeting was no doubt the salvation of both.
+
+"There was a wooded eminence in front, which we had been steadily
+approaching for some time. At last we reached the top, and here a
+scene burst upon us which was rather startling. The hill was high
+enough to command an extensive view, and the first thing that we saw
+was a vast extent of woods and water and smoke. By-and-by we were able
+to distinguish each. The water was the river, which could be seen for
+miles. Up the river toward the left the smoke arose in great volumes,
+covering every thing; while in front of us, and immediately between us
+and the river, there was a line of smoke which showed that the fires
+had penetrated there and had intercepted us.
+
+"We stood still in bewilderment. I looked all around. To go back was
+as bad as to go forward, for there, also, a line of smoke arose which
+showed the progress of the flames. To the right there was less smoke;
+but in that direction there was only a wilderness, through which we
+could not hope to pass for any distance. The only hope was the river.
+If we could traverse the flames in that direction, so as to reach the
+water, we would be safe. In a few words I communicated my decision to
+my companion. She said nothing, but bowed her head in acquiescence.
+
+"Without delaying any longer we resumed our walk. After about a mile
+we found ourselves compelled once more to halt. The view here was
+worse than ever. The path was now as wide as an ordinary road, and
+grew wider still as it went on. It was evidently used to haul logs
+down to the river, and as it approached the bank it grew steadily
+wider; but between us and the river the woods were all burning. The
+first rush of the fire was over, and now we looked forward and saw a
+vast array of columns--the trunks of burned trees--some blackened and
+charred, others glowing red. The ground below was also glowing red,
+with blackened spaces here and there.
+
+"Still the burned tract was but a strip, and there lay our hope. The
+fire, by some strange means, had passed on a track not wider than a
+hundred yards, and this was what had to be traversed by us. The
+question was, whether we could pass through that or not. The same
+question came to both of us, and neither of us said a word. But before
+I could ask the lady about it, her horse became frightened at the
+flames. I advised her to dismount, for I knew that the poor brute
+could never be forced through those fires. She did so, and the horse,
+with a horrible snort, turned and galloped wildly away.
+
+"I now looked around once more, and saw that there was no escape
+except in front. The flames were encircling us, and a vast cloud of
+smoke surrounded us every where, rising far up and rolling overhead.
+Cinders fell in immense showers, and the fine ashes, with which the
+air was filled, choked us and got into our eyes.
+
+"'There is only one chance,' said I; 'and that is to make a dash for
+the river. Can you do it?'
+
+"'I'll try,' she said.
+
+"'We'll have to go through the fires.'
+
+"She nodded.
+
+"'Well, then,' I said, 'do as I say. Take off your sacque and wrap it
+around your head and shoulders.'
+
+"She took off her sacque at this. It was a loose robe of merino or
+alpaca, or something of that sort, and very well suited for what I
+wanted. I wrapped it round her so as to protect her face, head, and
+shoulders; and taking off my coat I did the same.
+
+"'Now,' said I, 'hold your breath as well as you can. You may keep
+your eyes shut. Give me your hand--I'll lead you.'
+
+"Taking her hand I led her forward at a rapid pace. Once she fell, but
+she quickly recovered herself, and soon we reached the edge of the
+flames.
+
+"I tell you what it is, my boy, the heat was terrific, and the sight
+was more so. The river was not more than a hundred yards away, but
+between us and it there lay what seemed as bad as the burning fiery
+furnace of Messrs. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. If I were now
+standing there, I don't think I could face it. But then I was with the
+girl; I had to save her. Fire was behind us, racing after us; water
+lay in front. Once there and we were safe. It was not a time to dawdle
+or hesitate, I can assure you.
+
+"'Now,' said I, 'run for your life!'
+
+"Grasping her hand more firmly, I started off with her at the full
+run. The place was terrible, and grew worse at every step. The road
+here was about fifty feet wide. On each side was the burning forest,
+with a row of burned trees like fiery columns, and the moss and
+underbrush still glowing beneath. To pass through that was a thing
+that it don't do to look back upon. The air was intolerable. I wrapped
+my coat tighter over my head; my arms were thus exposed, and I felt
+the heat on my hands. But that was nothing to the torments that I
+endured from trying to breathe. Besides this, the enormous effort of
+keeping up a run made breathing all the more difficult. A feeling of
+despair came over me. Already we had gone half the distance, but at
+that moment the space seemed lengthened out interminably, and I looked
+in horror at the rest of the way, with a feeling of the utter
+impossibility of traversing it.
+
+[Illustration: THE FIERY TRIAL.]
+
+"Suddenly the lady fell headlong. I stopped and raised her up. My coat
+fell off; I felt the fiery air all round my face and head. I called
+and screamed to the lady as I tried to raise her up; but she said
+nothing. She was as lifeless as a stone.
+
+"Well, my boy, I thought it was all up with me; but I, at least, could
+stand, though I did not think that I could take another breath. As for
+the lady, there was no help for it; so I grasped her with all my
+strength, still keeping her head covered as well as I could, and slung
+her over my shoulders. Then away I ran. I don't remember much after
+that. I must have lost my senses then, and, what is more, I must have
+accomplished the rest of the journey in that semi-unconscious state.
+
+"What I do remember is this--a wild plunge into the water; and the
+delicious coolness that I felt all around restored me, and I at once
+comprehended all. The lady was by my side; the shock and the cool
+water had restored her also. She was standing up to her shoulders just
+where she had fallen, and was panting and sobbing. I spoke a few words
+of good cheer, and then looked around for some place of refuge. Just
+where we stood there was nothing but fire and desolation, and it was
+necessary to go further away. Well, some distance out, about half-way
+across the river, I saw a little island, with rocky sides, and trees
+on the top. It looked safe and cool and inviting. I determined to try
+to get there. Some deals were in the water by the bank, which had
+probably floated down from some saw-mill. I took half a dozen of
+these, flung two or three more on top of them, and then told the lady
+my plan. It was to float out to the island by means of this raft. I
+offered to put her on it and let her float; but she refused,
+preferring to be in the water.
+
+"The river was pretty wide here, and the water was shallow, so that we
+were able to wade for a long distance, pushing the raft before us. At
+length it became deep, and then the lady held on while I floated and
+tried to direct the raft toward the island. I had managed while wading
+to guide the raft up the stream, so that when we got into deep water
+the current carried us toward the island. At length we reached it
+without much difficulty, and then, utterly worn out, I fell down on
+the grass, and either fainted away or fell asleep.
+
+"When I revived I had several very queer sensations. The first thing
+that I noticed was that I hadn't any whiskers."
+
+"What! no whiskers?"
+
+"No--all gone; and my eyebrows and mustache, and every wisp of hair
+from my head."
+
+"See here, old fellow, do you mean to say that you've only taken one
+year to grow those infernally long whiskers that you have now?"
+
+"It's a fact, my boy!"
+
+"I wouldn't have believed it; but some fellows can do such
+extraordinary things. But drive on."
+
+"Well, the next thing I noticed was that it was as smoky as ever. Then
+I jumped up and looked around. I felt quite dry, though it seemed as
+if I had just come from the river. As I jumped up and turned I saw my
+friend. She looked much better than she had. Her clothes also were
+quite dry. She greeted me with a mournful smile, and rose up from the
+trunk of a tree where she had been sitting, and made inquiries after
+my health with the most earnest and tender sympathy.
+
+"I told her I was all right, laughed about my hair, and inquired very
+anxiously how she was. She assured me that she was as well as ever.
+Some conversation followed; and then, to my amazement, I found that I
+had slept for an immense time, or had been unconscious, whichever it
+was, and that the adventure had taken place on the preceding day. It
+was now about the middle of the next day. You may imagine how
+confounded I was at that.
+
+[Illustration:
+"ALL GONE; MY EYEBROWS, AND MUSTACHE, AND EVERY WISP OF
+HAIR FROM MY HEAD."]
+
+"The air was still abominably close and smoky; so I looked about the
+island, and found a huge crevice in the rocks, which was almost a
+cave. It was close by the water, and was far cooler than outside. In
+fact, it was rather comfortable than otherwise. Here we took refuge,
+and talked over our situation. As far as we could see, the whole
+country was burned up. A vast cloud of smoke hung over all. One
+comfort was that the glow had ceased on the river-bank, and only a
+blackened forest now remained, with giant trees arising, all blasted.
+We found that our stay would be a protracted one.
+
+"The first thing that I thought of was food. Fortunately I had my
+hooks and lines; so I cut a pole, and fastening my line to it, I
+succeeded in catching a few fish.
+
+"We lived there for two days on fish in that manner. The lady was sad
+and anxious. I tried to cheer her up. Her chief trouble was the fear
+that her father was lost. In the course of our conversations I found
+out that her name was Ethel Orne."
+
+"Ethel Orne?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Don't think I ever heard the name before. Orne? No, I'm sure I
+haven't. It isn't Horn?"
+
+"No; Orne--O R N E. Oh, there's no trouble about that.
+
+"Well, I rather enjoyed this island life, but she was awfully
+melancholy; so I hit upon a plan for getting away. I went to the shore
+and collected a lot of the deals that I mentioned, and made a very
+decent sort of raft. I found a pole to guide it with, cut a lot of
+brush for Ethel, and then we started, and floated down the river. We
+didn't have any accidents. The only bother was that she was too
+confoundedly anxious about me, and wouldn't let me work. We went
+ashore every evening. We caught fish enough to eat. We were afloat
+three days, and, naturally enough, became very well acquainted."
+
+Hawbury stopped, and sighed.
+
+"I tell you what it is, Dacres," said he, "there never lived a nobler,
+more generous, and at the same time a braver soul than Ethel Orne. She
+never said a word about gratitude and all that, but there was a
+certain quiet look of devotion about her that gives me a deuced queer
+feeling now when I think of it all."
+
+"And I dare say--But no matter."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, I was only going to remark that, under the circumstances, there
+might have been a good deal of quiet devotion about you."
+
+Hawbury made no reply, but sat silent for a time.
+
+"Well, go on, man; don't keep me in suspense."
+
+"Let me see--where was I? Oh! floating on the raft. Well, we floated
+that way, as I said, for three days, and at the end of that time we
+reached a settlement. Here we found a steamer, and went on further,
+and finally reached Ottawa. Here she went to the house of a friend. I
+called on her as soon as possible, and found her in fearful anxiety.
+She had learned that her father had gone up with a Mr. Willoughby, and
+neither had been heard from.
+
+"Startled at this intelligence, I instituted a search myself. I could
+not find out any thing, but only that there was good reason to believe
+that both of the unhappy gentlemen had perished. On returning to the
+house to call on Ethel, about a week after, I found that she had
+received full confirmation of this dreadful intelligence, and had gone
+to Montreal. It seems that Willoughby's wife was a relative of
+Ethel's, and she had gone to stay with her. I longed to see her, but
+of course I could not intrude upon her in her grief; and so I wrote to
+her, expressing all the condolence I could. I told her that I was
+going to Europe, but would return in the following year. I couldn't
+say any more than that, you know. It wasn't a time for sentiment, of
+course.
+
+"Well, I received a short note in reply. She said she would look
+forward to seeing me again with pleasure, and all that; and that she
+could never forget the days we had spent together.
+
+"So off I went, and in the following year I returned. But on reaching
+Montreal, what was my disgust, on calling at Mrs. Willoughby's, to
+find that she had given up her house, sold her furniture, and left the
+city. No one knew any thing about her, and they said that she had only
+come to the city a few months before her bereavement, and after that
+had never made any acquaintances. Some said she had gone to the United
+States; others thought she had gone to Quebec; others to England; but
+no one knew any thing more."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A STARTLING REVELATION.
+
+
+"It seems to me, Hawbury," said Dacres, after a period of thoughtful
+silence--"it seems to me that when you talk of people having their
+heads turned, you yourself comprehend the full meaning of that
+sensation?"
+
+"Somewhat."
+
+"You knocked under at once, of course, to your Ethel?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And feel the same way toward her yet?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Hit hard?"
+
+"Yes; and that's what I'm coming to. The fact is, my whole business in
+life for the last year has been to find her out."
+
+"You haven't dawdled so much, then, as people suppose?"
+
+"No; that's all very well to throw people off a fellow's scent; but
+you know me well enough, Dacres; and we didn't dawdle much in South
+America, did we?"
+
+"That's true, my boy; but as to this lady, what is it that makes it so
+hard for you to find her? In the first place, is she an American?"
+
+"Oh no."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, accent, manner, tone, idiom, and a hundred other things. Why, of
+course, you know as well as I that an American lady is as different
+from an English as a French or a German lady is. They may be all
+equally ladies, but each nation has its own peculiarities."
+
+"Is she Canadian?"
+
+"Possibly. It is not always easy to tell a Canadian lady from an
+English. They imitate us out there a good deal. I could tell in the
+majority of cases, but there are many who can not be distinguished
+from us very easily. And Ethel may be one."
+
+"Why mayn't she be English?"
+
+"She may be. It's impossible to perceive any difference."
+
+"Have you ever made any inquiries about her in England?"
+
+"No; I've not been in England much, and from the way she talked to me
+I concluded that her home was in Canada."
+
+"Was her father an Englishman?"
+
+"I really don't know."
+
+"Couldn't you find out?"
+
+"No. You see he had but recently moved to Montreal, like Willoughby;
+and I could not find any people who were acquainted with him."
+
+"He may have been English all the time."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she too."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"And she may be in England now."
+
+Hawbury started to his feet, and stared in silence at his friend for
+several minutes.
+
+"By Jove!" he cried; "if I thought that, I swear I'd start for home
+this evening, and hunt about every where for the representatives of
+the Orne family. But no--surely it can't be possible."
+
+"Were you in London last season?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, how do you know but that she was there?"
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"And the belle of the season, too?"
+
+"She would be if she were there, by Jove!"
+
+"Yes, if there wasn't another present that I wot of."
+
+"Well, we won't argue about that; besides, I haven't come to the point
+yet."
+
+"The point?"
+
+"Yes, the real reason why I'm here, when I'm wanted home."
+
+"The real reason? Why, haven't you been telling it to me all along?"
+
+"Well, no; I haven't got to the point yet."
+
+"Drive on, then, old man."
+
+"Well, you know," continued Hawbury, "after hunting all through Canada
+I gave up in despair, and concluded that Ethel was lost to me, at
+least for the present. That was only about six or seven months ago. So
+I went home, and spent a month in a shooting-box on the Highlands;
+then I went to Ireland to visit a friend; and then to London. While
+there I got a long letter from my mother. The good soul was convinced
+that I was wasting my life; she urged me to settle down, and finally
+informed me that she had selected a wife for me. Now I want you to
+understand, old boy, that I fully appreciated my mother's motives. She
+was quite right, I dare say, about my wasting my life; quite right,
+too, about the benefit of settling down; and she was also very kind to
+take all the trouble of selecting a wife off my hands. Under other
+circumstances I dare say I should have thought the matter over, and
+perhaps I should have been induced even to go so far as to survey the
+lady from a distance, and argue the point with my mother pro and con.
+But the fact is, the thing was distasteful, and wouldn't bear thinking
+about, much less arguing. I was too lazy to go and explain the matter,
+and writing was not my forte. Besides, I didn't want to thwart my
+mother in her plans, or hurt her feelings; and so the long and the
+short of it is, I solved the difficulty and cut the knot by crossing
+quietly over to Norway. I wrote a short note to my mother, making no
+allusion to her project, and since then I've been gradually working my
+way down to the bottom of the map of Europe, and here I am."
+
+"You didn't see the lady, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Who was she?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Don't know the lady?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Odd, too! Haven't you any idea? Surely her name was mentioned?"
+
+"No; my mother wrote in a roundabout style, so as to feel her way. She
+knew me, and feared that I might take a prejudice against the lady. No
+doubt I should have done so. She only alluded to her in a general
+way."
+
+"A general way?"
+
+"Yes; that is, you know, she mentioned the fact that the lady was a
+niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs."
+
+"What!" cried Dacres, with a start.
+
+"A niece of Sir Gilbert Biggs," repeated Hawbury.
+
+"A niece--of--Sir Gilbert Biggs?" said Dacres, slowly. "Good Lord!"
+
+"Yes; and what of that?"
+
+"Very much. Don't you know that Minnie Fay is a niece of Sir Gilbert
+Biggs?"
+
+"By Jove! So she is. I remember being startled when you told me that,
+and for a moment an odd fancy came to me. I wondered whether your
+child-angel might not be the identical being about whom my poor dear
+mother went into such raptures. Good Lord! what a joke! By Jove!"
+
+"A joke!" growled Dacres. "I don't see any joke in it. I remember when
+you said that Biggs's nieces were at the bottom of your troubles, I
+asked whether it might be this one."
+
+"So you did, old chap; and I replied that I hoped not. So you need not
+shake your gory locks at me, my boy."
+
+"But I don't like the looks of it."
+
+"Neither do I."
+
+"Yes, but you see it looks as though she had been already set apart
+for you especially."
+
+"And pray, old man, what difference can that make, when I don't set
+myself apart for any thing of the kind?"
+
+Dacres sat in silence with a gloomy frown over his brow.
+
+"Besides, are you aware, my boy, of the solemn fact that Biggs's
+nieces are legion?" said Hawbury. "The man himself is an infernal old
+bloke; and as to his nieces--heavens and earth!--old! old as
+Methuselah; and as to this one, she must be a grandniece--a second
+generation. She's not a true, full-blooded niece. Now the lady I refer
+to was one of the original Biggs's nieces. There's no mistake whatever
+about that, for I have it in black and white, under my mother's own
+hand."
+
+"Oh, she would select the best of them for you."
+
+"No, she wouldn't. How do you know that?"
+
+"There's no doubt about that."
+
+"It depends upon what you mean by the best. The one _you_ call the
+best might not seem so to _her_, and so on. Now I dare say she's
+picked out for me a great, raw-boned, redheaded niece, with a nose
+like a horse. And she expects me to marry a woman like that! with a
+pace like a horse! Good Lord!"
+
+And Hawbury leaned back, lost in the immensity of that one
+overwhelming idea.
+
+"Besides," said he, standing up, "I don't care if she was the angel
+Gabriel. I don't want any of Biggs's nieces. I won't have them. By
+Jove! And am I to be entrapped into a plan like that? I want Ethel.
+And what's more, I will have her, or go without. The child-angel may
+be the very identical one that my mother selected, and if you assert
+that she is, I'll be hanged if I'll argue the point. I only say this,
+that it doesn't alter my position in the slightest degree. I don't
+want her. I won't have her. I don't want to see her. I don't care if
+the whole of Biggs's nieces, in solemn conclave, with old Biggs at
+their head, had formally discussed the whole matter, and finally
+resolved unanimously that she should be mine. Good Lord, man! don't
+you understand how it is? What the mischief do I care about any body?
+Do you think I went through that fiery furnace for nothing? And what
+do you suppose that life on the island meant? Is all that nothing? Did
+you ever live on an island with the child-angel? Did you ever make a
+raft for her and fly? Did you ever float down a river current between
+banks burned black by raging fires, feeding her, soothing her,
+comforting her, and all the while feeling in a general fever about
+her? You hauled her out of a crater, did you? By Jove! And what of
+that? Why, that furnace that I pulled Ethel out of was worse than a
+hundred of your craters. And yet, after all that, you think that I
+could be swayed by the miserable schemes of a lot of Biggs's nieces!
+And you scowl at a fellow, and get huffy and jealous. By Jove!"
+
+After this speech, which was delivered with unusual animation, Hawbury
+lighted a cigar, which he puffed at most energetically.
+
+"All right, old boy," said Dacres. "A fellow's apt to judge others by
+himself, you know. Don't make any more set speeches, though. I begin
+to understand your position. Besides, after all--"
+
+Dacres paused, and the dark frown that was on his brow grew still
+darker.
+
+"After all what?" asked Hawbury, who now began to perceive that
+another feeling besides jealousy was the cause of his friend's gloomy
+melancholy.
+
+"Well, after all, you know, old fellow, I fear I'll have to give her
+up."
+
+"Give her up?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's what you said before, and you mentioned Australia, and that
+rot."
+
+"The more I think of it," said Dacres, dismally, and regarding the
+opposite wall with a steady yet mournful stare--"the more I think of
+it, the more I see that there's no such happiness in store for me."
+
+"Pooh, man! what is it all about? This is the secret that you spoke
+about, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; and it's enough to put a barrier between me and her. Was I
+jealous? Did I seem huffy? What an idiot I must have been! Why, old
+man, I can't do any thing or say any thing."
+
+"The man's mad," said Hawbury, addressing himself to a carved
+tobacco-box on the table.
+
+"Mad? Yes, I was mad enough in ever letting myself be overpowered by
+this bright dream. Here have I been giving myself up to a phantom--an
+empty illusion--and now it's all over. My eyes are open."
+
+"You may as well open my eyes too; for I'll be hanged if I can see my
+way through this!"
+
+"Strange! strange! strange!" continued Dacres, in a kind of soliloquy,
+not noticing Hawbury's words. "How a man will sometimes forget
+realities, and give himself up to dreams! It was my dream of the
+child-angel that so turned my brain. I must see her no more."
+
+"Very well, old boy," said Hawbury. "Now speak Chinese a little for
+variety. I'll understand you quite as well. I will, by Jove!"
+
+"And then, for a fellow that's had an experience like mine--before and
+since," continued Dacres, still speaking in the tone of one who was
+meditating aloud--"to allow such an idea even for a moment to take
+shape in his brain! What an utter, unmitigated, unmanageable, and
+unimprovable idiot, ass, dolt, and blockhead! Confound such a man! I
+say; confound him!"
+
+[Illustration: "CONFOUND SUCH A MAN! I SAY."]
+
+And as Dacres said this he brought his fist down upon the table near
+him with such an energetic crash that a wine-flask was sent spinning
+on the floor, where its ruby contents splashed out in a pool,
+intermingled with fragments of glass.
+
+Dacres was startled by the crash, and looked at it for a while in
+silence. Then he raised his head and looked at his friend. Hawbury
+encountered his glance without any expression. He merely sat and
+smoked and passed his fingers through his pendent whiskers.
+
+"Excuse me," said Dacres, abruptly.
+
+"Certainly, my dear boy, a thousand times; only I hope you will allow
+me to remark that your style is altogether a new one, and during the
+whole course of our acquaintance I do not remember seeing it before.
+You have a melodramatic way that is overpowering. Still I don't see
+why you should swear at yourself in a place like Naples, where there
+are so many other things to swear at. It's a waste of human energy,
+and I don't understand it. We usedn't to indulge in soliloquies in
+South America, used we?"
+
+[Illustration: "HAWBURY SANK BACK IN HIS SEAT, OVERWHELMED."]
+
+"No, by Jove! And look here, old chap, you'll overlook this little
+outburst, won't you? In South America I was always cool, and you did
+the hard swearing, my boy. I'll be cool again; and what's more, I'll
+get back to South America again as soon as I can. Once on the pampas,
+and I'll be a man again. I tell you what it is, I'll start to-morrow.
+What do you say? Come."
+
+"Oh no," said Hawbury, coolly; "I can't do that. I have business, you
+know."
+
+"Business?"
+
+"Oh yes, you know--Ethel, you know."
+
+"By Jove! so you have. That alters the matter."
+
+"But in any case I wouldn't go, nor would you. I still am quite unable
+to understand you. Why you should grow desperate, and swear at
+yourself, and then propose South America, is quite beyond me. Above
+all, I don't yet see any reason why you should give up your
+child-angel. You were all raptures but a short time since. Why are you
+so cold now?"
+
+"I'll tell you," said Dacres.
+
+"So you said ever so long ago."
+
+"It's a sore subject, and difficult to speak about."
+
+"Well, old man, I'm sorry for you; and don't speak about it at all if
+it gives you pain."
+
+"Oh, I'll make a clean breast of it. You've told your affair, and I'll
+tell mine. I dare say I'll feel all the better for it."
+
+"Drive on, then, old man."
+
+Dacres rose, took a couple of glasses of beer in quick succession,
+then resumed his seat, then picked out a cigar from the box with
+unusual fastidiousness, then drew a match, then lighted the cigar,
+then sent out a dozen heavy volumes of smoke, which encircled him so
+completely that he became quite concealed from Hawbury's view. But
+even this cloud did not seem sufficient to correspond with the gloom
+of his soul. Other clouds rolled forth, and still others, until all
+their congregated folds encircled him, and in the midst there was a
+dim vision of a big head, whose stiff, high, curling, crisp hair, and
+massive brow, and dense beard, seemed like some living manifestation
+of cloud-compelling Jove.
+
+For some time there was silence, and Hawbury said nothing, but waited
+for his friend to speak.
+
+At last a voice was heard--deep, solemn, awful, portentous, ominous,
+sorrow-laden, weird, mysterious, prophetic, obscure, gloomy, doleful,
+dismal, and apocalyptic.
+
+"_Hawbury!_"
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"HAWBURY!"
+
+"All right."
+
+"Are you listening?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"_Well--I'm--married!_"
+
+Hawbury sprang to his feet as though he had been shot.
+
+"What!" he cried.
+
+"_I'm married!_"
+
+"You're what? Married? _You! married!_ Scone Dacres! not you--not
+_married?_"
+
+"_I'm married!_"
+
+"Good Lord!"
+
+"_I'm married_!"
+
+Hawbury sank back in his seat, overwhelmed by the force of this sudden
+and tremendous revelation. For some time there was a deep silence.
+Both were smoking. The clouds rolled forth from the lips of each, and
+curled over their heads, and twined in voluminous folds, and gathered
+over them in dark, impenetrable masses. Even so rested the clouds of
+doubt, of darkness, and of gloom over the soul of each, and those
+which were visible to the eye seemed to typify, symbolize,
+characterize, and body forth the darker clouds that overshadowed the
+mind.
+
+"_I'm married_!" repeated Dacres, who now seemed to have become like
+Poe's raven, and all his words one melancholy burden bore.
+
+"You were not married when I was last with you?" said Hawbury at last,
+in the tone of one who was recovering from a fainting fit.
+
+"Yes, I was."
+
+"Not in South America?"
+
+"Yes, in South America."
+
+"Married?"
+
+"Yes, married."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Yes; and what's more, I've been married for ten years."
+
+"Ten years! Good Lord!"
+
+"It's true."
+
+"Why, how old could you have been when you got married?"
+
+"A miserable, ignorant, inexperienced dolt, idiot, and brat of a boy."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, the secret's out; and now, if you care to hear, I will tell you
+all about it."
+
+"I'm dying to hear, dear boy; so go on."
+
+And at this Scone Dacres began his story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A MAD WIFE.
+
+
+"I'll tell you all about it," said Scone Dacres; "but don't laugh, for
+matters like these are not to be trifled with, and I may take
+offense."
+
+"Oh, bother, as if I ever laugh at any thing serious! By Jove! no. You
+don't know me, old chap."
+
+"All right, then. Well, to begin. This wife that I speak of happened
+to me very suddenly. I was only a boy, just out of Oxford, and just
+into my fortune. I was on my way to Paris--my first visit--and was
+full of no end of projects for enjoyment. I went from Dover, and in
+the steamer there was the most infernally pretty girl. Black,
+mischievous eyes, with the devil's light in them; hair curly, crispy,
+frisky, luxuriant, all tossing over her head and shoulders, and an
+awfully enticing manner. A portly old bloke was with her--her father,
+I afterward learned. Somehow my hat blew off. She laughed. I laughed.
+Our eyes met. I made a merry remark. She laughed again; and there we
+were, introduced. She gave me a little felt hat of her own. I fastened
+it on in triumph with a bit of string, and wore it all the rest of the
+way.
+
+"Well, you understand it all. Of course, by the time we got to Calais,
+I was head over heels in love, and so was she, for that matter. The
+old man was a jolly old John Bull of a man. I don't believe he had the
+slightest approach to any designs on me. He didn't know any thing
+about me, so how could he? He was jolly, and when we got to Calais he
+was convivial. I attached myself to the two, and had a glorious time.
+Before three days I had exchanged vows of eternal fidelity with the
+lady, and all that, and had gained her consent to marry me on reaching
+England. As to the old man there was no trouble at all. He made no
+inquiries about my means, but wrung my hand heartily, and said God
+bless me. Besides, there were no friends of my own to consider. My
+parents were dead, and I had no relations nearer than cousins, for
+whom I didn't care a pin.
+
+"My wife lived at Exeter, and belonged to rather common people; but,
+of course, I didn't care for that. Her own manners and style were
+refined enough. She had been sent by her father to a very fashionable
+boarding-school, where she had been run through the same mould as that
+in which her superiors had been formed, and so she might have passed
+muster any where. Her father was awfully fond of her, and proud of
+her. She tyrannized over him completely. I soon found out that she had
+been utterly spoiled by his excessive indulgence, and that she was the
+most whimsical, nonsensical, headstrong, little spoiled beauty that
+ever lived. But, of course, all that, instead of deterring me, only
+increased the fascination which she exercised, and made me more madly
+in love than ever.
+
+"Her name was not a particularly attractive one; but what are names!
+It was Arethusa Wiggins. Now the old man always called her "Arry,"
+which sounded like the vulgar pronunciation of "Harry." Of course I
+couldn't call her that, and Arethusa was too infernally long, for a
+fellow doesn't want to be all day in pronouncing his wife's name.
+Besides, it isn't a bad name in itself, of course; it's poetic,
+classic, and does to name a ship of war, but isn't quite the thing for
+one's home and hearth.
+
+"After our marriage we spent the honeymoon in Switzerland, and then
+came home. I had a very nice estate, and have it yet. You've never
+heard of Dacres Grange, perhaps--well, there's where we began life,
+and a devil of a life she began to lead me. It was all very well at
+first. During the honey-moon there were only a few outbursts, and
+after we came to the Grange she repressed herself for about a
+fortnight; but finally she broke out in the most furious fashion; and
+I began to find that she had a devil of a temper, and in her fits she
+was but a small remove from a mad woman. You see she had been humored
+and indulged and petted and coddled by her old fool of a father, until
+at last she had grown to be the most whimsical, conceited, tetchy,
+suspicious, imperious, domineering, selfish, cruel, hard-hearted, and
+malignant young vixen that ever lived; yet this evil nature dwelt in a
+form as beautiful as ever lived. She was a beautiful demon, and I soon
+found it out.
+
+"It began out of nothing at all. I had been her adoring slave for
+three weeks, until I began to be conscious of the most abominable
+tyranny on her part. I began to resist this, and we were on the verge
+of an outbreak when we arrived at the Grange. The sight of the old
+hall appeased her for a time, but finally the novelty wore off, and
+her evil passions burst out. Naturally enough, my first blind
+adoration passed away, and I began to take my proper position toward
+her; that is to say, I undertook to give her some advice, which she
+very sorely needed. This was the signal for a most furious outbreak.
+What was worse, her outbreak took place before the servants. Of course
+I could do nothing under such circumstances, so I left the room. When
+I saw her again she was sullen and vicious. I attempted a
+reconciliation, and kneeling down I passed my arms caressingly around
+her. 'Look here,' said I, 'my own poor little darling, if I've done
+wrong, I'm sorry, and--'
+
+"Well, what do you think my lady did?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"She _kicked me_! that's all; she kicked me, just as I was apologizing
+to her--just as I was trying to make it up. She kicked me! when I had
+done nothing, and she alone had been to blame. What's more, her boots
+were rather heavy, and that kick made itself felt unmistakably.
+
+"I at once arose, and left her without a word. I did not speak to her
+then for some time. I used to pass her in the house without looking at
+her. This galled her terribly. She made the house too hot for the
+servants, and I used to hear her all day long scolding them in a loud
+shrill voice, till the sound of that voice became horrible to me.
+
+"You must not suppose, however, that I became alienated all at once.
+That was impossible. I loved her very dearly. After she had kicked me
+away my love still lasted. It was a galling thought to a man like me
+that she, a common girl, the daughter of a small tradesman, should
+have kicked me; me, the descendant of Crusaders, by Jove! and of the
+best blood in England; but after a while pride gave way to love, and I
+tried to open the way for a reconciliation once or twice. I attempted
+to address her in her calmer moods, but it was without any success.
+She would not answer me at all. If servants were in the room she would
+at once proceed to give orders to them, just as though I had not
+spoken. She showed a horrible malignancy in trying to dismiss the
+older servants, whom she knew to be favorites of mine. Of course I
+would not let her do it.
+
+"Well, one day I found that this sort of life was intolerable, and I
+made an effort to put an end to it all. My love was not all gone yet,
+and I began to think that I had been to blame. She had always been
+indulged, and I ought to have kept up the system a little longer, and
+let her down more gradually. I thought of her as I first saw her in
+the glory of her youthful beauty on the Calais boat, and softened my
+heart till I began to long for a reconciliation. Really I could not
+see where I had done any thing out of the way. I was awfully fond of
+her at first, and would have remained so if she had let me; but, you
+perceive, her style was not exactly the kind which is best adapted to
+keep a man at a woman's feet. If she had shown the slightest particle
+of tenderness, I would have gladly forgiven her all--yes, even the
+kick, by Jove!
+
+"We had been married about six months or so, and had not spoken for
+over four months; so on the day I refer to I went to her room. She
+received me with a sulky expression, and a hard stare full of insult.
+
+"'My dear,' said I, 'I have come to talk seriously with you.'
+
+"'Kate,' said she, 'show this gentleman out.'
+
+"It was her maid to whom she spoke. The maid colored. I turned to her
+and pointed to the door, and she went out herself. My wife stood
+trembling with rage--a beautiful fury.
+
+"'I have determined,' said I, quietly, 'to make one last effort for
+reconciliation, and I want to be heard. Hear me now, dear, dear wife.
+I want your love again; I can not live this way. Can nothing be done?
+Must I, must you, always live this way? Have I done any wrong? If I
+have, I repent. But come, let us forget our quarrel; let us remember
+the first days of our acquaintance. We loved one another, darling. And
+how beautiful you were! You are still as beautiful; won't you be as
+loving? Don't be hard on a fellow, dear. If I've done any wrong, tell
+me, and I'll make it right. See, we are joined together for life.
+Can't we make life sweeter for one another than it is now? Come, my
+wife, be mine again.'
+
+"I went on in this strain for some time, and my own words actually
+softened me more as I spoke. I felt sorry, too, for my wife, she
+seemed so wretched. Besides, it was a last chance, and I determined to
+humble myself. Any thing was better than perpetual hate and misery. So
+at last I got so affected by my own eloquence that I became quite
+spooney. Her back was turned to me; I could not see her face. I
+thought by her silence that she was affected, and, in a gush of
+tenderness, I put my arm around her.
+
+"In an instant she flung it off, and stepped back, confronting me with
+a face as hard and an eye as malevolent as a demon.
+
+"She reached out her hand toward the bell.
+
+"'What are you going to do?' I asked.
+
+"'Ring for my maid,' said she.
+
+[Illustration: "VERY WELL. HERE IT IS."]
+
+"'Don't,' said I, getting between her and the bell. 'Think; stop, I
+implore you. This is our last chance for a reconciliation.'
+
+"She stepped back with a cruel smile. She had a small penknife in her
+hand. Her eyes glittered venomously.
+
+"'Reconciliation,' she said, with a sneer. '_I_ don't want it; _I_
+don't want _you. You_ came and forced yourself here. Ring for my maid,
+and I will let her show you the door.'
+
+"'You can't mean it?' I said.
+
+"'I do mean it,' she replied. 'Ring the bell,' she added, imperiously.
+
+"I stood looking at her.
+
+"'Leave the room, then,' she said.
+
+"'I must have a satisfactory answer,' said I.
+
+"'Very well,' said she. 'Here it is.'
+
+"And saying this she took the penknife by the blade, between her thumb
+and finger, and slung it at me. It struck me on the arm, and buried
+itself deep in the flesh till it touched the bone. I drew it out, and
+without another word left the room. As I went out I heard her
+summoning the maid in a loud, stern voice.
+
+"Well, after that I went to the Continent, and spent about six months.
+Then I returned.
+
+"On my return I found every thing changed. She had sent off all the
+servants, and brought there a lot of ruffians whom she was unable to
+manage, and who threw every thing into confusion. All the gentry
+talked of her, and avoided the place. My friends greeted me with
+strange, pitying looks. She had cut down most of the woods, and sold
+the timber; she had sent off a number of valuable pictures and sold
+them. This was to get money, for I afterward found out that avarice
+was one of her strongest vices.
+
+"The sight of all this filled me with indignation, and I at once
+turned out the whole lot of servants, leaving only two or three maids.
+I obtained some of the old servants, and reinstated them. All this
+made my wife quite wild. She came up to me once and began to storm,
+but I said something to her which shut her up at once.
+
+"One day I came home and found her on the portico, in her
+riding-habit. She was whipping one of the maids with the butt end of
+her riding-whip. I rushed up and released the poor creature, whose
+cries were really heart-rending, when my wife turned on me, like a
+fury, and struck two blows over my head. One of the scars is on my
+forehead still. See."
+
+And Dacres put aside his hair on the top of his head, just over his
+right eye, and showed a long red mark, which seemed like the scar of a
+dangerous wound.
+
+"It was an ugly blow," he continued. "I at once tore the whip from
+her, and, grasping her hand, led her into the drawing-room. There I
+confronted her, holding her tight. I dare say I was rather a queer
+sight, for the blood was rushing down over my face, and dripping from
+my beard.
+
+"'Look here, now,' I said; 'do you know any reason why I shouldn't lay
+this whip over your shoulders? The English law allows it. Don't you
+feel that you deserve it?'
+
+"She shrank down, pale and trembling. She was a coward, evidently, and
+accessible to physical terror.
+
+"'If I belonged to your class,' said I, 'I would do it. But I am of a
+different order. I am a gentleman. Go. After all, I'm not sorry that
+you gave me this blow.'
+
+"I stalked out of the room, had a doctor, who bound up the wound, and
+then meditated over my situation. I made up my mind at once to a
+separation. Thus far she had done nothing to warrant a divorce, and
+separation was the only thing. I was laid up and feverish for about a
+month, but at the end of that time I had an interview with my wife. I
+proposed a separation, and suggested that she should go home to her
+father. This she refused. She declared herself quite willing to have a
+separation, but insisted on living at Dacres Grange.
+
+"'And what am I to do?' I asked.
+
+"'Whatever you please,' she replied, calmly.
+
+"'Do you really propose,' said I, 'to drive me out of the home of my
+ancestors, and live here yourself? Do you think I will allow this
+place to be under your control after the frightful havoc that you have
+made?'
+
+"'I shall remain here,' said she, firmly.
+
+"I said nothing more. I saw that she was immovable. At the same time I
+could not consent. I could not live with her, and I could not go away
+leaving her there. I could not give up the ancestral home to her, to
+mar and mangle and destroy. Well, I waited for about two months, and
+then--"
+
+"Well?" asked Hawbury, as Dacres hesitated.
+
+"Dacres Grange was burned down," said the other, in a low voice.
+
+"Burned down!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good Lord!"
+
+"It caught fire in the daytime. There were but few servants. No
+fire-engines were near, for the Grange was in a remote place, and so
+the fire soon gained headway and swept over all. My wife was frantic.
+She came to me as I stood looking at the spectacle, and charged me
+with setting fire to it. I smiled at her, but made no reply.
+
+"So you see she was burned out, and that question was settled. It was
+a terrible thing, but desperate diseases require desperate remedies;
+and I felt it more tolerable to have the house in ruins than to have
+her living there while I had to be a wanderer.
+
+"She was now at my mercy. We went to Exeter. She went to her father,
+and I finally succeeded in effecting an arrangement which was
+satisfactory on all sides.
+
+"First of all, the separation should be absolute, and neither of us
+should ever hold communication with the other in any shape or way.
+
+"Secondly, she should take another name, so as to conceal the fact
+that she was my wife, and not do any further dishonor to the name.
+
+"In return for this I was to give her outright twenty thousand pounds
+as her own absolutely, to invest or spend just as she chose. She
+insisted on this, so that she need not be dependent on any annual
+allowance. In consideration of this she forfeited every other claim,
+all dower right in the event of my death, and every thing else. This
+was all drawn up in a formal document, and worded as carefully as
+possible. I don't believe that the document would be of much use in a
+court of law in case she wished to claim any of her rights, but it
+served to satisfy her, and she thought it was legally sound and
+actually inviolable.
+
+"Here we separated. I left England, and have never been there since."
+
+Dacres stopped, and sat silent for a long time.
+
+"Could she have been mad?" asked Hawbury.
+
+"I used to think so, but I believe not. She showed too much sense in
+every thing relating to herself. She sold pictures and timber, and
+kept every penny. She was acute enough in grasping all she could.
+During our last interviews while making these arrangements she was
+perfectly cool and lady-like."
+
+"Have you ever heard about her since?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Is she alive yet?"
+
+"That's the bother."
+
+"What! don't you know?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Haven't you ever tried to find out?"
+
+"Yes. Two years ago I went and had inquiries made at Exeter. Nothing
+could be found out. She and her father had left the place immediately
+after my departure, and nothing was known about them."
+
+"I wonder that you didn't go yourself?"
+
+"What for? I didn't care about seeing her or finding her."
+
+"Do you think she's alive yet?"
+
+"I'm afraid she is. You see she always had excellent health, and
+there's no reason why she should not live to be an octogenarian."
+
+"Yet she may be dead."
+
+"_May_ be! And what sort of comfort is that to me in my present
+position, I should like to know? _May_ be? Is that a sufficient
+foundation for me to build on? No. In a moment of thoughtlessness I
+have allowed myself to forget the horrible position in which I am. But
+now I recall it. I'll crush down my feelings, and be a man again. I'll
+see the child-angel once more; once more feast my soul over her sweet
+and exquisite loveliness; once more get a glance from her tender,
+innocent, and guileless eyes, and then away to South America."
+
+"You said your wife took another name."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What was it? Do you know it?"
+
+"Oh yes; it was _Willoughby_"
+
+"_Willoughby_!" cried Hawbury, with a start; "why, that's the name of
+my Ethel's friend, at Montreal. Could it have been the same?"
+
+"Pooh, man! How is that possible? Willoughby is not an uncommon name.
+It's not more likely that your Willoughby and mine are the same than
+it is that your Ethel is the one I met at Vesuvius. It's only a
+coincidence, and not a very wonderful one, either."
+
+"It seems con-foundedly odd, too," said Hawbury, thoughtfully.
+"Willoughby? Ethel? Good Lord! But pooh! What rot? As though they
+_could_ be the same. Preposterous! By Jove!"
+
+And Hawbury stroked away the preposterous idea through his long,
+pendent whiskers.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE CAUGHT MINNIE IN HER ARMS."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+NEW EMBARRASSMENTS.
+
+
+Mrs. Willoughby had been spending a few days with a friend whom she
+had found in Naples, and on her return was greatly shocked to hear of
+Minnie's adventure on Vesuvius. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel had a story
+to tell which needed no exaggerations and amplifications to agitate
+her strongly. Minnie was not present during the recital; so, after
+hearing it, Mrs. Willoughby went to her room.
+
+Here she caught Minnie in her arms, and kissed her in a very effusive
+manner.
+
+"Oh, Minnie, my poor darling, what is all this about Vesuvius? Is it
+true? It is terrible. And now I will never dare to leave you again.
+How could I think that you would be in any danger with Lady Dalrymple
+and Ethel? As to Ethel, I am astonished. She is always so grave and so
+sad that she is the very last person I would have supposed capable of
+leading you into danger."
+
+"Now, Kitty dearest, that's not true," said Minnie; "she didn't lead
+me at all. I led her. And how did I know there was any danger? I
+remember now that dear, darling Ethel said there was, and I didn't
+believe her. But it's always the way." And Minnie threw her little
+head on one side, and gave a resigned sigh.
+
+"And did you really get into the crater?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, with
+a shudder.
+
+"Oh, I suppose so. They all said so," said Minnie, folding her little
+hands in front of her. "I only remember some smoke, and then jolting
+about dreadfully on the shoulder of some great--big--awful--man."
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"What's the matter, Kitty dearest?"
+
+"Another man!" groaned her sister.
+
+"Well, and how _could_ I help it?" said Minnie. "I'm _sure_ I didn't
+want him. I'm _sure_ I think he might have let me alone. I don't see
+_why_ they all act so. I _wish_ they wouldn't be all the time coming
+and saving my life. If people _will_ go and save my life, I can't help
+it. I think it's very, very horrid of them."
+
+"Oh dear! oh dear!" sighed her sister again.
+
+"Now, Kitty, stop."
+
+"Another man!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Now, Kitty, if you are so unkind, I'll cry. You're _always_ teasing
+me. You _never_ do any thing to comfort me. You _know_ I want comfort,
+and I'm not strong, and people all come and save my life and worry me;
+and I really sometimes think I'd rather not live at all if my life
+_has_ to be saved so often. I'm sure _I_ don't know why they go and do
+it. I'm sure _I_ never heard of any person who is always going and
+getting her life saved, and bothered, and proposed to, and written to,
+and chased, and frightened to death. And I've a _great_ mind to go and
+get married, just to stop it all. And I'd _just_ as soon marry this
+last man as not, and make him drive all the others away from me. He's
+big enough."
+
+Minnie ended all this with a little sob; and her sister, as usual, did
+her best to soothe and quiet her.
+
+"Well, but, darling, how did it all happen?"
+
+"Oh, don't, don't."
+
+"But you might tell _me_"
+
+"Oh, I can't bear to think of it. It's too horrible."
+
+"Poor darling--the crater?"
+
+"No, the great, big man. I didn't see any crater."
+
+"Weren't you in the crater?"
+
+"No, I wasn't."
+
+"They said you were."
+
+"I wasn't. I was on the back of a big, horrid man, who gave great
+jumps down the side of an awful mountain, all sand and things, and
+threw me down at the bottom of it, and--and--disarranged all my hair.
+And I was so frightened that I couldn't even cur--cur--cry."
+
+Here Minnie sobbed afresh, and Mrs. Willoughby petted her again.
+
+"And you shouldn't tease me so; and it's very unkind in you; and you
+know I'm not well; and I can't bear to think about it all; and I know
+you're going to scold me; and you're _always_ scolding me; and you
+_never_ do what I want you to. And then people are _always_ coming and
+saving my life, and I can't bear it any more."
+
+"No-o-o-o-o-o, n-n-no-o-o-o, darling!" said Mrs. Willoughby,
+soothingly, in the tone of a nurse appeasing a fretful child. "You
+sha'n't bear it any more."
+
+"I don't _want_ them to save me any more."
+
+"Well, they sha'n't _do_ it, then," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+affectionately, in a somewhat maudlin tone.
+
+"And the next time I lose my life, I don't want to be saved. I want
+them to let me alone, and I'll come home myself."
+
+"And so you shall, darling; you shall do just as you please. So, now,
+cheer up; don't cry;" and Mrs. Willoughby tried to wipe Minnie's eyes.
+
+"But you're treating me just like a baby, and I don't want to be
+talked to so," said Minnie, fretfully.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby retreated with a look of despair.
+
+"Well, then, dear, I'll do just whatever you want me to do."
+
+"Well, then, I want you to tell me what I am to do."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Why, about this great, big, horrid man."
+
+"I thought you didn't want me to talk about this any more."
+
+"But I _do_ want you to talk about it. You're the only person that
+I've got to talk to about it; nobody else knows how peculiarly I'm
+situated; and I didn't think that you'd give me up because I had fresh
+troubles."
+
+"Give you up, darling!" echoed her sister, in surprise.
+
+"You said you wouldn't talk about it any more."
+
+"But I thought you didn't want me to talk about it."
+
+"But I _do_ want you to."
+
+"Very well, then; and now I want you first of all, darling, to tell me
+how you happened to get into such danger."
+
+"Well, you know," began Minnie, who now seemed calmer--"you know we
+all went out for a drive. And we drove along for miles. Such a drive!
+There were lazaroni, and donkeys, and caleches with as many as twenty
+in each, all pulled by one poor horse, and it's a great shame; and
+pigs--oh, _such_ pigs! Not a particle of hair on them, you know, and
+looking like young elephants, you know; and we saw great droves of
+oxen, and long lines of booths, no end; and people selling macaroni,
+and other people eating it right in the open street, you know--such
+fun!--and fishermen and fish-wives. Oh, how they _were_ screaming, and
+oh, _such_ a hubbub as there was! and we couldn't go on fast, and
+Dowdy seemed really frightened."
+
+"Dowdy?" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, in an interrogative tone.
+
+"Oh, that's a name I've just invented for Lady Dalrymple. It's better
+than Rymple. She said so. It's Dowager shortened. She's a dowager, you
+know. And so, you know, I was on the front seat all the time, when all
+at once I saw a gentleman on horseback. He was a great big man--oh,
+_so_ handsome!--and he was looking at poor little me as though he
+would eat me up. And the moment I saw him I was frightened out of my
+poor little wits, for I knew he was coming to save my life."
+
+"You poor little puss! what put such an idea as that into your
+ridiculous little head?"
+
+"Oh, I knew it--second-sight, you know. We've got Scotch blood, Kitty
+darling, you know. So, you know, I sat, and I saw that he was
+pretending not to see me, and not to be following us; but all the time
+he was taking good care to keep behind us, when he could easily have
+passed us, and all to get a good look at poor me, you know.
+
+"Well," continued Minnie, drawing a long breath, "you know I was
+awfully frightened; and so I sat looking at him, and I whispered all
+the time to myself: 'Oh, please don't!--ple-e-e-e-e-ease don't! Don't
+come and save my life! Ple-e-e-e-e-ease let me alone! I don't want to
+be saved at all.' I said this, you know, all to myself, and the more I
+said it the more he seemed to fix his eyes on me."
+
+"It was very, very rude in him, _I_ think," said Mrs. Willoughby, with
+some indignation.
+
+"No, it wasn't," said Minnie, sharply. "He wasn't rude at all. He
+tried not to look at me. He pretended to be looking at the sea, and at
+the pigs, and all that sort of thing, you know; but all the time, you
+know, I knew very well that he saw me out of the corner of his
+eye--this way."
+
+And Minnie half turned her head, and threw upon her sister, out of the
+corner of her eyes, a glance so languishing that the other laughed.
+
+"He didn't look at you that way. I hope?"
+
+"There was nothing to laugh at in it at all," said Minnie. "He had an
+awfully solemn look--it was so earnest, so sad, and so dreadful, that
+I really began to feel quite frightened. And so would _you_; wouldn't
+_you_, now, Kitty darling; now _wouldn't_ you? Please say so."
+
+"Oh yes!"
+
+"Of course you would. Well, this person followed us. I could see him
+very easily, though he tried to avoid notice; and so at last we got to
+the Hermitage, and he came too. Well, you know, I think I was very
+much excited, and I asked Dowdy to let us go and see the cone; so she
+let us go. She gave no end of warnings, and we promised to do all that
+she said. So Ethel and I went out, and there was the stranger. Well, I
+felt more excited than ever, and a little bit frightened--just a very,
+very, tiny, little bit, you know, and I teased Ethel to go to the
+cone. Well, the stranger kept in sight all the time, you know, and I
+_felt_ his eyes on me--I really _felt_ them. So, you know, when we got
+at the foot of the cone, I was so excited that I was really quite
+beside myself, and I teased and teased, till at last Ethel consented
+to go up. So the men took us up on chairs, and all the time the
+stranger was in sight. He walked up by himself with great, big, long,
+strong strides. So we went on till we got at the top, and then I was
+wilder than ever. I didn't know that there was a particle of danger. I
+was dying with curiosity to look down, and see where the smoke came
+from. The stranger was standing there too, and that's what made me so
+excited. I wanted to show him--I don't know what. I think my idea was
+to show him that I could take care of myself. So then I teased and
+teased, and Ethel begged and prayed, and she cried, and I laughed; and
+there stood the stranger, seeing it all, until at last I started off,
+and ran up to the top, you know."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby shuddered, and took her sister's hand.
+
+"There was no end of smoke, you know, and it was awfully unpleasant,
+and I got to the top I don't know how, when suddenly I fainted."
+
+Minnie paused for a moment, and looked at her sister with a rueful
+face.
+
+"Well, now, dear, darling, the very--next--thing--that I remember is
+this, and it's horrid: I felt awful jolts, and found myself in the
+arms of a great, big, horrid man, who was running down the side of the
+mountain with dreadfully long jumps, and I felt as though he was some
+horrid ogre carrying poor me away to his den to eat me up. But I
+didn't say one word. I wasn't much frightened. I felt provoked. I knew
+it was that horrid man. And then I wondered what you'd say; and I
+thought, oh, how you _would_ scold! And then I knew that this horrid
+man would chase me away from Italy; and then I would have to go to
+Turkey, and have my life saved by a Mohammedan. And that was horrid.
+
+"Well, at last he stopped and laid me down. He was very gentle, though
+he was so big. I kept my eyes shut, and lay as still as a mouse,
+hoping that Ethel would come. But Ethel didn't. She was coming down
+with the chair, you know, and her men couldn't run like mine. And oh,
+Kitty darling, you have no _idea_ what I suffered. This horrid man was
+rubbing and pounding at my hands, and sighing and groaning. I stole a
+little bit of a look at him--just a little bit of a bit--and saw tears
+in his eyes, and a wild look of fear in his face. Then I knew that he
+was going to propose to me on the spot, and kept my eyes shut tighter
+than ever.
+
+"Well, at last he hurt my hands so that I thought I'd try to make him
+stop. So I spoke as low as I could, and asked if I was home, and he
+said yes."
+
+Minnie paused.
+
+"Well?" asked her sister.
+
+"Well," said Minnie, in a doleful tone, "I then asked, 'Is that you,
+papa dear?'"
+
+Minnie stopped again.
+
+"Well?" asked Mrs. Willoughby once more.
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"Well, he said--he said, 'Yes, darling'--and--"
+
+"And what?"
+
+"And he kissed me," said Minnie, in a doleful voice.
+
+"Kissed you!" exclaimed her sister, with flashing eyes.
+
+"Ye-yes," stammered Minnie, with a sob; "and I think it's a shame; and
+none of them ever did so before; and I don't want you ever to go away
+again, Kitty darling."
+
+"The miserable wretch!" cried Mrs. Willoughby, indignantly.
+
+"No, he isn't--he isn't that," said Minnie. "He isn't a miserable
+wretch at all."
+
+"How could any one be so base who pretends to the name of gentleman!"
+cried Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"He wasn't base--and it's very wicked of you, Kitty. He only
+pretended, you know."
+
+"Pretended!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pretended what?"
+
+"Why, that he was my--my father, you know."
+
+"Does Ethel know this?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, after a curious look at
+Minnie.
+
+"No, of course not, nor Dowdy either; and you mustn't go and make any
+disturbance."
+
+"Disturbance? no; but if I ever see him, I'll let him know what I
+think of him," said Mrs. Willoughby, severely.
+
+"But he saved my life, and so you know you can't be _very_ harsh with
+him. Please don't--ple-e-e-ease now, Kitty darling."
+
+"Oh, you little goose, what whimsical idea have you got now?"
+
+"Please don't, ple-e-e-ease don't," repeated Minnie.
+
+"Oh, never mind; go on now, darling, and tell me about the rest of
+it."
+
+"Well, there isn't any more. I lay still, you know, and at last Ethel
+came; and then we went back to Dowdy, and then we came home, you
+know."
+
+"Well, I hope you've lost him."
+
+"Lost him? Oh no; I never do. They always _will_ come. Besides, this
+one will, I know."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he said so."
+
+"Said so? when?"
+
+"Yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Yes; we met him."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Dowdy and I. We were out driving. We stopped and spoke to him. He was
+dreadfully earnest and awfully embarrassed; and I knew he was going to
+propose; so I kept whispering to myself all the time, 'Oh, please
+don't--please don't;' but I know he will; and he'll be here soon too."
+
+"He sha'n't. I won't let him. I'll never give him the chance."
+
+"I think you needn't be so cruel."
+
+"Cruel!"
+
+"Yes; to the poor man."
+
+"Why, you don't want another man, I hope?"
+
+"N-no; but then I don't want to hurt his feelings. It was awfully good
+of him, you know, and _aw_fully plucky."
+
+[Illustration:
+"IF I EVER SEE HIM, I'LL LET HIM KNOW WHAT I THINK OF HIM."]
+
+"Well, I should think that you would prefer avoiding him, in your
+peculiar situation."
+
+"Yes, but he may feel hurt."
+
+"Oh, he may see you once or twice with me."
+
+"But he may want to see me alone, and what _can_ I do?"
+
+"Really now, Minnie, you must remember that you are in a serious
+position. There is that wretched Captain Kirby."
+
+"I know," said Minnie, with a sigh.
+
+"And that dreadful American. By-the-way, darling, you have never told
+me his name. It isn't of any consequence, but I should like to know
+the American's name."
+
+"It's--Rufus K. Gunn."
+
+"Rufus K. Gunn; what a funny name! and what in the world is 'K' for?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. He says it is the fashion in his country to have some
+letter of the alphabet between one's names, and he chose 'K,' because
+it was so awfully uncommon. Isn't it funny, Kitty darling?"
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed her sister; "and then there is that pertinacious
+Count Girasole. Think what trouble we had in getting quietly rid of
+him. I'm afraid all the time that he will not stay at Florence, as he
+said, for he seems to have no fixed abode. First he was going to Rome,
+and then Venice, and at last he committed himself to a statement that
+he had to remain at Florence, and so enabled us to get rid of him. But
+I know he'll come upon us again somewhere, and then we'll have all the
+trouble over again. Oh dear! Well, Minnie darling, do you know the
+name of this last one?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"It's a funny name," said Minnie; "a very funny name."
+
+"Tell it to me."
+
+"It's Scone Dacres; and isn't that a funny name?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby started at the mention of that name. Then she turned
+away her head, and did not say a word for a long time.
+
+"Kitty!"
+
+No answer.
+
+"Kitty darling, what's the matter?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby turned her head once more. Her face was quite calm,
+and her voice had its usual tone, as she asked,
+
+"Say that name again."
+
+"Scone Dacres," said Minnie.
+
+"Scone Dacres!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby; "and what sort of a man is
+he?"
+
+"Big--very big--awfully big!" said Minnie. "Great, big head and broad
+shoulders. Great, big arms, that carried me as if I were a feather;
+big beard too; and it tickled me so when he--he pretended that he was
+my father; and very sad. And, oh! I know I should be so _aw_fully fond
+of him. And, oh! Kitty darling, what do you think?"
+
+"What, dearest?"
+
+"Why, I'm--I'm afraid--I'm really beginning to--to--like him--just a
+little tiny bit, you know."
+
+"Scone Dacres!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, who didn't seem to have
+heard this last effusion. "Scone Dacres! Well, darling, don't trouble
+yourself; he sha'n't trouble you."
+
+"But I _want_ him to," said Minnie.
+
+"Oh, nonsense, child!"
+
+[Illustration: "HALLO, OLD MAN, WHAT'S UP NOW?"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A FEARFUL DISCOVERY.
+
+
+A few days after this Hawbury was in his room, when Dacres entered.
+
+"Hallo, old man, what's up now? How goes the war?" said Hawbury. "But
+what the mischief's the matter? You look cut up. Your brow is sad;
+your eyes beneath flash like a falchion from its sheath. What's
+happened? You look half snubbed, and half desperate."
+
+Dacres said not a word, but flung himself into a chair with a look
+that suited Hawbury's description of him quite accurately. His brows
+lowered into a heavy frown, his lips were compressed, and his breath
+came quick and hard through his inflated nostrils. He sat thus for
+some time without taking any notice whatever of his friend, and at
+length lighted a cigar, which he smoked, as he often did when excited,
+in great voluminous puffs. Hawbury said nothing, but after one or two
+quick glances at his friend, rang a bell and ordered some "Bass."
+
+"Here, old fellow," said he, drawing the attention of Dacres to the
+refreshing draught. "Take some--'Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe,
+and forget thy lost Lenore.'"
+
+Dacres at this gave a heavy sigh that sounded like a groan, and
+swallowed several tumblers in quick succession.
+
+"Hawbury!" said he at length, in a half-stifled voice.
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"I've had a blow to-day full on the breast that fairly staggered me."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Fact. I've just come from a mad ride along the shore. I've been mad,
+I think, for two or three hours. Of all the monstrous, abominable,
+infernal, and unheard-of catastrophes this is the worst."
+
+He stopped, and puffed away desperately at his cigar.
+
+"Don't keep a fellow in suspense this way," said Hawbury at last.
+"What's up? Out with it, man."
+
+"Well, you know, yesterday I called there."
+
+Hawbury nodded.
+
+"She was not at home."
+
+"So you said."
+
+"You know she really wasn't, for I told you that I met their carriage.
+The whole party were in it, and on the front seat beside Minnie there
+was another lady. This is the one that I had not seen before. She
+makes the fourth in that party. She and Minnie had their backs turned
+as they came up. The other ladies bowed as they passed, and as I held
+off my hat I half turned to catch Minnie's eyes, when I caught sight
+of the face of the lady. It startled me so much that I was
+thunder-struck, and stood there with my hat off after they had passed
+me for some time."
+
+"You said nothing about that, old chap. Who the deuce could she have
+been?"
+
+"No, I said nothing about it. As I cantered off I began to think that
+it was only a fancy of mine, and finally I was sure of it, and laughed
+it off. For, you must know, the lady's face looked astonishingly like
+a certain face that I don't particularly care to see--certainly not in
+such close connection with Minnie. But, you see, I thought it might
+have been my fancy, so that I finally shook off the feeling, and said
+nothing to you about it."
+
+Dacres paused here, rubbed his hand violently over his hair at the
+place where the scar was, and then, frowning heavily, resumed:
+
+"Well, this afternoon I called again. They were at home. On entering I
+found three ladies there. One was Lady Dalrymple, and the others were
+Minnie and her friend Ethel--either her friend or her sister. I think
+she's her sister. Well, I sat for about five minutes, and was just
+beginning to feel the full sense of my happiness, when the door opened
+and another lady entered. Hawbury"--and Dacres's tones deepened into
+an awful solemnity--"Hawbury, it was the lady that I saw in the
+carriage yesterday. One look at her was enough. I was assured then
+that my impressions yesterday were not dreams, but the damnable and
+abhorrent truth!"
+
+"What impressions--you haven't told me yet, you know?"
+
+[Illustration: "I STOOD TRANSFIXED."]
+
+"Wait a minute. I rose as she entered, and confronted her. She looked
+at me calmly, and then stood as though expecting to be introduced.
+There was no emotion visible whatever. She was prepared for it: I was
+not: and so she was as cool as when I saw her last, and, what is more,
+just as young and beautiful."
+
+"The devil!" cried Hawbury.
+
+Dacres poured out another glass of ale and drank it. His hand trembled
+slightly as he put down the glass, and he sat for some time in thought
+before he went on.
+
+"Well, Lady Dalrymple introduced us. It was Mrs. Willoughby!"
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "I saw you were coming to that."
+
+"Well, you know, the whole thing was so sudden, so unexpected, and so
+perfectly overwhelming, that I stood transfixed. I said nothing. I
+believe I bowed, and then somehow or other, I really don't know how, I
+got away, and, mounting my horse, rode off like a madman. Then I came
+home, and here you see me."
+
+There was a silence now for some time.
+
+"Are you sure that it was your wife?"
+
+"Of course I am. How could I be mistaken?"
+
+"Are you sure the name was Willoughby?"
+
+"Perfectly sure."
+
+"And that is the name your wife took?"
+
+"Yes; I told you so before, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes. But think now. Mightn't there be some mistake?"
+
+"Pooh! how could there be any mistake?"
+
+"Didn't you see any change in her?"
+
+"No, only that she looked much more quiet than she used to. Not so
+active, you know. In her best days she was always excitable, and a
+little demonstrative; but now she seems to have sobered down, and is
+as quiet and well-bred as any of the others."
+
+"Was there not any change in her at all?"
+
+"Not so much as I would have supposed; certainly not so much as there
+is in me. But then I've been knocking about all over the world, and
+she's been living a life of peace and calm, with the sweet
+consciousness of having triumphed over a hated husband, and possessing
+a handsome competency. Now she mingles in the best society. She
+associates with lords and ladies. She enjoys life in England, while I
+am an exile. No doubt she passes for a fine young widow. No doubt,
+too, she has lots of admirers. They aspire to her hand. They write
+poetry to her. They make love to her. Confound her!"
+
+Dacres's voice grew more and more agitated and excited as he spoke,
+and at length his tirade against his wife ended in something that was
+almost a roar.
+
+Hawbury said nothing, but listened, with his face full of sympathy. At
+last his pent-up feeling found expression in his favorite exclamation,
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Wouldn't I be justified in wringing her neck?" asked Dacres, after a
+pause. "And what's worse," he continued, without waiting for an answer
+to his question--"what's worse, her presence here in this unexpected
+way has given me, _me_, mind you, a sense of guilt, while she is, of
+course, immaculate. _I_, mind you--_I_, the injured husband, with the
+scar on my head from a wound made by _her_ hand, and all the ghosts of
+my ancestors howling curses over me at night for my desolated and
+ruined home--_I_ am to be conscience-stricken in her presence, as if I
+were a felon, while _she_, the really guilty one--the blight and
+bitter destruction of my life--_she_ is to appear before me now as
+injured, and must make her appearance here, standing by the side of
+that sweet child-angel, and warning me away. Confound it all, man! Do
+you mean to say that such a thing is to be borne?"
+
+Dacres was now quite frantic; so Hawbury, with a sigh of perplexity,
+lighted a fresh cigar, and thus took refuge from the helplessness of
+his position. It was clearly a state of things in which advice was
+utterly useless, and consolation impossible. What could he advise, or
+what consolation could he offer? The child-angel was now out of his
+friend's reach, and the worst fears of the lover were more than
+realized.
+
+"I told you I was afraid of this," continued Dacres. "I had a
+suspicion that she was alive, and I firmly believe she'll outlive me
+forty years; but I must say I never expected to see her in this way,
+under such circumstances. And then to find her so infernally
+beautiful! Confound her! she don't look over twenty-five. How the
+mischief does she manage it? Oh, she's a deep one! But perhaps she's
+changed. She seems so calm, and came into the room so gently, and
+looked at me so steadily. Not a tremor, not a shake, as I live. Calm,
+Sir; cool as steel, and hard too. She looked away, and then looked
+back. They were searching glances, too, as though they read me through
+and through. Well, there was no occasion for that. She ought to know
+Scone Dacres well enough, I swear. Cool! And there stood I, with the
+blood flashing to my head, and throbbing fire underneath the scar of
+her wound--hers--her own property, for she made it! That was the woman
+that kicked me, that struck at me, that caused the destruction of my
+ancestral house, that drove me to exile, and that now drives me back
+from my love. But, by Heaven! it'll take more than her to do it; and
+I'll show her again, as I showed her once before, that Scone Dacres is
+her master. And, by Jove! she'll find that it'll take more than
+herself to keep me away from Minnie Fay."
+
+"See here, old boy," said Hawbury, "you may as well throw up the
+sponge."
+
+"I won't," said Dacres, gruffly.
+
+"You see it isn't your wife that you have to consider, but the girl;
+and do you think the girl or her friends would have a married man
+paying his attentions in that quarter? Would you have the face to do
+it under your own wife's eye? By Jove!"
+
+The undeniable truth of this assertion was felt by Dacres even in his
+rage. But the very fact that it was unanswerable, and that he was
+helpless, only served to deepen and intensify his rage. Yet he said
+nothing; it was only in his face and manner that his rage was
+manifested. He appeared almost to suffocate under the rush of fierce,
+contending passions; big distended veins swelled out in his forehead,
+which was also drawn far down in a gloomy frown; his breath came thick
+and fast, and his hands were clenched tight together. Hawbury watched
+him in silence as before, feeling all the time the impossibility of
+saying any thing that could be of any use whatever.
+
+"Well, old fellow," said Dacres at last, giving a long breath, in
+which he seemed to throw off some of his excitement, "you're right, of
+course, and I am helpless. There's no chance for me. Paying
+attentions is out of the question, and the only thing for me to do is
+to give up the whole thing. But that isn't to be done at once. It's
+been long since I've seen any one for whom I felt any tenderness, and
+this little thing, I know, is fond of me. I can't quit her at once. I
+must stay on for a time, at least, and have occasional glimpses at
+her. It gives me a fresh sense of almost heavenly sweetness to look at
+her fair young face. Besides, I feel that I am far more to her than
+any other man. No other man has stood to her in the relation in which
+I have stood. Recollect how I saved her from death. That is no light
+thing. She must feel toward me as she has never felt to any other. She
+is not one who can forget how I snatched her from a fearful death, and
+brought her back to life. Every time she looks at me she seems to
+convey all that to me in her glance."
+
+"Oh, well, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "just think. You
+can't do any thing."
+
+"But I don't want to do any thing."
+
+"It never can end in any thing, you know."
+
+"But I don't want it to end in any thing."
+
+"You'll only bother her by entangling her affections."
+
+"But I don't want to entangle her affections."
+
+"Then what the mischief _do_ you want to do?"
+
+"Why, very little. I'll start off soon for the uttermost ends of the
+earth, but I wish to stay a little longer and see her sweet face. It's
+not much, is it? It won't compromise her, will it? She need not run
+any risk, need she? And I'm a man of honor, am I not? You don't
+suppose me to be capable of any baseness, do you?"
+
+"My dear fellow, how absurd! Of course not. Only I was afraid by
+giving way to this you might drift on into a worse state of mind.
+She's all safe, I fancy, surrounded as she is by so many guardians. It
+is you that I'm anxious about."
+
+"Don't be alarmed, old chap, about me. I feel calmer already. I can
+face my situation firmly, and prepare for the worst. While I have been
+sitting here I have thought out the future. I will stay here four or
+five weeks. I will only seek solace for myself by riding about where I
+may meet her. I do not intend to go to the house at all. My demon of a
+wife may have the whole house to herself. I won't even give her the
+pleasure of supposing that she has thwarted me. She shall never even
+suspect the state of my heart. That would be bliss indeed to one like
+her, for then she would find herself able to put me on the rack. No,
+my boy; I've thought it all over. Scone Dacres is himself again. No
+more nonsense now. Do you understand now what I mean?"
+
+"Yes," said Hawbury, slowly, and in his worst drawl; "but ah, really,
+don't you think it's all nonsense?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, this ducking and diving about to get a glimpse of her face."
+
+"I don't intend to duck and dive about. I merely intend to ride like
+any other gentleman. What put that into your head, man?"
+
+"Well, I don't know; I gathered it from the way you expressed
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I don't intend any thing of the kind. I simply wish to have
+occasional looks at her--to get a bow and a smile of recognition when
+I meet her, and have a few additional recollections to turn over in my
+thoughts after I have left her forever. Perhaps this seems odd."
+
+"Oh no, it doesn't. I quite understand it. A passing smile or a
+parting sigh is sometimes more precious than any other memory. I know
+all about it, you know--looks, glances, smiles, sighs, and all that
+sort of thing, you know."
+
+"Well, now, old chap, there's one thing I want you to do for me."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"It isn't much, old fellow. It isn't much. I simply wish you to visit
+there."
+
+"_Me_?--visit _there_? What! me--and visit? Why, my dear fellow, don't
+you know how I hate such bother?"
+
+"I know all about that; but, old boy, it's only for a few weeks I ask
+it, and for my sake, as a particular favor. I put it in that light."
+
+"Oh, well, really, dear boy, if you put it in that light, you know, of
+course, that I'll do any thing, even if it comes to letting myself be
+bored to death."
+
+"Just a visit a day or so."
+
+"A visit a day!" Hawbury looked aghast.
+
+"It isn't much to ask, you know," continued Dacres. "You see my reason
+is this: I can't go there myself, as you see, but I hunger to hear
+about her. I should like to hear how she looks, and what she says, and
+whether she thinks of me."
+
+"Oh, come now! look here, my dear fellow, you're putting it a little
+too strong. You don't expect me to go there and talk to her about you,
+you know. Why, man alive, that's quite out of my way. I'm not much of
+a talker at any time; and besides, you know, there's something
+distasteful in acting as--as--By Jove! I don't know what to call it."
+
+"My dear boy, you don't understand me. Do you think I'm a sneak? Do
+you suppose I'd ask you to act as a go-between? Nonsense! I merely ask
+you to go as a cursory visitor. I don't want you to breathe my name,
+or even think of me while you are there."
+
+"But suppose I make myself too agreeable to the young lady. By Jove!
+she might think I was paying her attentions, you know."
+
+"Oh no, no! believe me, you don't know her. She's too earnest; she has
+too much soul to shift and change. Oh no! I feel that she is mine, and
+that the image of my own miserable self is indelibly impressed upon
+her heart. Oh no! you don't know her. If you had heard her thrilling
+expressions of gratitude, if you had seen the beseeching and pleading
+looks which she gave me, you would know that she is one of those
+natures who love once, and once only."
+
+"Oh, by Jove, now! Come! If that's the 'state of the case, why, I'll
+go."
+
+"Thanks, old boy."
+
+"As a simple visitor."
+
+"Yes--that's all."
+
+"To talk about the weather, and that rot."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And no more."
+
+"No."
+
+"Not a word about you."
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"No leading questions, and that sort of thing."
+
+"Nothing of the kind."
+
+"No hints, no watching, but just as if I went there of my own accord."
+
+"That's exactly the thing."
+
+"Very well; and now, pray, what good is all this going to do to you,
+my boy?"
+
+"Well, just this; I can talk to you about her every evening, and you
+can tell me how she looks, and what she says, and all that sort of
+thing, you know."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"And you'll cheer my heart, old fellow."
+
+"Heavens and earth! old boy, you don't seem to think that this is
+going to be no end of a bore."
+
+"I know it, old man; but then, you know, I'm desperate just now."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+And Hawbury, uttering this exclamation, relapsed into silence, and
+wondered over his friend's infatuation.
+
+On the following day when Dacres came in he found that Hawbury had
+kept his word.
+
+"Great bore, old fellow," said he; "but I did it. The old lady is an
+old acquaintance, you know. I'm going there to-morrow again. Didn't
+see any thing to-day of the child-angel. But it's no end of a bore,
+you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+FALSE AND FORGETFUL.
+
+
+The day when Lord Hawbury called on Lady Dalrymple was a very eventful
+one in his life, and had it not been for a slight peculiarity of his,
+the immediate result of that visit would have been of a highly
+important character. This slight peculiarity consisted in the fact
+that he was short-sighted, and, therefore, on a very critical occasion
+turned away from that which would have been his greatest joy, although
+it was full before his gaze.
+
+It happened in this wise:
+
+On the day when Hawbury called, Ethel happened to be sitting by the
+window, and saw him as he rode up. Now the last time that she had seen
+him he had a very different appearance--all his hair being burned off,
+from head and cheeks and chin; and the whiskers which he had when she
+first met him had been of a different cut from the present appendages.
+In spite of this she recognized him almost in a moment; and her heart
+beat fast, and her color came and went, and her hands clutched the
+window ledge convulsively.
+
+[Illustration: "'IT'S HE!' SHE MURMURED."]
+
+"It's _he_!" she murmured.
+
+Of course there was only one idea in her mind, and that was that he
+had heard of her presence in Naples, and had come to call on her.
+
+She sat there without motion, with her head eagerly bent forward, and
+her eyes fixed upon him. He looked up carelessly as he came along, and
+with his chin in the air, in a fashion peculiar to him, which,
+by-the-way, gave a quite unintentional superciliousness to his
+expression. For an instant his eyes rested upon her, then they moved
+away, without the slightest recognition, and wandered elsewhere.
+
+Ethel's heart seemed turned to stone. He had seen her. He had not
+noticed her. He had fixed his eyes on her and then looked away.
+Bitter, indeed, was all this to her. To think that after so long a
+period of waiting--after such hope and watching as hers had been--that
+this should be the end. She turned away from the window, with a
+choking sensation in her throat. No one was in the room. She was alone
+with her thoughts and her tears.
+
+Suddenly her mood changed. A thought came to her which dispelled her
+gloom. The glance that he had given was too hasty; perhaps he really
+had not fairly looked at her. No doubt he had come for her, and she
+would shortly be summoned down.
+
+And now this prospect brought new hope. Light returned to her eyes,
+and joy to her heart. Yes, she would be summoned. She must prepare
+herself to encounter his eager gaze. Quickly she stepped to the
+mirror, hastily she arranged those little details in which consists
+the charm of a lady's dress, and severely she scrutinized the face and
+figure reflected there. The scrutiny was a satisfactory one. Face and
+figure were perfect; nor was there in the world any thing more
+graceful and more lovely than the image there, though the one who
+looked upon it was far too self-distrustful to entertain any such idea
+as that.
+
+Then she seated herself and waited. The time moved slowly, indeed, as
+she waited there. After a few minutes she found it impossible to sit
+any longer. She walked to the door, held it open, and listened. She
+heard his voice below quite plainly. They had two suits of rooms in
+the house--the bedrooms up stairs and reception-rooms below. Here Lord
+Hawbury was, now, within hearing of Ethel. Well she knew that voice.
+She listened and frowned. The tone was too flippant. He talked like a
+man without a care--like a butterfly of society--and that was a
+class which she scorned. Here he was, keeping her waiting. Here he
+was, keeping up a hateful clatter of small-talk, while her heart was
+aching with suspense.
+
+Ethel stood there listening. Minute succeeded to minute. There was no
+request for her. How strong was the contrast between the cool
+indifference of the man below, and the feverish impatience of that
+listener above! A wild impulse came to her to go down, under the
+pretense of looking for something; then another to go down and out for
+a walk, so that he might see her. But in either case pride held her
+back. How could she? Had he not already seen her? Must he not know
+perfectly well that she was there? No; if he did not call for her she
+could not go. She could not make advances.
+
+Minute succeeded to minute, and Ethel stood burning with impatience,
+racked with suspense, a prey to the bitterest feelings. Still no
+message. Why did he delay? Her heart ached now worse than ever, the
+choking feeling in her throat returned, and her eyes grew moist. She
+steadied herself by holding to the door. Her fingers grew white at the
+tightness of her grasp; eyes and ears were strained in their intent
+watchfulness over the room below.
+
+Of course the caller below was in a perfect state of ignorance about
+all this. He had not the remotest idea of that one who now stood so
+near. He came as a martyr. He came to make a call. It was a thing he
+detested. It bored him. To a man like him the one thing to be avoided
+on earth was a bore. To be bored was to his mind the uttermost depth
+of misfortune. This he had voluntarily accepted. He was being bored,
+and bored to death.
+
+Certainly no man ever accepted a calamity more gracefully than
+Hawbury. He was charming, affable, easy, chatty. Of course he was
+known to Lady Dalrymple. The Dowager could make herself as agreeable
+as any lady living, except young and beautiful ones. The conversation,
+therefore, was easy and flowing. Hawbury excelled in this.
+
+Now there are several variations in the great art of expression, and
+each of these is a minor art by itself. Among these may be enumerated:
+
+First, of course, the art of novel-writing.
+
+Second, the art of writing editorials.
+
+Third, the art of writing paragraphs.
+
+After these come all the arts of oratory, letter-writing,
+essay-writing, and all that sort of thing, among which there is one to
+which I wish particularly to call attention, and this is:
+
+The art of small-talk.
+
+Now this art Hawbury had to an extraordinary degree of perfection. He
+knew how to beat out the faintest shred of an idea into an illimitable
+surface of small-talk. He never took refuge in the weather. He left
+that to bunglers and beginners. His resources were of a different
+character, and were so skillfully managed that he never failed to
+leave a very agreeable impression. Small-talk! Why, I've been in
+situations sometimes where I would have given the power of writing
+like Dickens (if I had it) for perfection in this last art.
+
+But this careless, easy, limpid, smooth, natural, pleasant, and
+agreeable flow of chat was nothing but gall and wormwood to the
+listener above. She ought to be there. Why was she so slighted? Could
+it be possible that he would go away without seeing her?
+
+She was soon to know.
+
+She heard him rise. She heard him saunter to the door.
+
+"Thanks, yes. Ha, ha, you're too kind--really--yes--very happy, you
+know. To-morrow, is it? Good-morning."
+
+And with these words he went out.
+
+With pale face and staring eyes Ethel darted back to the window. He
+did not see her. His back was turned. He mounted his horse and gayly
+cantered away. For full five minutes Ethel stood, crouched in the
+shadow of the window, staring after him, with her dark eyes burning
+and glowing in the intensity of their gaze. Then she turned away with
+a bewildered look. Then she locked the door. Then she flung herself
+upon the sofa, buried her head in her hands, and burst into a
+convulsive passion of tears. Miserable, indeed, were the thoughts that
+came now to that poor stricken girl as she lay there prostrate. She
+had waited long, and hoped fondly, and all her waiting and all her
+hope had been for this. It was for this that she had been praying--for
+this that she had so fondly cherished his memory. He had come at last,
+and he had gone; but for her he had certainly shown nothing save an
+indifference as profound as it was inexplicable.
+
+Ethel's excuse for not appearing at the dinner-table was a severe
+headache. Her friends insisted on seeing her and ministering to her
+sufferings. Among other things, they tried to cheer her by telling her
+of Hawbury. Lady Dalrymple was full of him. She told all about his
+family, his income, his habits, and his mode of life. She mentioned,
+with much satisfaction, that he had made inquiries after Minnie, and
+that she had promised to introduce him to her the next time he called.
+Upon which he had laughingly insisted on calling the next day. All of
+which led Lady Dalrymple to conclude that he had seen Minnie
+somewhere, and had fallen in love with her.
+
+This was the pleasing strain of conversation into which the ladies
+were led off by Lady Dalrymple. When I say the ladies, I mean Lady
+Dalrymple and Minnie. Mrs. Willoughby said nothing, except once or
+twice when she endeavored to give a turn to the conversation, in which
+she was signally unsuccessful. Lady Dalrymple and Minnie engaged in an
+animated argument over the interesting subject of Hawbury's
+intentions, Minnie taking her stand on the ground of his indifference,
+the other maintaining the position that he was in love. Minnie
+declared that she had never seen him. Lady Dalrymple asserted her
+belief that he had seen her. The latter also asserted that Hawbury
+would no doubt be a constant visitor, and gave Minnie very sound
+advice as to the best mode of treating him.
+
+[Illustration: "THEN SHE FLUNG HERSELF UPON THE SOFA."]
+
+On the following day Hawbury called, and was introduced to Minnie. He
+chatted with her in his usual style, and Lady Dalrymple was more than
+ever confirmed in her first belief. He suggested a ride, and the
+suggestion was taken up.
+
+If any thing had been needed to complete Ethel's despair it was this
+second visit and the project of a ride. Mrs. Willoughby was introduced
+to him; but he took little notice of her, treating her with a kind of
+reserve that was a little unusual with him. The reason of this was his
+strong sympathy with his friend, and his detestation of Mrs.
+Willoughby's former history. Mrs. Willoughby, however, had to ride
+with them when they went out, and thus she was thrown a little more
+into Hawbury's way.
+
+Ethel never made her appearance. The headaches which she avouched were
+not pretended. They were real, and accompanied with heartaches that
+were far more painful. Hawbury never saw her, nor did he ever hear her
+mentioned. In general he himself kept the conversation in motion; and
+as he never asked questions, they, of course, had no opportunity to
+answer. On the other hand, there was no occasion to volunteer any
+remarks about the number or the character of their party. When he
+talked it was usually with Lady Dalrymple and Minnie: and with these
+the conversation turned always upon glittering generalities, and the
+airy nothings of pleasant gossip. All this, then, will very easily
+account for the fact that Hawbury, though visiting there constantly,
+never once saw Ethel, never heard her name mentioned, and had not the
+faintest idea that she was so near. She, on the other hand, feeling
+now sure that he was utterly false and completely forgetful, proudly
+and calmly held aloof, and kept out of his way with the most jealous
+care, until at last she staid indoors altogether, for fear, if she
+went out, that she might meet him somewhere. For such a meeting she
+did not feel sufficiently strong.
+
+Often she thought of quitting Naples and returning to England. Yet,
+after all, she found a strange comfort in being there. She was near
+him. She heard his voice every day, and saw his face. That was
+something. And it was better than absence.
+
+Minnie used always to come to her and pour forth long accounts of Lord
+Hawbury--how he looked, what he said, what he did, and what he
+proposed to do. Certainly there was not the faintest approach to
+love-making, or even sentiment, in Hawbury's attitude toward Minnie.
+His words were of the world of small-talk--a world where sentiment and
+love-making have but little place. Still there was the evident fact of
+his attentions, which were too frequent to be overlooked.
+
+Hawbury rapidly became the most prominent subject of Minnie's
+conversation. She used to prattle away for hours about him. She
+alluded admiringly to his long whiskers. She thought them "lovely."
+She said that he was "awfully nice." She told Mrs. Willoughby that "he
+was nicer than any of them; and then, Kitty darling," she added, "it's
+so awfully good of him not to be coming and saving my life, and
+carrying me on his back down a mountain, like an ogre, and then
+pretending that he's my father, you know.
+
+"For you know, Kitty pet, I've always longed so awfully to see some
+really nice person, you know, who wouldn't go and save my life and
+bother me. Now he doesn't seem a bit like proposing. I do _hope_ he
+won't. Don't you, Kitty dearest? It's so _much_ nicer not to propose.
+It's so horrid when they go and propose. And then, you know, I've had
+so much of that sort of thing. So, Kitty, I think he's really the
+nicest person that I ever saw, and I really think I'm beginning to
+like him."
+
+Far different from these were the conversations which Mrs. Willoughby
+had with Ethel. She was perfectly familiar with Ethel's story. It had
+been confided to her long ago. She alone knew why it was that Ethel
+had walked untouched through crowds of admirers. The terrible story of
+her rescue was memorable to her for other reasons; and the one who had
+taken the prominent part in that rescue could not be without interest
+for her.
+
+"There is no use, Kitty--no use in talking about it any more," said
+Ethel one day, after Mrs. Willoughby had been urging her to show
+herself. "I can not. I will not. He has forgotten me utterly."
+
+"Perhaps he has no idea that you are here. He has never seen you."
+
+"Has he not been in Naples as long as we have? He must have seen me in
+the streets. He saw Minnie."
+
+"Do you think it likely that he would come to this house and slight
+you? If he had forgotten you he would not come here."
+
+"Oh yes, he would. He comes to see Minnie. He knows I am here, of
+course. He doesn't care one atom whether I make my appearance or not.
+He doesn't even give me a thought. It's so long since _that time_ that
+he has forgotten even my existence. He has been all over the world
+since then, and has had a hundred adventures. I have been living
+quietly, cherishing the remembrance of that one thing."
+
+"Ethel, is it not worth trying? Go down and try him."
+
+"I can not bear it. I can not look at him. I lose all self-command
+when he is near. I should make a fool of myself. He would look at me
+with a smile of pity. Could I endure that? No, Kitty; my weakness must
+never be known to him."
+
+"Oh, Ethel, how I wish you could try it!"
+
+"Kitty, just think how utterly I am forgotten. Mark this now. He knows
+I was at _your_ house. He must remember your name. He wrote to me
+there, and I answered him from there. He sees you now, and your name
+must be associated with mine in his memory of me, if he has any. Tell
+me now, Kitty, has he ever mentioned me? has he ever asked you about
+me? has he ever made the remotest allusion to me?"
+
+Ethel spoke rapidly and impetuously, and as she spoke she raised
+herself from the sofa where she was reclining, and turned her large,
+earnest eyes full upon her friend with anxious and eager watchfulness.
+Mrs. Willoughby looked back at her with a face full of sadness, and
+mournfully shook her head.
+
+"You see," said Ethel, as she sank down again--"you see how true my
+impression is."
+
+"I must say," said Mrs. Willoughby, "that I thought of this before. I
+fully expected that he would make some inquiry after you. I was so
+confident in the noble character of the man, both from your story and
+the description of others, that I could not believe you were right.
+But you are right, my poor Ethel. I wish I could comfort you, but I
+can not. Indeed, my dear, not only has he not questioned me about you,
+but he evidently avoids me. It is not that he is engrossed with
+Minnie, for he is not so; but he certainly has some reason of his own
+for avoiding me. Whenever he speaks to me there is an evident effort
+on his part, and though perfectly courteous, his manner leaves a
+certain disagreeable impression. Yes, he certainly has some reason for
+avoiding me."
+
+"The reason is plain enough," murmured Ethel. "He wishes to prevent
+you from speaking about a painful subject, or at least a distasteful
+one. He keeps you off at a distance by an excess of formality. He will
+give you no opportunity whatever to introduce any mention of me. And
+now let me also ask you this--does he ever take any notice of any
+allusion that may be made to me?"
+
+"I really don't remember hearing any allusion to you."
+
+"Oh, that's scarcely possible! You and Minnie must sometimes have
+alluded to 'Ethel.'"
+
+"Well, now that you put it in that light, I do remember hearing Minnie
+allude to you on several occasions. Once she wondered why 'Ethel' did
+not ride. Again she remarked how 'Ethel' would enjoy a particular
+view."
+
+"And he heard it?"
+
+"Oh, of course."
+
+"Then there is not a shadow of a doubt left. He knows I am here. He
+has forgotten me so totally, and is so completely indifferent, that he
+comes here and pays attention to another who is in the very same house
+with me. It is hard. Oh, Kitty, is it not? Is it not bitter? How could
+I have thought this of _him_?"
+
+A high-hearted girl was Ethel, and a proud one; but at this final
+confirmation of her worst fears there burst from her a sharp cry, and
+she buried her face in her hands, and moaned and wept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+GIRASOLE AGAIN.
+
+
+One day Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie were out driving. Hawbury was
+riding by the carriage on the side next Minnie, when suddenly their
+attention was arrested by a gentleman on horseback who was approaching
+them at an easy pace, and staring hard at them. Minnie's hand suddenly
+grasped her sister's arm very tightly, while her color came and went
+rapidly.
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Oh, what _shall_ I do?" said Minnie, in a hasty whisper. "Can't we
+pretend not to see him?"
+
+"Nonsense, you little goose," was the reply. "How can you think of
+such rudeness?"
+
+By this time the gentleman had reached them, and Mrs. Willoughby
+stopped the carriage, and spoke to him in a tone of gracious suavity,
+in which there was a sufficient recognition of his claims upon her
+attention, mingled with a slight hauteur that was intended to act as a
+check upon his Italian demonstrativeness.
+
+For it was no other than the Count Girasole, and his eyes glowed with
+excitement and delight, and his hat was off and as far away from his
+head as possible, and a thousand emotions contended together for
+expression upon his swarthy and handsome countenance. As soon as he
+could speak he poured forth a torrent of exclamations with amazing
+volubility, in the midst of which his keen black eyes scrutinized very
+closely the faces of the ladies, and finally turned an interrogative
+glance upon Hawbury, who sat on his horse regarding the new-comer with
+a certain mild surprise not unmingled with superciliousness. Hawbury's
+chin was in the air, his eyes rested languidly upon the stranger, and
+his left hand toyed with his left whisker. He really meant no offense
+whatever. He knew absolutely nothing about the stranger, and had not
+the slightest intention of giving offense. It was simply a way he had.
+It was merely the normal attitude of the English swell before he is
+introduced. As it was, that first glance which Girasole threw at the
+English lord inspired him with the bitterest hate, which was destined
+to produce important results afterward.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was too good-natured and too wise to slight the Count
+in any way. After introducing the two gentlemen she spoke a few more
+civil words, and then bowed him away. But Girasole did not at all take
+the hint. On the contrary, as the carriage started, he turned his
+horse and rode along with it on the side next Mrs. Willoughby. Hawbury
+elevated his eyebrows, and stared for an instant, and then went on
+talking with Minnie. And now Minnie showed much more animation than
+usual. She was much agitated and excited by this sudden appearance of
+one whom she hoped to have got rid of, and talked rapidly, and laughed
+nervously, and was so terrified at the idea that Girasole was near
+that she was afraid to look at him, but directed all her attention to
+Hawbury. It was a slight, and Girasole showed that he felt it; but
+Minnie could not help it. After a time Girasole mastered his feelings,
+and began an animated conversation with Mrs. Willoughby in very broken
+English. Girasole's excitement at Minnie's slight made him somewhat
+incoherent, his idioms were Italian rather than English, and his
+pronunciation was very bad; he also had a fashion of using an Italian
+word when he did not know the right English one, and so the
+consequence was that Mrs. Willoughby understood not much more than
+one-quarter of his remarks.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby did not altogether enjoy this state of things, and so
+she determined to put an end to it by shortening her drive. She
+therefore watched for an opportunity to do this so as not to make it
+seem too marked, and finally reached a place which was suitable. Here
+the carriage was turned, when, just as it was half-way round, they
+noticed a horseman approaching. It was Scone Dacres, who had been
+following them all the time, and who had not expected that the
+carriage would turn. He was therefore taken completely by surprise,
+and was close to them before he could collect his thoughts so as to do
+any thing. To evade them was impossible, and so he rode on. As he
+approached, the ladies saw his face. It was a face that one would
+remember afterward. There was on it a profound sadness and dejection,
+while at the same time the prevailing expression was one of sternness.
+The ladies both bowed. Scone Dacres raised his hat, and disclosed his
+broad, massive brow. He did not look at Minnie. His gaze was fixed on
+Mrs. Willoughby. Her veil was down, and he seemed trying to read her
+face behind it. As he passed he threw a quick, vivid glance at
+Girasole. It was not a pleasant glance by any means, and was full of
+quick, fierce, and insolent scrutiny--a "Who-the-devil-are-you?"
+glance. It was for but an instant, however, and then he glanced at
+Mrs. Willoughby again, and then he had passed.
+
+The ladies soon reached their home, and at once retired to Mrs.
+Willoughby's room. There Minnie flung herself upon the sofa, and Mrs.
+Willoughby sat down, with a perplexed face.
+
+"What in the world _are_ we to do?" said she.
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know," said Minnie. "I _knew_ it was going to be
+so. I said that he would find me again."
+
+"He is _so_ annoying."
+
+"Yes, but, Kitty dear, we can't be rude to him, you know, for he saved
+my life. But it's horrid, and I really begin to feel quite desperate."
+
+"I certainly will not let him see you. I have made up my mind to
+that."
+
+"And oh! how he _will_ be coming and calling, and tease, tease,
+teasing. Oh dear! I do wonder what Lord Hawbury thought. He looked
+_so_ amazed. And then--oh, Kitty dear, it was so awfully funny!--did
+you notice that other man?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby nodded her head.
+
+"Did you notice how awfully black he looked? He wouldn't look at me at
+all. _I_ know why."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.
+
+"He's awfully jealous. Oh, _I_ know it. I saw it in his face. He was
+as black as a thunder-cloud. Oh dear! And it's all about me. Oh, Kitty
+darling, what _shall_ I do? There will be something dreadful, I know.
+And how shocking to have it about me. And then the newspapers. They'll
+all have it. And the reporters. Oh dear! Kitty, why _don't_ you say
+something?"
+
+"Why, Minnie dearest, I really don't know what to say."
+
+"But, darling, you must say something. And then that Scone Dacres. I'm
+more afraid of him than any body. Oh, I know he's going to _kill_ some
+one. He is so big. Oh, if _you_ had only been on his back, Kitty
+darling, and had him run down a steep mountain-side, you'd be as
+awfully afraid of him as I am. Oh, how I _wish_ Lord Hawbury would
+drive them off, or somebody do something to save me."
+
+"Would you rather that Lord Hawbury would stay, or would you like him
+to go too?"
+
+"Oh dear! I don't care. If he would only go quietly and nicely, I
+should like to have him go too, and never, never see a man again
+except dear papa. And I think it's a shame. And I don't see why I
+should be so persecuted. And I'm tired of staying here. And I don't
+want to stay here any more. And, Kitty darling, why shouldn't we all
+go to Rome?"
+
+"To Rome?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you prefer Rome?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, yes--for several reasons. In the first place, I must go
+somewhere, and I'd rather go there than any where else. Then, you
+know, that dear, delightful holy-week will soon be here, and I'm dying
+to be in Rome."
+
+"I think it would be better for all of us," said Mrs. Willoughby,
+thoughtfully--"for all of us, if we were in Rome."
+
+"Of course it would, Kitty sweetest, and especially me. Now if I am in
+Rome, I can pop into a convent whenever I choose."
+
+"A convent!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, in surprise.
+
+"Oh yes--it's going to come to that. They're all so horrid, you know.
+Besides, it's getting worse. I got a letter yesterday from Captain
+Kirby, written to me in England. He didn't know I was here. He has
+just arrived at London, and was leaving for our place on what he
+called the wings of the wind. I expect him here at almost any time.
+Isn't it dreadful, Kitty dearest, to have so many? As fast as one goes
+another comes, and then they all come together; and do you know,
+darling, it really makes one feel quite dizzy. I'm sure _I_ don't know
+what to do. And that's why I'm thinking of a convent, you know."
+
+"But you're not a Catholic."
+
+"Oh yes, I am, you know. Papa's an Anglo-Catholic, and I don't see the
+difference. Besides, they're all the time going over to Rome; and why
+shouldn't I? I'll be a novice--that is, you know, I'll only go for a
+time, and not take the vows. The more I think of it, the more I see
+that it's the only thing there is for me to do."
+
+"Well, Minnie, I really think so too, and not only for you, but for
+all of us. There's Ethel, too; poor dear girl, her health is very
+miserable, you know. I think a change would do her good."
+
+"Of course it would; I've been talking to her about it. But she won't
+hear of leaving Naples. I _wish_ she wouldn't be so awfully sad."
+
+"Oh yes; it will certainly be the best thing for dear Ethel, and for
+you and me and all of us. Then we must be in Rome in holy-week. I
+wouldn't miss that for any thing."
+
+"And then, too, you know, Kitty darling, there's another thing," said
+Minnie, very confidentially, "and it's very important. In Rome, you
+know, all the gentlemen are clergymen--only, you know, the clergymen
+of the Roman Church can't marry; and so, you know, of course, they can
+never propose, no matter if they were to save one's life over and over
+again. And oh! what a relief that would be to find one's self among
+those dear, darling, delightful priests, and no chance of having one's
+life saved and having an instant proposal following! It would be _so_
+charming."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby smiled.
+
+"Well, Minnie dearest," said she, "I really think that we had better
+decide to go to Rome, and I don't see any difficulty in the way."
+
+"The only difficulty that I can see," said Minnie, "is that I
+shouldn't like to hurt their feelings, you know."
+
+"Their feelings!" repeated her sister, in a doleful voice.
+
+"Yes; but then, you see, some one's feelings _must_ be hurt
+eventually, so that lessens one's responsibility, you know; doesn't
+it, Kitty darling?"
+
+While saying this Minnie had risen and gone to the window, with the
+intention of taking her seat by it. No sooner had she reached the
+place, however, than she started back, with a low exclamation, and,
+standing on one side, looked cautiously forth.
+
+"Come here," she said, in a whisper.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby went over, and Minnie directed her attention to some
+one outside. It was a gentleman on horseback, who was passing at a
+slow pace. His head was bent on his breast. Suddenly, as he passed, he
+raised his head and threw over the house a quick, searching glance.
+They could see without being seen. They marked the profound sadness
+that was over his face, and saw the deep disappointment with which his
+head fell.
+
+"Scone Dacres!" said Minnie, as he passed on. "How _aw_fully sad he
+is!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.
+
+"But, after all, I don't believe it's _me_."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he didn't look at me a bit when he passed to-day. He looked
+at you, though."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Yes, and his face had an _aw_fully hungry look. I know what makes him
+sad."
+
+"What?"
+
+"He's in love with you."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby stared at Minnie for a moment. Then a short laugh
+burst from her.
+
+"Child!" she exclaimed, "you have no idea of any thing in the world
+but falling in love. You will find out some day that there are other
+feelings than that."
+
+"But, Kitty dear," said Minnie, "didn't you notice something very
+peculiar about him?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I noticed it. I had a good look at him. I saw that he fixed his eyes
+on you with--oh! _such_ a queer look. And he was awfully sad too. He
+looked as if he would like to seize you and lift you on his horse and
+carry you off, just like young Lochinvar."
+
+"Me!" said Mrs. Willoughby, with a strange intonation.
+
+"Yes, you--oh yes; really now."
+
+"Oh, you little goose, you always think of people rushing after one
+and carrying one off."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I've had reason to. So many people have always been
+running after me, and snatching me up as if I were a parcel, and
+carrying me every where in all sorts of places. And I think it's too
+bad, and I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"About this Scone Dacres. Don't you really think there's something
+very peculiarly sad, and very delightfully interesting and pathetic,
+and all that sort of thing, in his poor dear old face?"
+
+"I think Scone Dacres has suffered a great deal," said Mrs.
+Willoughby, in a thoughtful tone. "But come now. Let us go to Ethel.
+She's lonely."
+
+Soon after they joined the other ladies, and talked over the project
+of going to Rome. Lady Dalrymple offered no objection; indeed, so far
+as she had any choice, she preferred it. She was quite willing at all
+times to do whatever the rest proposed, and also was not without some
+curiosity as to the proceedings during holy-week. Ethel offered no
+objections either. She had fallen into a state of profound melancholy,
+from which nothing now could rouse her, and so she listened listlessly
+to the discussion about the subject. Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie had
+the most to say on this point, and offered the chief reasons for
+going; and thus it was finally decided to take their departure, and to
+start as soon as possible.
+
+Meanwhile Girasole had his own thoughts and experiences. He had
+already, some time before, been conscious that his attentions were not
+wanted, but it was only on the part of the other ladies that he
+noticed any repugnance to himself. On Minnie's part he had not seen
+any. In spite of their graciousness and their desire not to hurt his
+feelings, they had not been able to avoid showing that, while they
+felt grateful for his heroism in the rescue of Minnie, they could not
+think of giving her to him. They had manoeuvred well enough to get rid
+of him, but Girasole had also manoeuvred on his part to find them
+again. He had fallen off from them at first when he saw that they were
+determined on effecting this; but after allowing a sufficient time to
+elapse, he had no difficulty in tracking them, and finding them at
+Naples, as we have seen.
+
+But here he made one or two discoveries.
+
+One was that Minnie already had an accepted lover in the person of
+Lord Hawbury. The lofty superciliousness of the British nobleman
+seemed to Girasole to be the natural result of his position, and it
+seemed the attitude of the successful lover toward the rejected
+suitor.
+
+The other discovery was that Minnie herself was more pleased with the
+attentions of the English lord than with his own. This was now
+evident, and he could not help perceiving that his difficulties were
+far more formidable from the presence of such a rival.
+
+But Girasole was not easily daunted. In the first place, he had
+unbounded confidence in his own fascinations; in the second place, he
+believed that he had a claim on Minnie that no other could equal, in
+the fact that he had saved her life; in the third place, apart from
+the question of love, he believed her to be a prize of no common
+value, whose English gold would be welcome indeed to his Italian need
+and greed; while, finally, the bitter hate with which Lord Hawbury had
+inspired him gave an additional zest to the pursuit, and made him
+follow after Minnie with fresh ardor.
+
+Once or twice after this he called upon them. On the first occasion
+only Lady Dalrymple was visible. On the second, none of the ladies
+were at home. He was baffled, but not discouraged. Returning from his
+call, he met Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby. Hawbury was with them, riding
+beside Minnie. The ladies bowed, and Girasole, as before, coolly
+turned his horse and rode by the carriage, talking with Mrs.
+Willoughby, and trying to throw at Minnie what he intended to be
+impassioned glances. But Minnie would not look at him. Of course she
+was frightened as usual, and grew excited, and, as before, talked with
+unusual animation to Hawbury. Thus she overdid it altogether, and more
+than ever confirmed Girasole in the opinion that she and Hawbury were
+affianced.
+
+Two days after this Girasole called again.
+
+A bitter disappointment was in store for him.
+
+They were not there--they had gone.
+
+Eagerly he inquired where.
+
+"To Rome," was the reply.
+
+[Illustration: "'TO ROME!' HE MUTTERED, BETWEEN HIS SET TEETH."]
+
+"To Rome!" he muttered, between his set teeth; and mounting his horse
+hurriedly, he rode away.
+
+He was not one to be daunted. He had set a certain task before
+himself, and could not easily be turned aside. He thought bitterly of
+the ingratitude with which he had been treated. He brought before his
+mind the "stony British stare," the supercilious smile, and the
+impertinent and insulting expression of Hawbury's face as he sat on
+his saddle, with his chin up, stroking his whiskers, and surveyed him
+for the first time. All these things combined to stimulate the hate as
+well as the love of Girasole. He felt that he himself was not one who
+could be lightly dismissed, and determined that they should learn
+this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+VAIN REMONSTRANCES.
+
+
+Hawbury had immolated himself for as much as half a dozen times to
+gratify Dacres. He had sacrificed himself over and over upon the altar
+of friendship, and had allowed himself to be bored to death because
+Dacres so wished it. The whole number of his calls was in reality only
+about five or six; but that number, to one of his taste and
+temperament, seemed positively enormous, and represented an immense
+amount of human suffering.
+
+One day, upon reaching his quarters, after one of these calls, he
+found Dacres there, making himself, as usual, very much at home.
+
+"Well, my dear fellow," said Hawbury, cheerfully, "how waves the flag
+now? Are you hauling it down, or are you standing to your guns? Toss
+over the cigars, and give an account of yourself."
+
+"Do you know any thing about law, Hawbury?" was Dacres's answer.
+
+"Law?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No, not much. But what in the world makes you ask such a question as
+that? Law! No--not I."
+
+"Well, there's a point that I should like to ask somebody about."
+
+"Why not get a lawyer?"
+
+"An Italian lawyer's no use."
+
+"Well, English lawyers are to be found. I dare say there are twenty
+within five minutes' distance of this place."
+
+"Oh, I don't want to bother. I only wanted to ask some one's opinion
+in a general way."
+
+"Well, what's the point?"
+
+"Why this," said Dacres, after a little hesitation. "You've heard of
+outlawry?"
+
+"Should think I had--Robin Hood and his merry men, Lincoln green,
+Sherwood Forest, and all that sort of thing, you know. But what the
+mischief sets you thinking about Robin Hood?"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that rot. I mean real outlawry--when a fellow's in
+debt, you know."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well; if he goes out of the country, and stays away a certain number
+of years, the debt's outlawed, you know."
+
+"The deuce it is! Is it, though? _I've_ been in debt, but I always
+managed to pull through without getting so far. But that's convenient
+for some fellows too."
+
+"I'm a little muddy about it, but I've heard something to this effect.
+I think the time is seven years. If the debt is not acknowledged
+during the interval, it's outlawed. And now, 'pon my life, my dear
+fellow, I really don't know but that I've jumbled up some fragments of
+English law with American. I felt that I was muddy, and so I thought
+I'd ask you."
+
+"Don't know any more about it than about the antediluvians."
+
+"It's an important point, and I should like to have it looked up."
+
+"Well, get a lawyer here; half London is on the Continent. But still,
+my dear fellow, I don't see what you're driving at. You're not in
+debt?"
+
+"No--this isn't debt; but it struck me that this might possibly apply
+to other kinds of contracts."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How--such as what, for instance?"
+
+"Well, you see, I thought, you know, that all contracts might be
+included under it; and so I thought that if seven years or so annulled
+all contracts, it might have some effect, you know, upon--the--the--the
+marriage contract, you know."
+
+At this Hawbury started up, stared at Dacres, gave a loud whistle, and
+then exclaimed,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"I may be mistaken," said Dacres, modestly.
+
+"Mistaken? Why, old chap, you're mad. Marriage? Good Lord! don't you
+know nothing can abrogate that? Of course, in case of crime, one can
+get a divorce; but there is no other way. Seven years? By Jove! A good
+idea that. Why, man, if that were so, the kingdom would be
+depopulated. Husbands running off from wives, and wives from husbands,
+to pass the required seven years abroad. By Jove! You see, too,
+there's another thing, my boy. Marriage is a sacrament, and you've not
+only got to untie the civil knot, but the clerical one, my boy. No,
+no; there's no help for it. You gave your word, old chap, 'till death
+do us part,' and you're in for it."
+
+At this Dacres said nothing; it appeared to dispel his project from
+his mind. He relapsed into a sullen sort of gloom, and remained so for
+some time. At last he spoke:
+
+"Hawbury!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Have you found out who that fellow is?"
+
+"What fellow?"
+
+"Why that yellow Italian that goes prowling around after my wife."
+
+"Oh yes; I heard something or other today."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"Well, it seems that he saved her life, or something of that sort."
+
+"Saved her life!" Dacres started. "How? where? Cool, too!"
+
+"Oh, on the Alps somewhere."
+
+"On the Alps! saved her life! Come now, I like that," said Dacres,
+with bitter intonation. "Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you she
+contrived all that. Oh, she's deep! But how did it happen? Did you
+hear?"
+
+"Well, I didn't hear any thing very definite. It was something about a
+precipice. It was Lady Dalrymple that told me. It seems she was
+knocked over a precipice by an avalanche."
+
+"Was what? Knocked where? Over a precipice? By a what--an avalanche?
+Good Lord! I don't believe it. I swear I don't. She invented it all.
+It's some of her infernal humbug. She slid off over the snow, so as to
+get him to go after her. Oh, don't I know her and her ways!"
+
+"Well, come now, old man, you shouldn't be too hard on her. You never
+said that flirtation was one of her faults."
+
+"Well, neither it was; but, as she is a demon, she's capable of any
+thing; and now she has sobered down, and all her vices have taken this
+turn. Oh yes. I know her. No more storms now--no rage, no fury--all
+quiet and sly. Flirtation! Ha, ha! That's the word. And my wife! And
+going about the country, tumbling over precipices, with devilish
+handsome Italians going down to save her life! Ha, ha, ha! I like
+that!"
+
+"See here, old boy, I swear you're too suspicious. Come now. You're
+going too far. If she chooses, she may trump up the same charge
+against you and the child-angel at Vesuvius. Come now, old boy, be
+just. You can afford to. Your wife may be a fiend in human form; and
+if you insist upon it, I've nothing to say. But this last notion of
+yours is nothing but the most wretched absurdity. It's worse. It's
+lunacy."
+
+"Well, well," said Dacres, in a milder tone; "perhaps she didn't
+contrive it. But then, you know," he added, "it's just as good for
+her. She gets the Italian. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+His laugh was forced, feverish, and unnatural. Hawbury didn't like it,
+and tried to change the subject.
+
+"Oh, by-the-way," said he, "you needn't have any further trouble about
+any of them. You don't seem inclined to take any definite action, so
+the action will be taken for you."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that they are all going to leave Naples."
+
+"To leave Naples!"
+
+Dacres uttered this in a voice of grief and surprise which astonished
+Hawbury and touched him.
+
+"Yes," he said. "You know they've been here long enough. They want to
+see Rome. Holy-week, you know. No end of excitement. Illumination of
+St. Peter's, and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+Dacres relapsed into sombre silence. For more than half an hour he did
+not say a word. Hawbury respected his mood, and watched him with
+something approaching to anxiety.
+
+"Hawbury," said he at last.
+
+"Well, old man?"
+
+"I'm going to Rome."
+
+"You--to Rome!"
+
+"Yes, me, to Rome."
+
+"Oh, nonsense! See here, old boy. You'd really better not, you know.
+Break it up. You can't do any thing."
+
+"I'm going to Rome," repeated Dacres, stolidly. "I've made up my
+mind."
+
+"But, really," remonstrated Hawbury. "See here now, my dear fellow;
+look here, you know. By Jove! you don't consider, really."
+
+"Oh yes, I do. I know every thing; I consider every thing."
+
+"But what good will it do?"
+
+"It won't do any good; but it may prevent some evil."
+
+"Nothing but evil can ever come of it."
+
+"Oh, no evil need necessarily come of it."
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury, who began to be excited. "Really, my
+dear fellow, you don't think. You see you can't gain any thing. She's
+surrounded by friends, you know. She never can be yours, you know.
+There's a great gulf between you, and all that sort of thing, you
+know."
+
+"Yes," repeated Dacres, catching his last words--"yes, a great gulf,
+as deep as the bottomless abyss, never to be traversed, where she
+stands on one side, and I on the other, and between us hate, deep and
+pitiless hate, undying, eternal!"
+
+"Then, by Jove! my dear fellow, what's the use of trying to fight
+against it? You can't do any thing. If this were Indiana, now, or even
+New York, I wouldn't say any thing, you know; but you know an Indiana
+divorce wouldn't do _you_ any good. Her friends wouldn't take you on
+those terms--and she wouldn't. Not she, by Jove!"
+
+"I _must_ go. I must follow her," continued Dacres. "The sight of her
+has roused a devil within me that I thought was laid. I'm a changed
+man, Hawbury."
+
+"I should think so, by Jove!"
+
+"A changed man," continued Dacres. "Oh, Heavens, what power there is
+in a face! What terrific influence it has over a man! Here am I; a few
+days ago I was a free man; now I am a slave. But, by Heaven! I'll
+follow her to the world's end. She shall not shake me off. She thinks
+to be happy without me. She shall not. I will silently follow as an
+avenging fate. I can not have her, and no one else shall. The same
+cursed fate that severs her from me shall keep her away from others.
+If I am lonely and an exile, she shall not be as happy as she expects.
+I shall not be the only one to suffer."
+
+"See here, by Jove!" cried Hawbury. "Really. You're going too far, my
+dear boy, you know. You are, really. Come now. This is just like a
+Surrey theatre, you know. You're really raving. Why, my poor old boy,
+you _must_ give her up. You can't do any thing. You daren't call on
+her. You're tied hand and foot. You may worship her here, and rave
+about your child-angel till you're black in the face, but you never
+can see her; and as to all this about stopping her from marrying any
+other person, that's all rot and bosh. What do you suppose any other
+man would care for your nonsensical ravings? Lonely and an exile! Why,
+man, she'll be married and done for in three months."
+
+"You don't understand me," said Dacres, dryly.
+
+"I'm glad that I don't; but it's no wonder, old man, for really you
+were quite incoherent."
+
+"And so they're going to Rome," said Dacres. "Well, they'll find that
+I'm not to be shaken off so easily."
+
+"Come now, old man, you _must_ give up that."
+
+"And I suppose," continued Dacres, with a sneer, "our handsome,
+dark-eyed little Italian cavalier is going with us. Ha, ha, ha! He's
+at the house all the time, no doubt."
+
+"Well, yes; he was there once."
+
+"Ah! of course--quite devoted."
+
+"Oh yes; but don't be afraid. It was not to the child-angel. She
+appears to avoid him. That's really quite evident. It's an apparent
+aversion on her part."
+
+Dacres drew a long breath.
+
+"Oh," said he; "and so I suppose it's not _her_ that _he_ goes after.
+I did not suppose that it was. Oh no. There's another one--more
+piquant, you know--ha, ha!--a devoted lover--saved her life--quite
+devoted--and she sits and accepts his attentions. Yet she's seen me,
+and knows that I'm watching her. Don't she know _me_? Does she want
+any further proof of what I am ready to do? The ruins of Dacres Grange
+should serve her for life. She tempts fate when she carries on her
+gallantries and her Italian cicisbeism under the eyes of Scone Dacres.
+It'll end bad. By Heaven, it will!"
+
+Scone Dacres breathed hard, and, raising his head, turned upon Hawbury
+a pair of eyes whose glow seemed of fire.
+
+"Bad!" he repeated, crashing his fist on the table. "Bad, by Heaven!"
+
+Hawbury looked at him earnestly.
+
+"My dear boy," said he, "you're getting too excited. Be cool. Really,
+I don't believe you know what you're saying. I don't understand what
+you mean. Haven't the faintest idea what you're driving at. You're
+making ferocious threats against some people, but, for my life, I
+don't know who they are. Hadn't you better try to speak so that a
+fellow can understand the general drift, at least, of what you say?"
+
+"Well, then, you understand this much--I'm going to Rome."
+
+"I'm sorry for it, old boy."
+
+"And see here, Hawbury, I want you to come with me."
+
+"Me? What for?"
+
+"Well, I want you. I may have need of you."
+
+As Dacres said this his face assumed so dark and gloomy an expression
+that Hawbury began to think that there was something serious in all
+this menace.
+
+"'Pon my life," said he, "my dear boy, I really don't think you're in
+a fit state to be allowed to go by yourself. You look quite desperate.
+I wish I could make you give up this infernal Roman notion."
+
+"I'm going to Rome!" repeated Dacres, resolutely.
+
+Hawbury looked at him.
+
+"You'll come, Hawbury, won't you?"
+
+"Why, confound it all, of course. I'm afraid you'll do something rash,
+old man, and you'll have to have me to stand between you and harm."
+
+"Oh, don't be concerned about me," said Dacres. "I only want to watch
+her, and see what her little game is. I want to look at her in the
+midst of her happiness. She's most infernally beautiful, too; hasn't
+added a year or a day to her face; more lovely than ever; more
+beautiful than she was even when I first saw her. And there's a
+softness about her that she never had before. Where the deuce did she
+get that? Good idea of hers, too, to cultivate the soft style. And
+there's sadness in her face, too. Can it be real? By Heavens! if I
+thought it could be real I'd--but pooh! what insanity! It's her art.
+There never was such cunning. She cultivates the soft, sad style so as
+to attract lovers--lovers--who adore her--who save her life--who
+become her obedient slaves! Oh yes; and I--what am I? Why they get
+together and laugh at me; they giggle; they snicker--"
+
+"Confound it all, man, what are you going on at that rate for?"
+interrupted Hawbury. "Are you taking leave of your senses altogether?
+By Jove, old man, you'd better give up this Roman journey."
+
+"No, I'll keep at it."
+
+"What for? Confound it! I don't see your object."
+
+"My object? Why, I mean to follow her. I can't give her up. I won't
+give her up. I'll follow her. She shall see me every where. I'll
+follow her. She sha'n't go any where without seeing me on her track.
+She shall see that she is mine. She shall know that she's got a
+master. She shall find herself cut off from that butterfly life which
+she hopes to enter. I'll be her fate, and she shall know it."
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "What the deuce is all this about? Are you
+mad, or what? Look here, old boy, you're utterly beyond me, you know.
+What the mischief do you mean? Whom are you going to follow? Whose
+fate are you going to be? Whose track are you talking about?"
+
+"Who?" cried Dacres. "Why, my wife!"
+
+As he said this he struck his fist violently on the table.
+
+"The deuce!" exclaimed Hawbury, staring at him; after which he added,
+thoughtfully, "by Jove!"
+
+Not much more was said. Dacres sat in silence for a long time,
+breathing hard, and puffing violently at his cigar. Hawbury said
+nothing to interrupt his meditation. After an hour or so Dacres
+tramped off in silence, and Hawbury was left to meditate over the
+situation.
+
+And this was the result of his meditations.
+
+He saw that Dacres was greatly excited, and had changed completely
+from his old self. His state of mind seemed actually dangerous. There
+was an evil gleam in his eyes that looked like madness. What made it
+more perplexing still was the new revulsion of feeling that now was
+manifest. It was not so much love for the child-angel as bitter and
+venomous hate for his wife. The gentler feeling had given place to the
+sterner one. It might have been possible to attempt an argument
+against the indulgence of the former; but what could words avail
+against revenge? And now there was rising in the soul of Dacres an
+evident thirst for vengeance, the result of those injuries which had
+been carried in his heart and brooded over for years. The sight of his
+wife had evidently kindled all this. If she had not come across his
+path he might have forgotten all; but she had come, and all was
+revived. She had come, too, in a shape which was adapted in the
+highest degree to stimulate all the passion of Dacres's soul--young,
+beautiful, fascinating, elegant, refined, rich, honored, courted, and
+happy. Upon such a being as this the homeless wanderer, the outcast,
+looked, and his soul seemed turned to fire as he gazed. Was it any
+wonder?
+
+All this Hawbury thought, and with full sympathy for his injured
+friend. He saw also that Dacres could not be trusted by himself. Some
+catastrophe would be sure to occur. He determined, therefore, to
+accompany his friend, so as to do what he could to avert the calamity
+which he dreaded.
+
+And this was the reason why he went with Dacres to Rome.
+
+As for Dacres, he seemed to be animated by but one motive, which he
+expressed over and over again:
+
+"She stood between me and my child-angel, and so will I stand between
+her and her Italian!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE ZOUAVE OFFICER.
+
+
+Whatever trouble Ethel had experienced at Naples from her conviction
+that Hawbury was false was increased and, if possible, intensified by
+the discovery that he had followed them to Rome. His true motives for
+this could not possibly be known to her, so she, of course, concluded
+that it was his infatuation for Minnie, and his determination to win
+her for himself. She felt confident that he knew that she belonged to
+the party, but was so utterly indifferent to her that he completely
+ignored her, and had not sufficient interest in her to ask the
+commonest question about her. All this, of course, only confirmed her
+previous opinion, and it also deepened her melancholy. One additional
+effect it also had, and that was to deprive her of any pleasure that
+might be had from drives about Rome. She felt a morbid dread of
+meeting him somewhere; she did not yet feel able to encounter him; she
+could not trust herself; she felt sure that if she saw him she would
+lose all self-control, and make an exhibition of humiliating weakness.
+The dread of this was sufficient to detain her at home; and so she
+remained indoors, a prisoner, refusing her liberty, brooding over her
+troubles, and striving to acquire that indifference to him which she
+believed he had toward her. Now going about was the very thing which
+would have alleviated her woes, but this was the very thing that she
+was unwilling to do; nor could any persuasion shake her resolve.
+
+One day Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie were out driving, and in passing
+through a street they encountered a crowd in front of one of the
+churches. Another crowd was inside, and, as something was going on,
+they stopped the carriage and sat looking. The Swiss Guards were there
+in their picturesque costume, and the cardinals in their scarlet robes
+and scarlet coaches, and military officers of high rank, and carriages
+of the Roman aristocracy filled with beautiful ladies. Something of
+importance was going on, the nature of which they did not know. A
+little knot of Englishmen stood near; and from their remarks the
+ladies gathered that this was the Church of the Jesuits, and that the
+Pope in person was going to perform high-mass, and afterward hold a
+reception.
+
+Soon there arose a murmur and a bustle among the crowd, which was
+succeeded by a deep stillness. The Swiss Guards drove the throng to
+either side, and a passage-way was thus formed through the people to
+the church. A carriage drove up in great state. In this was seated an
+elderly gentleman in rich pontifical robes. He had a mild and gentle
+face, upon which was a sweet and winning smile. No face is more
+attractive than that of Pio Nono.
+
+"Oh, look!" cried Minnie; "that must be the Pope. Oh, what a darling!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby, however, was looking elsewhere.
+
+"Minnie," said she.
+
+"What, Kitty dear?"
+
+"Are you acquainted with any Zouave officer?"
+
+"Zouave officer! Why, no; what put such a thing as that into your
+head, you old silly?"
+
+"Because there's a Zouave officer over there in the crowd who has been
+staring fixedly at us ever since we came up, and trying to make
+signals, and it's my opinion he's signaling to you. Look at him; he's
+over there on the top of the steps."
+
+"I won't look," said Minnie, pettishly. "How do I know who he is? I
+declare I'm afraid to look at any body. He'll be coming and saving my
+life."
+
+"I'm sure this man is an old acquaintance."
+
+"Nonsense! how can he be?"
+
+"It may be Captain Kirby."
+
+"How silly! Why, Captain Kirby is in the Rifles."
+
+"Perhaps he is dressed this way just for amusement. Look at him."
+
+"Now, Kitty, I think you're unkind. You _know_ I don't want to look at
+him; I don't want to see him. I don't care who he is--the great, big,
+ugly, old horrid! And if you say any thing more, I'll go home."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was about to say something, but her attention and
+Minnie's, and that of every one else, was suddenly diverted to another
+quarter.
+
+Among the crowd they had noticed a tall man, very thin, with a lean,
+cadaverous face, and long, lanky, rusty black hair. He wore a white
+neck-tie, and a suit of rusty black clothes. He also held a large
+umbrella in his hand, which he kept carefully up out of the way of the
+crowd. This figure was a conspicuous one, even in that crowd, and the
+ladies had noticed it at the very first.
+
+As the Pope drove up they saw this long, slim, thin, cadaverous man,
+in his suit of rusty black, edging his way through the crowd, so as to
+get nearer, until at length he stood immediately behind the line of
+Swiss Guards, who were keeping the crowd back, and forming a
+passageway for the Pope. Meanwhile his Holiness was advancing through
+the crowd. He reached out his hand, and smiled and bowed and murmured
+a blessing over them. At last his carriage stopped. The door was
+opened, and several attendants prepared to receive the Pope and assist
+him out.
+
+At that instant the tall, slim stranger pushed forward his sallow
+head, with its long, lanky, and rusty black hair, between two Swiss
+Guards, and tried to squeeze between them. The Swiss at first stood
+motionless, and the stranger had actually succeeded in getting about
+half-way through. He was immediately in front of his Holiness, and
+staring at him with all his might. His Holiness saw this very peculiar
+face, and was so surprised that he uttered an involuntary exclamation,
+and stopped short in his descent.
+
+The stranger stopped short too, and quite involuntarily also. For the
+Swiss Guards, irritated by his pertinacity, and seeing the Pope's
+gesture, turned suddenly, and two of them grasped the stranger by his
+coat collar.
+
+It was, of course, an extremely undignified attitude for the Swiss
+Guards, whose position is simply an ornamental one. Nothing but the
+most unparalleled outrage to their dignity could have moved them to
+this. So unusual a display of energy, however, did not last long. A
+few persons in citizens' clothes darted forward from among the crowd,
+and secured the stranger; while the Swiss, seeing who they were,
+resumed their erect, rigid, and ornamental attitude. The Pope found no
+longer any obstacle, and resumed his descent. For a moment the
+stranger had created a wide-spread consternation in the breasts of all
+the different and very numerous classes of men who composed that
+crowd. The arrest was the signal for a murmur of voices, among which
+the ladies heard those of the knot of Englishmen who stood near.
+
+"It's some Garibaldian," said they.
+
+And this was the general sentiment.
+
+Several hours after this they were at home, and a caller was
+announced. It was the Baron Atramonte.
+
+"Atramonte!" said Lady Dalrymple. "Who is that? We're not at home, of
+course. Atramonte! Some of these Italian nobles. Really, I think we
+have seen enough of them. Who is he, Kitty?"
+
+"I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea. I never heard of him in my
+life."
+
+"We're not at home, of course. It's a singular way, and surely can not
+be Roman fashion. It's not civilized fashion. But the Continental
+nobility are _so_ odd."
+
+In a few minutes the servant, who had been dispatched to say, "Not at
+home," returned with the statement that the Baron wished particularly
+to see Miss Fay on urgent business.
+
+[Illustration: "TWO OF THEM GRASPED THE STRANGER BY HIS COAT COLLAR."]
+
+At this extraordinary message Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby
+looked first at one another, and then at Minnie, in amazement.
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know any thing about him," said Minnie. "They
+_always_ tease me so. Oh, do go and see who he is, and send him
+away--please! Oh, do, please, Dowdy dear!"
+
+"Well, I suppose I had better see the person," said Lady Dalrymple,
+good-naturedly. "There must be some mistake. How is he dressed?" she
+asked the servant. "Is he a military gentleman? Most of them seem to
+belong to the army."
+
+"Yes, my lady. Zouave dress, my lady."
+
+At this Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie looked at one another. Lady
+Dalrymple went away; and as no other was present, Ethel being, as
+usual, in her room, Mrs. Willoughby sighed and said,
+
+"I thought that man must know you."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't know him," said Minnie. "I never knew a Zouave
+officer in my life."
+
+"It may be Captain Kirby, under an assumed name and a disguise."
+
+"Oh no, it isn't. I don't believe he would be such a perfect--monster.
+Oh dear! It's somebody, though. It must be. And he wants me. Oh, what
+_shall_ I do?"
+
+"Nonsense! You need not go. Aunty will see him, and send him off."
+
+"Oh, I do so hope he'll go; but I'm afraid he won't."
+
+After a short time Lady Dalrymple returned.
+
+"Really," said she, "this is a most extraordinary person. He speaks
+English, but not at all like an Englishman. I don't know who he is. He
+calls himself a Baron, but he doesn't seem to be a foreigner. I'm
+puzzled."
+
+"I hope he's gone," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"No--that's the worst of it. He won't go. He says he must see Minnie,
+and he won't tell his errand. I told him that he could not see you,
+but that I would tell you what he wanted, and that you were not at
+home. And what do you think he said?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, Dowdy dear."
+
+"Why, he said he had nothing to do, and would wait till you came back.
+And he took his seat in a way that showed that he meant to wait.
+Really, I'm quite at a loss what to do. You'll have to see him, Kitty
+dear."
+
+"What a strange person!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "It's _so_ rude. And
+don't you know what he is? How do you know he isn't an Italian?"
+
+"Oh, his English, you know. He speaks it perfectly, but not like an
+Englishman, you know, nor like a Scotchman either, or an Irishman. I
+wonder whether he may not be an American?"
+
+At this Minnie started.
+
+"Oh dear!" she said.
+
+"What's the matter, darling?"
+
+"An American! Oh dear! what _will_ become of me!"
+
+"Why," said Lady Dalrymple, "do you know him, then, after all?"
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ afraid that I know him!"
+
+"Who is it, dear?"
+
+"Oh, Dowdy! Oh, Kitty!"
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"It must be that man. Oh, was there _ever_ such a trouble--"
+
+"Really, Minnie dearest, you are allowing yourself to get too
+agitated. Who _is_ this person?"
+
+"He--he's--an--American."
+
+"An American? Why, I just said that I thought he might be one. I
+didn't know that you were acquainted with any."
+
+"Oh yes; I did get acquainted with some in--in Canada."
+
+"Oh; and is this man a Canadian?"
+
+"No, Dowdy darling; only an American."
+
+"Well, if he's a friend of yours, I suppose you know something about
+him. But how singular it is that you have so completely forgotten his
+name. Atramonte? Why, I'm sure it's a _very_ singular name for an
+American gentleman--at least it seems so to me--but I don't know much
+about them, you know. Tell me, darling, who is he?"
+
+"He--he saved my life."
+
+"What! saved your life? Why, my precious child, what _are_ you talking
+about? It was the Italian that saved your life, you know, not this
+one."
+
+"Oh, but he did too," said Minnie, despairingly. "I couldn't help it.
+He would do it. Papa was washed away. I wish they all wouldn't be so
+horrid."
+
+Lady Dalrymple looked in an equally despairing manner at Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+"What is it, Kitty dear? _Is_ the child insane, or what does she mean?
+How could this person have saved her life?"
+
+"That's just what distracts me," said Minnie. "They all do it. Every
+single person comes and saves my life. And now I suppose I must go
+down and see this person."
+
+"Well, really, since you say he saved your life, perhaps it would be
+as well not to be uncivil," said Lady Dalrymple; "but, at the same
+time, he seems to me to act in a very extraordinary manner. And he
+calls himself a Baron. Do they have nobles in America?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, Dowdy dear. I never knew that he was a Baron.
+He may have been the son of some American Baron; and--and--I'm sure I
+don't know."
+
+"Nonsense, Minnie dear," said Mrs. Willoughby. "This man's title is a
+foreign one. He probably obtained it in Italy or Spain, or perhaps
+Mexico. I think they have titles in Mexico, though I really don't
+know."
+
+"Why, of course, one isn't expected to know any thing about America,"
+said Lady Dalrymple. "I can mention quite a number of English
+statesmen, members of the cabinet, and others, who don't know any more
+about America than I do."
+
+"Do you really intend to go down yourself and see him, Minnie dear?"
+asked Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"How can I help it? What am I to do? I must go, Kitty darling. He is
+so very positive, and--and he insists so. I don't want to hurt his
+feelings, you know; and I really think there is nothing for me to do
+but to go. What do you think about it, Dowdy dear?" and she appealed
+to her aunt.
+
+"Well, Minnie, my child, I think it would be best not to be unkind or
+uncivil, since he saved your life."
+
+Upon this Minnie accompanied her sister to see the visitor.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby entered the room first, and Minnie was close behind
+her, as though she sought protection from some unknown peril. On
+entering the room they saw a man dressed in Zouave uniform. His hair
+was cropped short; he wore a mustache and no beard; his features were
+regular and handsome; while a pair of fine dark eyes were looking
+earnestly at the door, and the face and the eyes had the expression of
+one who is triumphantly awaiting the result of some agreeable
+surprise. Mrs. Willoughby at once recognized the stranger as the
+Zouave officer who had stared at them near the Church of the Jesuits.
+She advanced with lady-like grace toward him, when suddenly he stepped
+hastily past her, without taking any notice of her, and catching
+Minnie in his arms, he kissed her several times.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby started back in horror.
+
+Minnie did not resist, nor did she scream, or faint, or do any thing.
+She only looked a little confused, and managed to extricate herself,
+after which she took a seat as far away as she could, putting her
+sister between her and the Zouave. But the Zouave's joy was full, and
+he didn't appear to notice it. He settled himself in a chair, and
+laughed loud in his happiness.
+
+"Only to think of it," said he. "Why, I had no more idea of your being
+here, Minnie, than _Victory_. Well, here you see me. Only been here a
+couple of months or so. You got my last favor, of course? And ain't
+you regular knocked up to see me a Baron? Yes, a Baron--a real, live
+Baron! I'll tell you all about it. You see I was here two or three
+years ago--the time of Mentana--and fought on the Pope's side. Odd
+thing, too, wasn't it, for an American? But so it was. Well, they
+promoted me, and wanted me to stay. But I couldn't fix it. I had
+business off home, and was on my way there the time of the shipwreck.
+Well, I've been dodgin' all round every where since then, but never
+forgettin' little Min, mind you, and at last I found myself here, all
+right. I'd been speculatin' in wines and raisins, and just dropped in
+here to take pot-luck with some old Zouave friends, when, darn me! if
+they didn't make me stay. It seems there's squally times ahead. They
+wanted a live man. They knew I was that live man. They offered me any
+thing I wanted. They offered me the title of Baron Atramonte. That
+knocked me, I tell you. Says I, I'm your man. So now you see me Baron
+Atramonte, captain in the Papal Zouaves, ready to go where glory waits
+me--but fonder than ever of little Min. Oh, I tell you what, I ain't a
+bit of a brag, but I'm _some_ here. The men think I'm a little the
+tallest lot in the shape of a commander they ever _did_ see. When I'm
+in Rome I do as the Romans do, and so I let fly at them a speech every
+now and then. Why, I've gone through nearly the whole 'National
+Speaker' by this time. I've given them Marcellus's speech to the mob,
+Brutus's to the Romans, and Antony's over Caesar's dead body. I tried a
+bit of Cicero against Catiline, but I couldn't remember it very well.
+You know it, of course. _Quousque tandem_, you know."
+
+[Illustration:
+"CATCHING MINNIE IN HIS ARMS, HE KISSED HER SEVERAL TIMES."]
+
+"Well, Min, how goes it?" he continued. "This _is_ jolly; and, what's
+more, it's real good in you--darn me if it ain't! I knew you'd be
+regularly struck up all of a heap when you heard of me as a Baron, but
+I really didn't think you'd come all the way here to see me. And you
+do look stunning! You do beat all! And this lady? You haven't
+introduced me, you know."
+
+The Baron rose, and looked expectantly at Mrs. Willoughby, and then at
+Minnie. The latter faltered forth some words, among which the Baron
+caught the names Mrs. Willoughby and Rufus K. Gunn, the latter name
+pronounced, with the middle initial and all, in a queer, prim way.
+
+"Mrs. Willoughby--ah!--Min's sister, I presume. Well, I'm pleased to
+see you, ma'am. Do you know, ma'am, I have reason to remember your
+name? It's associated with the brightest hours of my life. It was in
+your parlor, ma'am, that I first obtained Min's promise of her hand.
+Your hand, madam."
+
+And, stooping down, he grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand, which was not
+extended, and wrung it so hard that she actually gave a little shriek.
+
+"For my part, ma'am," he continued, "I'm not ashamed of my name--not a
+mite. It's a good, honest name; but being as the Holy Father's gone
+and made me a noble, I prefer being addressed by my title. All
+Americans are above titles. They despise them. But being in Rome, you
+see, we must do as the Romans do; and so you needn't know me as Rufus
+K. Gunn, but as the Baron Atramonte. As for you, Min--you and I won't
+stand on ceremony--you may call me 'Roof,' or any other name you
+fancy. I would suggest some pet name--something a little loving, you
+know."
+
+In the midst of all this, which was poured forth with extreme
+volubility, the servant came and handed a card.
+
+"Count Girasole."
+
+[Illustration: "HAWBURY, AS I'M A LIVING SINNER!"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE AMERICAN BARON.
+
+
+At any other time Mrs. Willoughby would perhaps have manoeuvred Minnie
+out of the room; but on the present occasion the advent of the Italian
+was an inexpressible relief. Mrs. Willoughby was not prepared for a
+scene like this. The manners, the language, and the acts of Rufus K.
+Gunn had filled her with simple horror. She was actually bewildered,
+and her presence of mind was utterly gone. As for Minnie, she was
+quite helpless, and sat, looking frightened. The Baron Atramonte might
+have been one of the excellent of the earth--he might have been brave
+and loyal and just and true and tender, but his manner was one to
+which they were unaccustomed, and consequently Mrs. Willoughby was
+quite overcome.
+
+The arrival of Girasole, therefore, was greeted by her with joy. She
+at once rose to meet him, and could not help infusing into her
+greeting a warmth which she had never shown him before. Girasole's
+handsome eyes sparkled with delight, and when Mrs. Willoughby
+pointedly made way for him to seat himself next to Minnie his cup of
+joy was full. Mrs. Willoughby's only idea at that moment was to throw
+some obstacle between Minnie and that "dreadful person" who claimed
+her as his own, and had taken such shocking liberties. She did not
+know that Girasole was in Rome, and now accepted his arrival at that
+opportune moment as something little less than providential.
+
+And now, actuated still by the idea of throwing further obstacles
+between Minnie and the Baron, she herself went over to the latter, and
+began a series of polite remarks about the weather and about Rome;
+while Girasole, eager to avail himself of his unexpected privilege,
+conversed with Minnie in a low voice in his broken English.
+
+This arrangement was certainly not very agreeable to the Baron. His
+flow of spirits seemed to be checked at once, and his volubility
+ceased. He made only monosyllabic answers to Mrs. Willoughby's
+remarks, and his eyes kept wandering, over beyond her to Minnie, and
+scrutinizing the Italian who was thus monopolizing her at the very
+moment when he was beginning to have a "realizing sense" of her
+presence. He looked puzzled. He could not understand it at all. He
+felt that some wrong was done by somebody. He fell into an ungracious
+mood. He hated the Italian who had thus come between him and his
+happiness, and who chatted with Minnie, in his abominable broken
+English, just like an old acquaintance. He couldn't understand it. He
+felt an unpleasant restraint thrown over him, and began to meditate a
+departure, and a call at some more favorable time later in the
+evening. But he wanted to have a few more words with "Min," and so he
+tried to "sit out" the Italian.
+
+But the Italian was as determined as the American. It was the first
+chance that he had had to get a word with Minnie since he was in
+Milan, and he was eager to avail himself of it. Mrs. Willoughby, on
+her part, having thus discomfited the Baron, was not unmindful of the
+other danger; so she moved her seat to a position near enough to
+overlook and check Girasole, and then resumed those formal, chilling,
+heartless, but perfectly polite remarks which she had been
+administering to the Baron since Girasole's arrival.
+
+At length Mrs. Willoughby began to be dreadfully bored, and groaned in
+spirit over the situation in which Minnie had placed herself, and
+racked her brains to find some way of retreat from these two
+determined lovers, who thus set at naught the usages of society for
+their own convenience. She grew indignant. She wondered if they would
+_ever_ go. She wondered if it were not possible to engage the Count
+and the Baron in a conversation by themselves, and, under cover of it,
+withdraw. Finally she began to think whether she would not be
+justified in being rude to them, since they were so inconsiderate. She
+thought over this, and was rapidly coming to the decision that some
+act of rudeness was her only hope, when, to her immense relief, the
+servant entered and announced Lord Hawbury.
+
+The entrance of the welcome guest into the room where the unwelcome
+ones were seated was to Mrs. Willoughby like light in a dark place. To
+Minnie also it brought immense relief in her difficult position. The
+ladies rose, and were about to greet the new-comer, when, to their
+amazement, the Baron sprang forward, caught Lord Hawbury's hand, and
+wrung it over and over again with the most astonishing vehemence.
+
+"Hawbury, as I'm a living sinner! Thunderation! Where did you come
+from? Good again! Darn it all, Hawbury, this is real good! And how
+well you look! _How_ are you? All right, and right side up? Who'd have
+thought it? It ain't you, really, now, is it? Darn me if I ever was so
+astonished in my life! You're the last man I'd have expected. Yes,
+_Sir_. You may bet high on that."
+
+"Ah, really," said Hawbury, "my dear fellow! Flattered, I'm sure. And
+how goes it with you? Deuced odd place to find you, old boy. And I'm
+deuced glad to see you, you know, and all that sort of thing."
+
+And he wrung the Baron's hand quite as heartily as the other wrung
+his; and the expression on his face was of as much cordiality and
+pleasure as that upon the face of the other. Then Hawbury greeted the
+ladies, and apologized by stating that the Baron was a very old and
+tried friend, whom he had not seen for years; which intelligence
+surprised Mrs. Willoughby greatly, and brought a faint ray of
+something like peace to poor Minnie.
+
+The ladies were not imprisoned much longer. Girasole threw a black
+look at Lord Hawbury, and retreated. After a few moments' chat Hawbury
+also retired, and made the Baron go with him. And the Baron went
+without any urging. He insisted, however, on shaking hands heartily
+with both of the ladies, especially Minnie, whose poor little hand he
+nearly crushed into a pulp; and to the latter he whispered the
+consoling assurance that he would come to see her on the following
+day. After which he followed his friend out.
+
+Then he took Hawbury over to his own quarters, and Hawbury made
+himself very much at home in a rocking-chair, which the Baron regarded
+as the pride and joy and glory of his room.
+
+"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "This is deuced odd, do you know, old chap;
+and I can't imagine how the mischief you got here!"
+
+This led to long explanations, and a long conversation, which was
+protracted far into the night, to the immense enjoyment of both of the
+friends.
+
+The Baron was, as Lord Hawbury had said, an old friend. He had become
+acquainted with him many years before upon the prairies of America,
+near the Rocky Mountains. The Baron had rescued him from Indians, by
+whom he had been entrapped, and the two friends had wandered far over
+those regions, enduring perils, fighting enemies, and roughing it in
+general. This rough life had made each one's better nature visible to
+the other, and had led to the formation of a friendship full of mutual
+appreciation of the other's best qualities. Now it is just possible
+that if they had not known one another, Hawbury might have thought the
+Baron a boor, and the Baron might have called Hawbury a "thundering
+snob;" but as it was, the possible boor and the possible snob each
+thought the other one of the finest fellows in the world.
+
+"But you're not a Roman Catholic," said Hawbury, as the Baron
+explained his position among the Zouaves.
+
+"What's the odds? All's fish that comes to their net. To get an office
+in the Church may require a profession of faith, but we're not so
+particular in the army. I take the oath, and they let me go. Besides,
+I have Roman Catholic leanings."
+
+"Roman Catholic leanings?"
+
+"Yes; I like the Pope. He's a fine man, Sir--a fine man. I regard that
+man more like a father than any thing else. There isn't one of us but
+would lay down our lives for that old gentleman."
+
+"But you never go to confession, and you're not a member of the
+Church."
+
+"No; but then I'm a member of the army, and I have long chats with
+some of the English-speaking priests. There are some first-rate
+fellows among them, too. Yes, Sir."
+
+"I don't see much of a leaning in all that."
+
+"Leaning? Why, it's all leaning. Why, look here. I remember the time
+when I was a grim, true-blue Puritan. Well, I ain't that now. I used
+to think the Pope was the Beast of the 'Pocalypse. Well, now I think
+he's the finest old gentleman I ever saw. I didn't use to go to
+Catholic chapel. Well, now I'm there often, and I rather kind o' like
+it. Besides, I'm ready to argue with them all day and all night, and
+what more can they expect from a fighting man?
+
+"You see, after our war I got my hand in, and couldn't stop fighting.
+The Indians wouldn't do--too much throat-cutting and savagery. So I
+came over here, took a fancy to the Pope, enlisted, was at Mentana,
+fit there, got promoted, went home, couldn't stand it, and here I am,
+back again; though how long I'm going to be here is more'n I can tell.
+The fact is, I feel kind of onsettled."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Oh, it's an aggravating place, at the best."
+
+"How?"
+
+"There's such an everlasting waste of resources--such tarnation bad
+management. Fact is, I've noted that it's always the case wherever you
+trust ministers to do business. They're sure to make a mess of it.
+I've known lots of cases. Why, that's always the way with us. Look at
+our stock-companies of any kind, our religious societies, and our
+publishing houses--wherever they get a ministerial committee, the
+whole concern goes to blazes. I _know_ that. Yes, _Sir_. Now that's
+the case here. Here's a fine country. Why, round this here city there's
+a country, Sir, that, if properly managed, might beat any of our
+prairies--and look at it.
+
+"Then, again, they complain of poverty. Why, I can tell you, from my
+own observation, that they've got enough capital locked up, lying
+useless, in this here city, to regenerate it all, and put it on its
+feet. This capital wants to be utilized. It's been lying too long
+without paying interest. It's time that it stopped. Why, I tell you
+what it is, if they were to sell out what they have here lying idle,
+and realize, they'd get enough money to form an endowment fund for the
+Pope and his court so big that his Holiness and every official in the
+place might get salaries all round out of the interest that would
+enable them to live like--well, I was going to say like princes, but
+there's a lot of princes in Rome that live so shabby that the
+comparison ain't worth nothing.
+
+"Why, see here, now," continued the Baron, warming with his theme,
+which seemed to be a congenial one; "just look here; see the position
+of this Roman court. They can actually levy taxes on the whole world.
+Voluntary contributions, Sir, are a wonderful power. Think of our
+missionary societies--our Sabbath-school organizations in the States.
+Think of the wealth, the activity, and the action of all our great
+charitable, philanthropic, and religious bodies. What supports them
+all? Voluntary contributions. Now what I mean to say is this--I mean
+to say that if a proper organization was arranged here, they could get
+annual receipts from the whole round globe that would make the Pope
+the richest man on it. Why, in that case Rothschild wouldn't be a
+circumstance. The Pope might go into banking himself, and control the
+markets of the world. But no. There's a lot of ministers here, and
+they haven't any head for it. I wish they'd give me a chance. I'd make
+things spin.
+
+"Then, again, they've got other things here that's ruining them.
+There's too much repression, and that don't do for the immortal mind.
+My idea is that every man was created free and equal, and has a right
+to do just as he darn pleases; but you can't beat that into the heads
+of the governing class here. No, Sir. The fact is, what Rome wants is
+a republic. It'll come, too, some day. The great mistake of his
+Holiness's life is that he didn't put himself at the head of the
+movement in '48. He had the chance, but he got frightened, and backed
+down. Whereas if he had been a real, live Yankee, now--if he had been
+like some of our Western parsons--he'd have put himself on the tiptop
+of the highest wave, and gone in. Why, he could have had all Italy at
+his right hand by this time, instead of having it all against him.
+There's where he made his little mistake. If I were Pope I'd fight the
+enemy with their own weapons. I'd accept the situation. I'd go in head
+over heels for a republic. I'd have Rome the capital, myself
+president, Garibaldi commander-in-chief, Mazzini secretary of state--a
+man, Sir, that can lick even Bill Seward himself in a regular,
+old-fashioned, tonguey, subtile, diplomatic note. And in that case,
+with a few live men at the head of affairs, where would Victor Emanuel
+be? Emphatically, nowhere!
+
+"Why, Sir," continued the Baron, "I'd engage to take this city as it
+is, and the office of Pope, and run the whole Roman Catholic Church,
+till it knocked out all opposition by the simple and natural process
+of absorbing all opponents. We want a republic here in Rome. We want
+freedom, Sir. Where is the Church making its greatest triumphs to-day?
+In the States, Sir. If the Catholic Church made itself free and
+liberal and go-ahead; if it kept up with the times; if it was imbued
+with the spirit of progress, and pitched aside all old-fashioned
+traditions--why, I tell you, Sir, it would be a little the tallest
+organization on this green globe of ours. Yes, _Sir!_"
+
+While Hawbury and the Baron were thus engaged in high discourse, Mrs.
+Willoughby and Minnie were engaged in discourses of a less elevated
+but more engrossing character.
+
+After the ladies had escaped they went up stairs. Lady Dalrymple had
+retired some time before to her own room, and they had the apartment
+to themselves. Minnie flung herself into a chair and looked
+bewildered; Mrs. Willoughby took another chair opposite, and said
+nothing for a long time.
+
+"Well," said Minnie at last, "you needn't be so cross, Kitty; I didn't
+bring him here."
+
+"Cross!" said her sister; "I'm not cross."
+
+"Well, you're showing temper, at any rate; and you know you are, and I
+think it very unkind in you, when I have so much to trouble me."
+
+"Why, really, Minnie darling, I don't know what to say."
+
+"Well, why don't you tell me what you think of him, and all that sort
+of thing? You _might_, you know."
+
+"Think of him!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, elevating her eyebrows.
+
+"Yes, think of him; and you needn't go and make faces about him, at
+any rate."
+
+"Did I make faces? Well, dear," said Mrs. Willoughby, patiently, "I'll
+tell you what I think of him. I'm afraid of him."
+
+"Well, then," said Minnie, in a tone of triumph, "now you know how I
+feel. Suppose he saved your life, and then came in his awfully
+boisterous way to see you; and got you alone, and began that way, and
+really quite overwhelmed you, you know; and then, when you were really
+almost stunned, suppose he went and proposed to you? Now, then!"
+
+And Minnie ended this question with the air of one who could not be
+answered, and knew it.
+
+"He's awful--perfectly awful!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "And the way he
+treated you! It was _so_ shocking."
+
+"I know; and that's just the horrid way he _always_ does," said
+Minnie, in a plaintive tone. "I'm sure _I_ don't know what to do with
+him. And then he's Lord Hawbury's friend. So what _are_ we to do?"
+
+[Illustration: "LOOK AT THE MAN!"]
+
+"I don't know, unless we leave Rome at once."
+
+"But I don't _want_ to leave Rome," said Minnie. "I hate being chased
+away from places by people--and they'd be sure to follow me, you
+know--and I don't know what to do. And oh, Kitty darling, I've just
+thought of something. It would be so nice. What do you think of it?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why, this. You know the Pope?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Oh, well, you've seen him, you know."
+
+"Yes; but what has he got to do with it?"
+
+"Why, I'll get you to take me, and I'll go to him, and tell him all
+about it, and about all these horrid men; and I'll ask him if he can't
+do something or other to help me. They have dispensations and things,
+you know, that the Pope gives; and I want him to let me dispense with
+these awful people."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I don't see any nonsense in it at all. I'm in earnest," said Minnie;
+"and I think it's a great shame."
+
+"Nonsense!" said her sister again; "the only thing is for you to stay
+in your room."
+
+"But I don't want to stay in my room, and I can't."
+
+"Oh dear! what can I do with this child?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby,
+whose patience was giving way.
+
+Upon this Minnie went over and kissed her, and begged to be forgiven;
+and offered to do any thing that darling Kitty wanted her to do.
+
+After this they talked a good deal over their difficulty, but without
+being able to see their way out of it more clearly.
+
+That evening they were walking up and down the balcony of the house.
+It was a quadrangular edifice, and they had a suite of rooms on the
+second and third stories. They were on the balcony of the third story,
+which looked down into the court-yard below. A fountain was in the
+middle of this, and the moon was shining brightly.
+
+The ladies were standing looking down, when Minnie gently touched her
+sister's arm, and whispered,
+
+"Look at the man!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"By the fountain."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked, and saw the face of a man who was standing on
+the other side of the fountain. His head rose above it, and his face
+was turned toward them. He evidently did not know that he was seen,
+but was watching the ladies, thinking that he himself was unobserved.
+The moment that Mrs. Willoughby looked at the face she recognized it.
+
+"Come in," said she to Minnie. And drawing her sister after her, she
+went into the house.
+
+"I knew the face; didn't you, Kitty dear?" said Minnie. "It's so easy
+to tell it. It was Scone Dacres. But what in the world does he want?
+Oh dear! I hope _he_ won't bother me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE INTRUDER.
+
+
+Judging from the Baron's own words, it will be perceived that his
+comprehension of the situation was a little different from the actual
+fact. His idea was that his last letter had been received by Minnie in
+England, whereupon she had been seized with such an ungovernable
+longing to see him that she at once set out for Rome. She had not sent
+him any message, for she wished to surprise him. She had done so
+effectually. He was not merely surprised; he was overwhelmed,
+overjoyed, intoxicated with joy. This was indeed kind, he thought--the
+true part of a fond girl, who thus cast aside all silly scruples, and
+followed the dictates of her own noble and loving heart.
+
+Now the fact that he had made a partial failure of his first visit to
+his charmer did not in the slightest degree disconcert him. He was
+naturally joyous, hilarious, and sanguine. His courage never faltered,
+nor could the brightness of his soul be easily dimmed. A
+disappointment on one day gave him but little trouble. It was quickly
+thrown off, and then his buoyant spirit looked forward for better
+fortune on the next day. The little disappointment which he had did
+not, therefore, prevent him from letting his reason feast and his soul
+flow with Lord Hawbury; nor, when that festive season was over, did it
+prevent him from indulging in the brightest anticipations for the
+following day.
+
+On the afternoon of that day, then, the Baron directed his steps
+toward the hotel where his charmer resided, his heart beating high,
+and the generous blood mantling his cheek, and all that sort of thing.
+But the Baron was not alone. He had a companion, and this companion
+was an acquaintance whom he had made that morning. This companion was
+very tall, very thin, very sallow, with long, straggling locks of
+rusty black hair, white neck-tie, and a suit of rather seedy black
+clothes. In fact, it was the very stranger who had been arrested
+almost under his eyes as a Garibaldian. His case had come under the
+notice of the Baron, who had visited him, and found him not to be a
+Garibaldian at all, but a fellow-countryman in distress--in short, no
+less a person than the Reverend Saul Tozer, an esteemed clergyman, who
+had been traveling through Europe for the benefit of his health and
+the enlargement of his knowledge. This fellow-countryman in distress
+had at once been released by the Baron's influence; and, not content
+with giving him his liberty, he determined to take him under his
+protection, and offered to introduce him to society; all of which
+generous offices were fully appreciated by the grateful clergyman.
+
+The Baron's steps were first directed toward the place above
+mentioned, and the Reverend Saul accompanied him. On reaching it he
+knocked, and asked for Miss Fay.
+
+"Not at home," was the reply.
+
+"Oh, well," said he, "I'll go in and wait till she comes home. Come
+along, parson, and make yourself quite at home. Oh, never mind, young
+man," he continued to the servant; "I know the way. Come along,
+parson." And with these words he led the way into the reception-room,
+in which he had been before.
+
+An elderly lady was seated there whom the Baron recognized as having
+seen before. It was Lady Dalrymple, whose name was, of course, unknown
+to him, since he had only exchanged a few words on his former visit.
+But as he was naturally chivalrous, and as he was bent on making
+friends with all in the house, and as he was also in a glorious state
+of good-will to the entire human race, he at once advanced to the lady
+and made a low bow.
+
+"How do you do, ma'am?"
+
+Lady Dalrymple bowed good-naturedly, for she was good-natured to a
+fault.
+
+"I suppose you remember me, ma'am," said the Baron, in rather a loud
+voice; for, as the lady was elderly, he had a vague idea that she was
+deaf--which impression, I may mention, was altogether unfounded--"I
+suppose you remember me, ma'am? But I haven't had the pleasure of a
+regular introduction to you; so we'll waive ceremony, if you choose,
+and I'll introduce myself. I'm the Baron Atramonte, and this is my
+very particular friend, the Reverend Saul Tozer."
+
+"I'm happy to make your acquaintance," said Lady Dalrymple, with a
+smile, and not taking the Baron's offered hand--not, however, from
+pride, but simply from laziness--for she hated the bother, and didn't
+consider it good taste.
+
+"I called here, ma'am," said the Baron, without noticing that Lady
+Dalrymple had not introduced _herself_--"I called here, ma'am, to see
+my young friend, Miss Minnie Fay. I'm very sorry that she ain't at
+home; but since I _am_ here, I rather think I'll just set down and
+wait for her. I s'pose you couldn't tell me, ma'am, about how long
+it'll be before she comes in?"
+
+Lady Dalrymple hadn't any idea.
+
+"All right," said the Baron; "the longer she keeps me waiting, the
+more welcome she'll be when she does come. That's all I've got to
+say."
+
+So the Baron handed a chair to the Reverend Saul, and then selecting
+another for himself in a convenient position, he ensconced himself in
+it as snugly as possible, and sat in silence for a few minutes. Lady
+Dalrymple took no notice of him whatever, but appeared to be engrossed
+with some trifle of needle-work.
+
+After about five minutes the Baron resumed the task of making himself
+agreeable.
+
+He cleared his throat.
+
+"Long in these parts, ma'am?" he asked.
+
+"Not very long," said Lady Dalrymple, with her usual bland
+good-nature.
+
+"A nice place this," continued the Baron.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And do you keep your health, ma'am?" inquired the Baron, with some
+anxiety.
+
+"Thanks," said Lady Dalrymple; which observation set the Baron's mind
+wondering what she meant by that.
+
+"Pray, ma'am," said he, after a pause, "might you be any relation to a
+young lady friend of mine that's staying here named Minnie Fay?"
+
+"A little," said Lady Dalrymple; which remark set the Baron again
+wondering. And he was about to return to the charge with another and
+more direct question, when his attention was arrested by the sound of
+footsteps on the stairs; so he sat bolt upright, and stared hard at
+the door. There was the rustle of a dress. The Baron rose. So did the
+Reverend Saul Tozer. The lady appeared. It was not Minnie. It was Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+Now during the Baron's visit there had been some excitement up stairs.
+The ladies had told the servants that they were not at home to any
+callers that day. They had found with consternation how carelessly the
+Baron had brushed aside their little cobweb regulation, and had heard
+his voice as he strove to keep up an easy conversation with their
+aunt. Whereupon an earnest debate arose. They felt that it was not
+fair to leave their aunt alone with the Baron, and that one of them
+should go to the rescue. To Mrs. Willoughby's amazement, Minnie was
+anxious to go. To this she utterly objected. Minnie insisted, and Mrs.
+Willoughby was in despair. In vain she reproached that most whimsical
+of young ladies. In vain she reminded her of the Baron's rudeness on a
+former occasion. Minnie simply reminded her that the Baron had saved
+her life. At last Mrs. Willoughby actually had to resort to
+entreaties, and thus she persuaded Minnie not to go down. So she went
+down herself, but in fear and trembling, for she did not know at what
+moment her voluble and utterly unreliable sister might take it into
+her head to follow her.
+
+The Baron, who had risen, full of expectation, stood looking at her,
+full of disappointment, which was very strongly marked on his face.
+Then he recollected that Minnie was "not at home," and that he must
+wait till she did get home. This thought, and the hope that he would
+not now have long to wait, brought back his friendly glow, and his
+calm and his peace and his good-will toward the whole human race,
+including the ladies in the room. He therefore bowed very low, and,
+advancing, he made an effort to shake hands; but Mrs. Willoughby had
+already known the dread pressure which the Baron gave, and evaded him
+by a polite bow. Thereupon the Baron introduced the Reverend Saul
+Tozer.
+
+The Baron took out his watch, looked at it, frowned, coughed, put it
+back, and then drummed with his fingers on the arm of the chair.
+
+"Will it be long, ma'am," asked the Baron, "before Minnie gets back?"
+
+"She is not out," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Not out?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, the thundering fool of a servant went and told me that she was
+not at home!"
+
+"She is at home," said Mrs. Willoughby, sweetly.
+
+"What! at home!" cried the Baron. "And does she know _I'm_ here?"
+
+"She does."
+
+"Then why in thunder don't she come down?" cried the Baron,
+wonderingly.
+
+"Because she is indisposed."
+
+"Indisposed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+This was the information which Mrs. Willoughby had decided to give to
+the Baron. Minnie had stipulated that his feelings should not be hurt;
+and this seemed to her to be the easiest mode of dealing with him.
+
+"Indisposed!" cried the Baron.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh dear! Oh, I hope, ma'am--I do hope, ma'am, that she ain't very
+bad. Is it any thing serious--or what?"
+
+"Not _very_ serious; she has to keep her room, though."
+
+"She ain't sick abed, I hope?"
+
+"Oh no--not so bad as that!"
+
+"Oh dear! it's all _me_, I know. _I'm_ to blame. She made this
+journey--the poor little pet!--just to see me; and the fatigue and the
+excitement have all been too much. Oh, I might have known it! Oh, I
+remember now how pale she looked yesterday! Oh dear! what'll I do if
+any thing happens to her? Oh, do tell me--is she better?--did she pass
+a good night?--does she suffer any pain?--can I do any thing for
+her?--will you take a little message from me to her?"
+
+"She is quite easy now, thanks," said Mrs. Willoughby; "but we have to
+keep her perfectly quiet; the slightest excitement may be dangerous."
+
+Meanwhile the Reverend Saul had become wearied with sitting dumb, and
+began to look around for some suitable means of taking part in the
+conversation. As the Baron had introduced him to society, he felt that
+it was his duty to take some part so as to assert himself both as a
+man, a scholar, and a clergyman. So, as he found the Baron was
+monopolizing Mrs. Willoughby, he gradually edged over till he came
+within ear-shot of Lady Dalrymple, and then began to work his way
+toward a conversation.
+
+"This, ma'am," he began, "is truly an interesting spot."
+
+Lady Dalrymple bowed.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. I've been for the past few days surveying the ruins of
+antiquity. It is truly a soul-stirring spectacle."
+
+"So I have heard," remarked Lady Dalrymple, cheerfully.
+
+"Every thing around us, ma'am," continued the Reverend Saul, in a
+dismal voice, "is subject to dissolution, or is actually dissolving.
+How forcible air the words of the Psalmist: 'Our days air as the
+grass, or like the morning flower; when blasting winds sweep o'er the
+vale, they wither in an hour.' Yes, ma'am, I have this week stood in
+the Roman Forum. The Coliseum, also, ma'am, is a wonderful place. It
+was built by the Flavian emperors, and when completed could hold
+eighty thousand spectators seated, with about twenty thousand
+standing. In hot weather these spectators were protected from the rays
+of the sun by means of awnings. It is a mighty fabric, ma'am!"
+
+"I should think so," said Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"The arch of Titus, ma'am, is a fine ruin. It was originally built by
+the emperor of that name to commemorate the conquest of Jerusalem. The
+arch of Septimius Severus was built by the Emperor of that name, and
+the arch of Constantine was built by the emperor of _that_ name. They
+are all very remarkable structures."
+
+"I'm charmed to hear you say so."
+
+"It's true, ma'am; but let me add, ma'am, that the ruins of this
+ancient city do not offer to my eyes a spectacle half so melancholy as
+the great moral ruin which is presented by the modern city. For,
+ma'am, when I look around, what do I see? I behold the Babylon of the
+Apocalypse! Pray, ma'am, have you ever reflected much on that?"
+
+"Not to any great extent," said Lady Dalrymple, who now began to feel
+bored, and so arose to her feet. The Reverend Saul Tozer was just
+getting on a full head of conversational steam, and was just fairly
+under way, when this sad and chilling occurrence took place. She rose
+and bowed to the gentlemen, and began to retreat.
+
+All this time the Baron had been pouring forth to Mrs. Willoughby his
+excited interrogatories about Minnie's health, and had asked her to
+take a message. This Mrs. Willoughby refused at first.
+
+"Oh no!" said she; "it will really disturb her too much. What she
+wants most is perfect quiet. Her health is really _very_ delicate, and
+I am _excessively_ anxious about her."
+
+"But does she--does she--is she--can she walk about her own room?"
+stammered the Baron.
+
+"A little," said Mrs. Willoughby. "Oh, I hope in a few weeks she may
+be able to come down. But the very _greatest_ care and quiet are
+needed, for she is in such a _very_ delicate state that we watch her
+night and day."
+
+"A few weeks!" echoed the Baron, in dismay. "Watch her night and day!"
+
+"Oh, you know, it is the only chance for her recovery. She is _so_
+delicate."
+
+The Baron looked at Mrs. Willoughby with a pale face, upon which there
+was real suffering and real misery.
+
+"Can't I do something?" he gasped. "Won't you take a message to her?
+It ought to do her good. Perhaps she thinks I'm neglecting her.
+Perhaps she thinks I ain't here enough. Tell her I'm ready to give up
+my office, and even my title of nobility, and come and live here, if
+it'll be any comfort to her."
+
+"Oh, really, Sir, you _quite_ mistake her," said Mrs. Willoughby. "It
+has no reference to you whatever. It's a nervous affection,
+accompanied with general debility and neuralgia."
+
+"Oh no, you don't know her," said the Baron, incredulously. "I _know_
+her. I know what it is. But she walks, don't she?"
+
+"Yes, a little--just across the room; still, even that is too much.
+She is _very, very_ weak, and must be _quite_ kept free from
+excitement. Even the excitement of your visits is bad for her. Her
+pulse is--is--always--accelerated--and--she--I--Oh, dear me!"
+
+While Mrs. Willoughby had been making up this last sentence she was
+startled by a rustling on the stairs. It was the rustle of a female's
+dress. An awful thought occurred to her, which distracted her, and
+confused her in the middle of her sentence, and made her scarce able
+to articulate her words. And as she spoke them the rustle drew nearer,
+and she heard the sound of feet descending the stairs, until at last
+the footsteps approached the door, and Mrs. Willoughby, to her utter
+horror, saw Minnie herself.
+
+Now as to the Baron, in the course of his animated conversation with
+Mrs. Willoughby, and in his excited entreaties to her to carry a
+message up to the invalid, he had turned round with his back to the
+door. It was about the time that Lady Dalrymple had begun to beat a
+retreat. As she advanced the Baron saw her, and, with his usual
+politeness, moved ever so far to one side, bowing low as he did so.
+Lady Dalrymple passed, the Baron raised himself, and as Mrs.
+Willoughby was yet speaking, and had just reached the exclamation
+which concluded her last remark, he was astounded by the sudden
+appearance of Minnie herself at the door.
+
+The effect of this sudden appearance was overwhelming. Mrs. Willoughby
+stood thunder-struck, and the Baron utterly bewildered. The latter
+recovered his faculties first. It was just as Lady Dalrymple was
+passing out. With a bound he sprang toward Minnie, and caught her in
+his arms, uttering a series of inarticulate cries.
+
+"Oh, Min! and you did come down, did you? And you couldn't stay up
+there, could you? I wanted to send a message to you. Poor little Min!
+you're so weak. Is it any thing serious? Oh, my darling little Min!
+But sit down on this here seat. Don't stand; you're too weak. Why
+didn't you send, and I'd have carried you down? But tell me now,
+honest, wasn't it _me_ that brought this on? Never mind, I'll never
+leave you again."
+
+This is the style which the gallant Baron adopted to express his
+sentiments concerning Minnie; and the result was that he succeeded in
+giving utterance to words that were quite as incoherent as any that
+Minnie herself, in her most rambling moods, had ever uttered.
+
+The Baron now gave himself up to joy. He took no notice of any body.
+He sat by Minnie's side on a sofa, and openly held her hand. The
+Reverend Saul Tozer looked on with an approving smile, and surveyed
+the scene like a father. Mrs. Willoughby's soul was on fire with
+indignation at Minnie's folly and the Baron's impudence. She was also
+indignant that her little conventional falsehoods had been suddenly
+disproved by the act of Minnie herself. Yet she did not know what to
+say, and so she went to a chair, and flung herself into it in fierce
+anger.
+
+As for Minnie herself, she had come down to the Baron, and appeared
+rather to enjoy the situation. She talked about Rome and Naples, and
+asked him all about himself, and the Baron explained his whole
+situation down to the minutest detail. She was utterly indifferent to
+her sister. Once or twice the Baron made a move to go, but did not
+succeed. He finally settled himself down apparently for the rest of
+the day; but Mrs. Willoughby at last interposed. She walked forward.
+She took Minnie's hand, and spoke to her in a tone which she but
+seldom used.
+
+"You shall _not_ stay here any longer!" she cried. "Come."
+
+And Minnie obeyed at once.
+
+The Baron insisted on a tender adieu. Mrs. Willoughby stood by, with
+flashing eyes and heaving breast.
+
+Minnie followed her up stairs in silence.
+
+"You silly child!" she cried. "Are you mad? What made you come down?
+You broke your promise!"
+
+"Well--well--I couldn't help it, and he is so deliciously rude; and do
+you know, Kitty dearest, I really begin to feel quite fond of him."
+
+"Now listen, child. You shall never see him again."
+
+"I don't see why not," whimpered Minnie.
+
+"And I'm going to telegraph to papa. I wouldn't have the
+responsibility of you another week for the world."
+
+"Now, Kitty, you're horrid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE BARON'S ASSAULTS.
+
+
+On the eventful afternoon when the Baron had effected an entrance into
+the heart of the enemy's country, another caller had come there--one
+equally intent and equally determined, but not quite so aggressive.
+This was the Count Girasole. The same answer was given to him which
+had been given to the Baron, but with far different effect. The Baron
+had carelessly brushed the slight obstacle aside. To the Count it was
+an impenetrable barrier. It was a bitter disappointment, too; for he
+had been filled with the brightest hopes and expectations by the
+reception with which he had met on his last visit. That reception had
+made him believe that they had changed their sentiments and their
+attitude toward him, and that for the future he would be received in
+the same fashion. He had determined, therefore, to make the most of
+this favorable change, and so he at once repeated his call. This time,
+however, his hopes were crushed. What made it worse, he had seen the
+entrance of the Baron and the Reverend Saul, and knew by this that
+instead of being a favored mortal in the eyes of these ladies, he was
+really, in their estimation, placed below these comparative strangers.
+By the language of Lord Hawbury on his previous call, he knew that the
+acquaintance of the Baron with Mrs. Willoughby was but recent.
+
+The disappointment of the Count filled him with rage, and revived all
+his old feelings and plans and projects. The Count was not one who
+could suffer in silence. He was a crafty, wily, subtle, scheming
+Italian, whose fertile brain was full of plans to achieve his desires,
+and who preferred to accomplish his aims by a tortuous path, rather
+than by a straight one. This repulse revived old projects, and he took
+his departure with several little schemes in his mind, some of which,
+at least, were destined to bear fruit afterward.
+
+On the following day the Baron called once more. The ladies in the
+mean time had talked over the situation, but were unable to see what
+they were to do with a man who insisted on forcing his way into their
+house. Their treatment would have been easy enough if it had not been
+for Minnie. She insisted that they should not be unkind to him. He had
+saved her life, she said, and she could not treat him with rudeness.
+Lady Dalrymple was in despair, and Mrs. Willoughby at her wit's end,
+while Ethel, to whom the circumstance was made known, was roused by it
+from her sadness, and tried to remonstrate with Minnie. All her
+efforts, however, were as vain as those of her friends. Minnie could
+not be induced to take any decided stand. She insisted on seeing him
+whenever he called, on the ground that it would be unkind not to.
+
+"And will you insist on seeing Girasole also?" asked Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I don't know. I'm awfully sorry for him," said Minnie.
+
+"Well, then, Captain Kirby will be here next. Of course you will see
+him?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Minnie, resignedly.
+
+"And how long do you think this sort of thing can go on? They'll meet,
+and blood will be shed."
+
+"Oh dear! I'm afraid so."
+
+"Then I'm not going to allow it. I've telegraphed to papa. He'll see
+whether you are going to have your own way or not."
+
+"I'm sure I don't see what dear papa can do."
+
+"He won't let you see those horrid men."
+
+"He won't be cruel enough to lock me up in the house. I do wish he
+would come and take me away. I don't want them. They're all horrid."
+
+[Illustration: "MIN, IT'S ME!"]
+
+"This last one--this Gunn--is the most terrible man I ever saw."
+
+"Oh, Kitty dearest! How _can_ you say so? Why, his rudeness and
+violence are perfectly irresistible. He's charming. He bullies one so
+deliciously."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby at this turned away in despair.
+
+Minnie's very peculiar situation was certainly one which required a
+speedy change. The forced entrance of the Baron had thrown
+consternation into the family. Ethel herself had been roused, and took
+a part in the debate. She began to see Minnie in a new light, and
+Hawbury's attention to her began to assume the appearance of a very
+mournful joke. To her mind Minnie was now the subject of desperate
+attention from five men.
+
+Thus:
+
+1. Lord Hawbury.
+
+2. Count Girasole.
+
+3. Scone Dacres.
+
+4. Baron Atramonte.
+
+5. Captain Kirby, of whom Mrs. Willoughby had just told her.
+
+And of these, four had saved her life, and consequently had the
+strongest possible claims on her.
+
+And the only satisfaction which Ethel could gain out of this was the
+thought that Hawbury, at least, had not saved Minnie's life.
+
+And now to proceed.
+
+The Baron called, as has been said, on the following day. This time he
+did not bring the Reverend Saul with him. He wished to see Minnie
+alone, and felt the presence of third persons to be rather unpleasant.
+
+On reaching the place he was told, as before, that the ladies were not
+at home.
+
+Now the Baron remembered that on the preceding day the servant had
+said the same, while all the time the ladies were home. He was
+charitably inclined to suppose that it was a mistake, and not a
+deliberate lie; and, as he was in a frame of good-will to mankind, he
+adopted this first theory.
+
+"All right, young man," said he; "but as you lied yesterday--under a
+mistake--I prefer seeing for myself to-day."
+
+So the Baron brushed by the servant, and went in. He entered the room.
+No one was there. He waited a little while, and thought. He was too
+impatient to wait long. He could not trust these lying servants. So he
+determined to try for himself. Her room was up stairs, somewhere in
+the story above.
+
+So he went out of the room, and up the stairs, until his head was on a
+level with the floor of the story above. Then he called:
+
+"_Min!_"
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN!" in a louder voice.
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN! it's ME!" still louder.
+
+No answer.
+
+"_MIN!_" a perfect yell.
+
+At this last shout there was a response. One of the doors opened, and
+a lady made her appearance, while at two other doors appeared two
+maids. The lady was young and beautiful, and her face was stern, and
+her dark eyes looked indignantly toward the Baron.
+
+"Who are you?" she asked, abruptly; "and what do you want?"
+
+"Me? I'm the Baron Atramonte; and I want Min. Don't you know where she
+is?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Min."
+
+"Min?" asked the other, in amazement.
+
+"Yes. My Min--Minnie, you know. Minnie Fay."
+
+At this the lady looked at the Baron with utter horror.
+
+"I want her."
+
+"She's not at home," said the lady.
+
+"Well, really, it's too bad. I must see her. Is she out?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Really? Honor bright now?"
+
+The lady retired and shut the door.
+
+"Well, darn it all, you needn't be so peppery," muttered the Baron. "I
+didn't say any thing. I only asked a civil question. Out, hey? Well,
+she must be this time. If she'd been in, she'd have made her
+appearance. Well, I'd best go out and hunt her up. They don't seem to
+me altogether so cordial as I'd like to have them. They're just a
+leetle too 'ristocratic."
+
+With these observations to himself, the Baron descended the stairs,
+and made his way to the door. Here he threw an engaging smile upon the
+servant, and made a remark which set the other on the broad grin for
+the remainder of the day. After this the Baron took his departure.
+
+The Baron this time went to some stables, and reappeared in a short
+time mounted upon a gallant steed, and careering down the Corso. In
+due time he reached the Piazza del Popolo, and then he ascended the
+Pincian Hill. Here he rode about for some time, and finally his
+perseverance was rewarded. He was looking down from the summit of the
+hill upon the Piazza below, when he caught sight of a barouche, in
+which were three ladies. One of these sat on the front seat, and her
+white face and short golden hair seemed to indicate to him the one he
+sought.
+
+In an instant he put spurs to his horse, and rode down the hill as
+quick as possible, to the great alarm of the crowds who were going up
+and down. In a short time he had caught up with the carriage. He was
+right. It was the right one, and Minnie was there, together with Lady
+Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby. The ladies, on learning of his
+approach, exhibited no emotion. They were prepared for this, and
+resigned. They had determined that Minnie should have no more
+interviews with him indoors; and since they could not imprison her
+altogether, they would have to submit for the present to his advances.
+But they were rapidly becoming desperate.
+
+Lord Hawbury was riding by the carriage as the Baron came up.
+
+"Hallo!" said he to the former. "How do? and _how_ are you all? Why,
+I've been hunting all over creation. Well, Minnie, how goes it? Feel
+lively? That's right. Keep out in the open air. Take all the exercise
+you can, and eat as hard as you can. You live too quiet as a general
+thing, and want to knock around more. But we'll fix all that, won't
+we, Min, before a month of Sundays?"
+
+The advent of the Baron in this manner, and his familiar address to
+Minnie, filled Hawbury with amazement. He had been surprised at
+finding him with the ladies on the previous day, but there was nothing
+in his demeanor which was at all remarkable. Now, however, he noticed
+the very great familiarity of his tone and manner toward Minnie, and
+was naturally amazed. The Baron had not confided to him his secret,
+and he could not understand the cause of such intimacy between the
+representatives of such different classes. He therefore listened with
+inexpressible astonishment to the Baron's language, and to Minnie's
+artless replies.
+
+Minnie was sitting on the front seat of the barouche, and was alone in
+that seat. As the gentlemen rode on each side of the carriage her face
+was turned toward them. Hawbury rode back, so that he was beside Lady
+Dalrymple; but the Baron rode forward, on the other side, so as to
+bring himself as near to Minnie as possible. The Baron was exceedingly
+happy. His happiness showed itself in the flush of his face, in the
+glow of his eyes, and in the general exuberance and all-embracing
+swell of his manner. His voice was loud, his gestures demonstrative,
+and his remarks were addressed by turns to each one in the company.
+The others soon gave up the attempt to talk, and left it all to the
+Baron. Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby exchanged glances of
+despair. Hawbury still looked on in surprise, while Minnie remained
+perfectly calm, perfectly self-possessed, and conversed with her usual
+simplicity.
+
+As the party thus rode on they met a horseman, who threw a rapid
+glance over all of them. It was Girasole. The ladies bowed, and Mrs.
+Willoughby wished that he had come a little before, so that he could
+have taken the place beside the carriage where the Baron now was. But
+the place was now appropriated, and there was no chance for the Count.
+Girasole threw a dark look over them, which rested more particularly
+on Hawbury. Hawbury nodded lightly at the Count, and didn't appear to
+take any further notice of him. All this took up but a few moments,
+and the Count passed on.
+
+Shortly after they met another horseman. He sat erect, pale, sad, with
+a solemn, earnest glow in his melancholy eyes. Minnie's back was
+turned toward him, so that she could not see his face, but his eyes
+were fixed upon Mrs. Willoughby. She looked back at him and bowed, as
+did also Lady Dalrymple. He took off his hat, and the carriage rolled
+past. Then he turned and looked after it, bareheaded, and Minnie
+caught sight of him, and smiled and bowed. And then in a few moments
+more the crowd swallowed up Scone Dacres.
+
+The Baron thus enjoyed himself in a large, exuberant fashion, and
+monopolized the conversation in a large, exuberant way. He outdid
+himself. He confided to the ladies his plans for the regeneration of
+the Roman Church and the Roman State. He told stories of his
+adventures in the Rocky Mountains. He mentioned the state of his
+finances, and his prospects for the future. He was as open, as free,
+and as communicative as if he had been at home, with fond sisters and
+admiring brothers around him. The ladies were disgusted at it all; and
+by the ladies I mean only Mrs. Willoughby and Lady Dalrymple. For
+Minnie was not--she actually listened in delight. It was not
+conventional. Very well. Neither was the Baron. And for that matter,
+neither was she. He was a child of nature. So was she. His rudeness,
+his aggressiveness, his noise, his talkativeness, his egotism, his
+confidences about himself--all these did not make him so very
+disagreeable to her as to her sister and aunt.
+
+So Minnie treated the Baron with the utmost complaisance, and Hawbury
+was surprised, and Mrs. Willoughby and Lady Dalrymple were disgusted;
+but the Baron was delighted, and his soul was filled with perfect joy.
+Too soon for him was this drive over. But the end came, and they
+reached the hotel. Hawbury left them, but the Baron lingered. The spot
+was too sweet, the charm too dear--he could not tear himself away.
+
+In fact, he actually followed the ladies into the house.
+
+"I think I'll just make myself comfortable in here, Min, till you come
+down," said the Baron. And with these words he walked into the
+reception-room, where he selected a place on a sofa, and composed
+himself to wait patiently for Minnie to come down.
+
+So he waited, and waited, and waited--but Minnie did not come. At last
+he grew impatient. He walked out, and up the stairs, and listened.
+
+He heard ladies' voices.
+
+He spoke.
+
+"_Min!_"
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN!" louder.
+
+No answer.
+
+"MIN! HALLO-O-O-O!"
+
+No answer.
+
+"_MIN!_" a perfect shout.
+
+At this a door was opened violently, and Mrs. Willoughby walked out.
+Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glanced fire.
+
+"Sir," she said, "this is intolerable! You must be intoxicated. Go
+away at once, or I shall certainly have you turned out of the house."
+
+And saying this she went back, shut the door, and locked it.
+
+The Baron was thunder-struck. He had never been treated so in his
+life. He was cut to the heart. His feelings were deeply wounded.
+
+"Darn it!" he muttered. "What's all this for? I ain't been doing any
+thing."
+
+He walked out very thoughtfully. He couldn't understand it at all. He
+was troubled for some time. But at last his buoyant spirit rose
+superior to this temporary depression. To-morrow would explain all, he
+thought. Yes, to-morrow would make it all right. To-morrow he would
+see Min, and get her to tell him what in thunder the row was. She'd
+have to tell, for he could never find out. So he made up his mind to
+keep his soul in patience.
+
+That evening Hawbury was over at the Baron's quarters, by special
+invitation, and the Baron decided to ask his advice. So in the course
+of the evening, while in the full, easy, and confidential mood that
+arises out of social intercourse, he told Hawbury his whole
+story--beginning with the account of his first meeting with Minnie,
+and his rescue of her, and her acceptance of him, down to this very
+day, when he had been so terribly snubbed by Mrs. Willoughby. To all
+this Hawbury listened in amazement. It was completely new to him. He
+wondered particularly to find another man who had saved the life of
+this quiet, timid little girl.
+
+The Baron asked his advice, but Hawbury declined giving any. He said
+he couldn't advise any man in a love-affair. Every man must trust to
+himself. No one's advice could be of any avail. Hawbury, in fact, was
+puzzled, but he said the best he could. The Baron himself was fully of
+Hawbury's opinion. He swore that it was truth, and declared the man
+that followed another's advice in a love-affair was a "darned fool
+that didn't deserve to win his gal."
+
+There followed a general conversation on things of a different kind.
+The Baron again discoursed on church and state. He then exhibited some
+curiosities. Among other things a skull. He used it to hold his
+tobacco. He declared that it was the skull of an ancient Roman. On the
+inside was a paper pasted there, on which he had written the
+following:
+
+     "Oh, I'm the skull of a Roman bold
+       That fit in the ancient war;
+     From East to West I bore the flag
+       Of S. P. Q. and R.
+
+     "In East and West, and North and South,
+       We made the nations fear us--
+     Both Nebuchadnezzar and Hannibal,
+       And Pharaoh too, and Pyrrhus.
+
+     "We took their statutes from the Greeks,
+       And lots of manuscripts too;
+     We set adrift on his world-wide tramp
+       The original wandering Jew.
+
+     "But at last the beggarly Dutchman came,
+       With his lager and sauerkraut;
+     And wherever that beggarly Dutchman went
+       He made a terrible rout.
+
+     "Wo ist der Deutscher's Vaterland?
+       Is it near the ocean wild?
+     Is it where the feathery palm-trees grow?
+       Not there, not there, my child.
+
+     "But it's somewhere down around the Rhine;
+       And now that Bismarck's come,
+     Down goes Napoleon to the ground,
+       And away goes the Pope from Rome!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"HE SAVED MY LIFE."
+
+
+"I can't bear this any longer!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby. "Here you
+are getting into all sorts of difficulties, each one worse than the
+other. I'm sure I don't see why you should. You're very quiet, Minnie
+dearest, but you have more unpleasant adventures than any person I
+ever heard of. You're run away with on horseback, you're shipwrecked,
+you're swept down a precipice by an avalanche, and you fall into the
+crater of a burning volcano. Every time there is some horrid man who
+saves you, and then proposes. As for you, you accept them all with
+equal readiness, one after another, and what is worse, you won't give
+any of them up. I've asked you explicitly which of them you'll give
+up, and you actually refuse to say. My dear child, what are you
+thinking of? You can't have them all. You can't have any of them. None
+of them are agreeable to your family. They're horrid. What are you
+going to do? Oh, how I wish you had dear mamma to take care of you!
+But she is in a better world. And here is poor dear papa who can't
+come. How shocked he would be if he knew all. What is worst, here is
+that dreadful American savage, who is gradually killing me. He
+certainly will be my death. What _am_ I to do, dear? Can't you
+possibly show a little sense yourself--only a little, dear--and have
+some consideration for your poor sister? Even Ethel worries about you,
+though she has troubles of her own, poor darling; and aunty is really
+quite ill with anxiety. What _are_ we going to do? I know one thing.
+_I'm_ not going to put up with it. My mind is made up. I'll leave Rome
+at once, and go home and tell papa."
+
+"Well, you needn't scold so," said Minnie. "It's my trouble. I can't
+help it. They would come. I'm sure _I_ don't know what to do."
+
+"Well, you needn't be so awfully kind to them all. That's what
+encourages them so. It's no use for me to try to keep them away if you
+make them all so welcome. Now there's that dreadful Italian. I'm
+positive he's going to get up some unpleasant plot. These Italians are
+so very revengeful. And he thinks you're so fond of him, and I'm so
+opposed. And he's right, too. You always act as if you're fond of him,
+and all the rest. As to that terrible American savage, I'm afraid to
+think of him; I positively am."
+
+"Well, you needn't be so awfully unkind to him. He saved my life."
+
+"That's no reason why he should deprive me of mine, which he will do
+if he goes on so much longer."
+
+"You were very, very rude to him, Kitty," said Minnie, severely, "and
+very, very unkind--"
+
+"I intended to be so."
+
+"I really felt like crying, and running out and explaining things."
+
+"I know you did, and ran back and locked the door. Oh, you wretched
+little silly goose, what _am_ I _ever_ to do with such a child as you
+are! You're really not a bit better than a baby."
+
+This conversation took place on the day following the Baron's last
+eventful call. Poor Mrs. Willoughby was driven to desperation, and lay
+awake all night, trying to think of some plan to baffle the enemy, but
+was unsuccessful; and so she tried once more to have some influence
+over Minnie by a remonstrance as sharp as she could give.
+
+"He's an American savage. I believe he's an Indian."
+
+"I'm sure I don't see any thing savage in him. He's as gentle and as
+kind as he can be. And he's so awfully fond of me."
+
+"Think how he burst in here, forcing his way in, and taking possession
+of the house. And then poor dear aunty! Oh, how she _was_ shocked and
+horrified!"
+
+"It's because he is so _awfully_ fond of me, and was so perfectly
+_crazy_ to see me."
+
+"And then, just as I was beginning to persuade him to go away quietly,
+to think of you coming down!"
+
+"Well, I couldn't bear to have him so sad, when he saved my life, and
+so I just thought I'd show myself, so as to put him at ease."
+
+"A pretty way to show yourself--to let a great, horrid man treat you
+so."
+
+"Well, that's what they _all_ do," said Minnie, plaintively. "I'm sure
+_I_ can't help it."
+
+"Oh dear! was there ever such a child! Why, Minnie darling, you must
+know that such things are very, very ill-bred, and very, very
+indelicate and unrefined. And then, think how he came forcing himself
+upon us when we were driving. Couldn't he see that he wasn't wanted?
+No, he's a savage. And then, how he kept giving us all a history of
+his life. Every body could hear him, and people stared so that it was
+really quite shocking."
+
+"Oh, that's because he is so very, very frank. He has none of the
+deceit of society, you know, Kitty darling."
+
+"Deceit of society! I should think not. Only think how he acted
+yesterday--forcing his way in and rushing up stairs. Why, it's
+actually quite frightful. He's like a madman. We will have to keep all
+the doors locked, and send for the police. Why, do you know, Ethel
+says that he was here before, running about and shouting in the same
+way: 'Min!' 'Min!' 'Min!'--that's what the horrid wretch calls you
+--'Min! it's me.' 'Come, Min!'"
+
+At this Minnie burst into a peal of merry, musical laughter, and
+laughed on till the tears came to her eyes. Her sister looked more
+disgusted than ever.
+
+"He's such a boy," said Minnie; "he's just like a boy. He's so _aw_fully
+funny. If I'm a child, he's a big boy, and the awfullest, funniest boy
+I ever saw. And then he's _so_ fond of me. Why, he worships me. Oh,
+it's awfully nice."
+
+"A boy! A beast, you mean--a horrid savage. What _can_ I do? I must
+send for a policeman. I'll certainly have the doors all locked. And
+then we'll all be prisoners."
+
+"Well, then, it'll all be your own fault, for _I_ don't want to have
+any doors locked."
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed her sister.
+
+"Well, I don't. And I think you're very unkind."
+
+"Why, you silly child, he'd come here some day, carry you off, and
+make you marry him."
+
+"Well, I do wish he would," said Minnie, gravely. "I wish somebody
+would, for then it would put a stop to all this worry, and I really
+don't know what else ever will. Do _you_, now, Kitty darling?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby turned away with a gesture of despair.
+
+An hour or two after some letters were brought in, one of which was
+addressed to
+
+  MISS FAY,
+
+    _Poste Restante_,
+
+      _Roma_.
+
+Minnie opened this, and looked over it with a troubled air. Then she
+spoke to her sister, and they both went off to Minnie's room.
+
+"Who do you think this is from?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I don't know! Of course it's some more trouble."
+
+"It's from Captain Kirby."
+
+"Oh, of course! And of course he's here in Rome?"
+
+"No, he isn't."
+
+"What! Not yet?"
+
+"No; but he wrote this from London. He has been to the house, and
+learned that we had gone to Italy. He says he has sent off letters to
+me, directed to every city in Italy, so that I may be sure to get it.
+Isn't that good of him?"
+
+"Well?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, repressing an exclamation of vexation.
+
+"Well, he says that in three days he will leave, and go first to Rome,
+as he thinks we will be most likely to be there this season. And so,
+you see, he's coming on; and he will be here in three days, you know."
+
+"Minnie," said her sister, after some moments' solemn thought.
+
+"Well, Kitty darling?"
+
+"Do you ever think?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Would you like one of these gentlemen of yours to blow one of the
+others' brains out, or stab him, or any thing of that sort?"
+
+"How shocking you are, Kitty dear! What a dreadful question!"
+
+"Well, understand me now. One of them _will_ do that. There will be
+trouble, and your name will be associated with it."
+
+"Well," said Minnie, "I know who _won't_ be shot."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, Rufus K. Gunn," said she, in the funny, prim way in which she
+always pronounced that name. "If he finds it out, he'll drive all the
+others away."
+
+"And would you like that?"
+
+"Well, you know, he's awfully fond of me, and he's so like a boy: and
+if I'm such a child, I could do better with a man, you know, that's
+like a boy, you know, than--than--"
+
+"Nonsense! He's a madman, and you're a simpleton, you little goose."
+
+"Well, then, we must be well suited to one another," said Minnie.
+
+"Now, child, listen," said Mrs. Willoughby, firmly. "I intend to put a
+stop to this. I have made up my mind positively to leave Rome, and
+take you home to papa. I'll tell him all about it, put you under his
+care, and have no more responsibility with you. I think he'd better
+send you back to school. I've been too gentle. You need a firm hand.
+I'll be firm for a few days, till you can go to papa. You need not
+begin to cry. It's for your own good. If you're indulged any more,
+you'll simply go to ruin."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby's tone was different from usual, and Minnie was
+impressed by it. She saw that her sister was resolved. So she stole up
+to her and twined her arms about her and kissed her.
+
+"There, there," said her sister, kissing her again, "don't look so
+sad, Minnie darling. It's for your own good. We must go away, or else
+you'll have another of those dreadful people. You must trust to me
+now, dearest, and not interfere with me in any way."
+
+"Well, well, you mustn't be unkind to poor Rufus K. Gunn," said
+Minnie.
+
+"Unkind? Why, we won't be any thing to him at all."
+
+"And am I never to--to--see him again?"
+
+"No!" said her sister, firmly.
+
+Minnie started, and looked at Mrs. Willoughby, and saw in her face a
+fixed resolution.
+
+"No, never!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby. "I am going to take you back to
+England. I'm afraid to take any railroad or steamboat. I'll hire a
+carriage, and we'll all go in a quiet way to Florence. Then we can
+take the railroad to Leghorn, and go home by the way of Marseilles. No
+one will know that we've gone away. They'll think we have gone on an
+excursion. Now we'll go out driving this morning, and this afternoon
+we must keep the outer door locked, and not let any one in. I suppose
+there is no danger of meeting him in the morning. He must be on duty
+then."
+
+"But mayn't I see him at all before we go?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Just once--only once?"
+
+"No, not once. You've seen that horrid man for the last time."
+
+Minnie again looked at her sister, and again read her resolution in
+her face. She turned away, her head dropped, a sob escaped from her,
+and then she burst into tears.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+JEALOUSY.
+
+
+Lord Hawbury had come to Rome for the sole purpose of watching over
+his friend Scone Dacres. But he had not found it so easy to do so. His
+friend kept by himself more than he used to, and for several days
+Hawbury had seen nothing of him. Once while with the ladies he had met
+him, and noticed the sadness and the gloom of his brow. He saw by this
+that he was still a prey to those feelings the exhibition of which had
+alarmed him at Naples, and made him resolve to accompany him here.
+
+A few days afterward, while Hawbury was in his room, his friend
+entered. Hawbury arose and greeted him with unfeigned joy.
+
+"Well, old man," he said, "you've kept yourself close, too. What have
+you been doing with yourself? I've only had one glimpse of you for an
+age. Doing Rome, hey? Antiquities, arts, churches, palaces, and all
+that sort of thing, I suppose. Come now, old boy, sit down and give an
+account of yourself. Have a weed? Here's Bass in prime order. Light
+up, my dear fellow, and let me look at you as you compose your manly
+form for a friendly smoke. And don't speak till you feel inclined."
+
+Dacres took his seat with a melancholy smile, and selecting a cigar,
+lighted it, and smoked in silence for some time.
+
+"Who was that Zouave fellow?" he asked at length: "the fellow that I
+saw riding by the carriage the other day?"
+
+"That--oh, an old friend of mine. He's an American named Gunn. He's
+joined the Papal Zouaves from some whim, and a deuced good thing it is
+for them to get hold of such a man. I happened to call one day, and
+found him with the ladies."
+
+"The ladies--ah!" and Dacres's eyes lighted up with a bad, hard light.
+"I suppose he's another of those precious cavaliers--the scum of all
+lands--that dance attendance on my charming wife."
+
+"Oh, see here now, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "none of
+that, you know. This fellow is a friend of _mine_, and one of the best
+fellows I ever saw. You'd like him, old chap. He'd suit you."
+
+"Yes, and suit my wife better," said Dacres, bitterly.
+
+"Oh, come now, really, my dear boy, you're completely out. He don't
+know your wife at all. It's the other one, you know. Don't be jealous,
+now, if I tell you."
+
+"Jealous!"
+
+"Yes. I know your weakness, you know; but this is an old affair. I
+don't want to violate confidence, but--"
+
+Dacres looked hard at his friend and breathed heavily. He was
+evidently much excited.
+
+"But what?" he said, hoarsely.
+
+"Well, you know, it's an old affair. It's the young one, you
+know--Miss Fay. He rather affects her, you know. That's about it."
+
+"Miss Fay?"
+
+"Yes; your child-angel, you know. But it's an older affair than yours;
+it is, really; so don't be giving way, man. Besides, his claims on her
+are as great as yours; yes, greater too. By Jove!"
+
+"Miss Fay! Oh, is that all?" said Dacres, who, with a sigh of infinite
+relief, shook off all his late excitement, and became cool once more.
+
+Hawbury noted this very thoughtfully.
+
+"You see," said Dacres, "that terrible wife of mine is so cursedly
+beautiful and fascinating, and so infernally fond of admiration, that
+she keeps no end of fellows tagging at her heels. And so I didn't know
+but that this was some new admirer. Oh, she's a deep one! Her new
+style, which she has been cultivating for ten years, has made her look
+like an angel of light. Why, there's the very light of heaven in her
+eyes, and in her face there is nothing, I swear, but gentleness and
+purity and peace. Oh, had she but been what she now seems! Oh, if even
+now I could but believe this, I would even now fling my memories to
+the winds, and I'd lie down in the dust and let her trample on me, if
+she would only give me that tender and gentle love that now lurks in
+her face. Good Heavens! can such a change be possible? No; it's
+impossible! It can't be! Don't I know her? Can't I remember her? Is my
+memory all a dream? No, it's real; and it's marked deep by this scar
+that I wear. Never till that scar is obliterated can that woman
+change."
+
+Dacres had been speaking, as he often did now, half to himself; and as
+he ended he rubbed his hand over the place where the scar lay, as
+though to soothe the inflammation that arose from the rush of angry
+blood to his head.
+
+"Well, dear boy, I can only say I wish from my heart that her nature
+was like her face. She's no favorite of mine, for your story has made
+me look on her with your eyes, and I never have spoken to her except
+in the most distant way; but I must say I think her face has in it a
+good deal of that gentleness which you mention. Miss Fay treats her
+quite like an elder sister, and is deuced fond of her, too. I can see
+that. So she can't be very fiendish to her. Like loves like, you know,
+and the one that the child-angel loves ought to be a little of an
+angel herself, oughtn't she?"
+
+Dacres was silent for a long time.
+
+"There's that confounded Italian," said he, "dangling forever at her
+heels--the devil that saved her life. He must be her accepted lover,
+you know. He goes out riding beside the carriage."
+
+"Well, really, my dear fellow, she doesn't seem overjoyed by his
+attentions."
+
+"Oh, that's her art. She's so infernally deep. Do you think she'd let
+the world see her feelings? Never. Slimy, Sir, and cold and subtle and
+venomous and treacherous--a beautiful serpent. Aha! isn't that the way
+to hit her off? Yes, a beautiful, malignant, venomous serpent, with
+fascination in her eyes, and death and anguish in her bite. But she
+shall find out yet that others are not without power. Confound her!"
+
+"Well, now, by Jove! old boy, I think the very best thing you can do
+is to go away somewhere, and get rid of these troubles."
+
+"Go away! Can I go away from my own thoughts? Hawbury, the trouble is
+in my own heart. I must keep near her. There's that Italian devil. He
+shall not have her. I'll watch them, as I have watched them, till I
+find a chance for revenge."
+
+"You have watched them, then?" asked Hawbury, in great surprise.
+
+"Yes, both of them. I've seen the Italian prowling about where she
+lives. I've seen her on her balcony, evidently watching for him."
+
+"But have you seen any thing more? This is only your fancy."
+
+"Fancy! Didn't I see her herself standing on the balcony looking down.
+I was concealed by the shadow of a fountain, and she couldn't see me.
+She turned her face, and I saw it in that soft, sweet, gentle beauty
+which she has cultivated so wonderfully. I swear it seemed like the
+face of an angel, and I could have worshiped it. If she could have
+seen my face in that thick shadow she would have thought I was an
+adorer of hers, like the Italian--ha, ha!--instead of a pursuer, and
+an enemy."
+
+"Well, I'll be hanged if I can tell myself which you are, old boy;
+but, at any rate, I'm glad to be able to state that your trouble will
+soon be over."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"She's going away."
+
+"Going away!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She! going away! where?"
+
+"Back to England."
+
+"Back to England! why, she's just come here. What's that for?"
+
+"I don't know. I only know they're all going home. Well, you know,
+holy week's over, and there is no object for them to stay longer."
+
+"Going away! going away!" replied Dacres, slowly. "Who told you?"
+
+"Miss Fay."
+
+"Oh, I don't believe it."
+
+"There's no doubt about it, my dear boy. Miss Fay told me explicitly.
+She said they were going in a carriage by the way of Civita
+Castellana."
+
+"What are they going that way for? What nonsense! I don't believe it."
+
+"Oh, it's a fact. Besides, they evidently don't want it to be known."
+
+"What's that?" asked Dacres, eagerly.
+
+"I say they don't seem to want it to be known. Miss Fay told me in her
+childish way, and I saw that Mrs. Willoughby looked vexed, and tried
+to stop her."
+
+"Tried to stop her! Ah! Who were there? Were you calling?"
+
+"Oh no--it was yesterday morning. I was riding, and, to my surprise,
+met them. They were driving--Mrs. Willoughby and Miss Fay, you
+know--so I chatted with them a few moments, or rather with Miss Fay,
+and hoped I would see them again soon, at some _fete_ or other, when
+she told me this."
+
+"And my wife tried to stop her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And looked vexed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then it was some secret of _hers_. _She_ has some reason for keeping
+dark. The other has none. Aha! don't I understand her? She wants to
+keep it from _me_. She knows you're my friend, and was vexed that you
+should know. Aha! she dreads my presence. She knows I'm on her track.
+She wants to get away with her Italian--away from my sight. Aha! the
+tables are turned at last. Aha! my lady. Now we'll see. Now take your
+Italian and fly, and see how far you can get away from me. Take him,
+and see if you can hold him. Aha! my angel face, my mild, soft eyes of
+love, but devil's heart--can not I understand it all? I see through
+it. I've watched, you. Wait till you see Scone Dacres on your track!"
+
+"What's that? You don't really mean it?" cried Hawbury.
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"Will you follow her?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"What for? For a vague fancy of your jealous mind?"
+
+"It isn't a fancy; it's a certainty. I've seen the Italian dogging
+her, dodging about her house, and riding with her. I've seen her
+looking very much as if she were expecting him at her balcony. Is all
+that nothing? She's seen me, and feels conscience-stricken, and longs
+to get away where she may be free from the terror of my presence. But
+I'll track her. I'll strike at her--at her heart, too; for I will
+strike through the Italian."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"I will, I swear!" cried Dacres, gloomily.
+
+"You're mad, Dacres. You imagine all this. You're like a madman in a
+dream."
+
+"It's no dream. I'll follow her. I'll track her."
+
+"Then, by Jove, you'll have to take me with you, old boy! I see you're
+not fit to take care of yourself. I'll have to go and keep you from
+harm."
+
+"You won't keep me from harm, old chap," said Dacres, more gently;
+"but I'd be glad if you would go. So come along."
+
+"I will, by Jove!"
+
+[Illustration: "I WATCHED HIM."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE BARON'S WOES.
+
+
+Dacres was not the only excited visitor that Hawbury had that day.
+Before its close another made his appearance in the person of the
+Baron.
+
+"Well, my noble friend," cried Hawbury--"my Baron bold--how goes it?
+But, by Jove! what's the matter, my boy? Your brow deep scars of
+thunder have intrenched, and care sits on your faded cheek. Pour forth
+the mournful tale. I'll sympathize."
+
+"I swear it's too almighty bad!" cried the Baron.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The way I'm getting humbugged."
+
+"Humbugged! Who's been humbugging you?"
+
+"Darn me if I know; and that's the worst of it by a thundering sight."
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, if I can help you, you'd better let me know
+what it's all about."
+
+"Why, Minnie; that's the row. There ain't another thing on this green
+earth that would trouble me for five seconds."
+
+"Minnie? Oh! And what has happened--a lover's quarrel?"
+
+"Not a quarrel. _She's_ all right."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Why, she's disappeared."
+
+"Disappeared! What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Darn me if I know. I only know this, that they keep their place
+bolted and barred, and they've muffled the bell, and there's no
+servant to be seen, and I can't find out any thing about them. And
+it's too almighty bad. Now isn't it?"
+
+"It's deuced odd, too--queer, by Jove! I don't understand. Are you
+sure they're all locked up?"
+
+"Course I am."
+
+"And no servants?"
+
+"Not a darned servant."
+
+"Did you ask the concierge?"
+
+"Course I did; and crossed his palm, too. But he didn't give me any
+satisfaction."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"Why, he said they were at home, for they had been out in the morning,
+and had got back again. Well, after that I went back and nearly
+knocked the door down. And that was no good; I didn't get a word. The
+concierge swore they were in, and they wouldn't so much as answer me.
+Now I call that too almighty hard, and I'd like to know what in
+thunder they all mean by it."
+
+"By Jove! odd, too."
+
+"Well, you know, I thought after a while that it would be all
+explained the next day; so I went home and waited, and came back the
+next afternoon. I tried it over again. Same result. I spoke to the
+concierge again, and he swore again that they were all in. They had
+been out in the morning, he said, and looked well. They had come home
+by noon, and had gone to their rooms. Well, I really did start the
+door that time, but didn't get any answer for my pains."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, I was pretty hard up, I tell you. But I wasn't going to give
+up. So I staid there, and began a siege. I crossed the concierge's
+palm again, and was in and out all night. Toward morning I took a nap
+in his chair. He thought it was some government business or other, and
+assisted me all he could. I didn't see any thing at all though, except
+an infernal Italian--a fellow that came calling the first day I was
+there, and worked himself in between me and Min. He was prowling about
+there, with another fellow, and stared hard at me. I watched him, and
+said nothing, for I wanted to find out his little game. He's up to
+something, I swear. When he saw I was on the ground, though, he beat a
+retreat.
+
+"Well, I staid all night, and the next morning watched again. I didn't
+knock. It wasn't a bit of use--not a darned bit.
+
+"Well, about nine o'clock the door opened, and I saw some one looking
+out very cautiously. In a minute I was standing before her, and held
+out my hand to shake hers. It was the old lady. But she didn't shake
+hands. She looked at me quite coolly.
+
+"'Good-morning, ma'am,' said I, in quite a winning voice.
+'Good-morning, ma'am.'
+
+"'Good-morning,' she said.
+
+"'I come to see Minnie,' said I.
+
+"'To see Minnie!' said she: and then she told me she wasn't up.
+
+"'Ain't up?' said I; 'and it so bright and early! Why, what's got her?
+Well, you just go and tell her _I'm_ here, and I'll just step inside
+and wait till she comes down,' said I.
+
+"But the old lady didn't budge.
+
+"'I'm not a servant,' she said, very stiff; 'I'm her aunt, and her
+guardian, and I allow no messages to pass between her and strange
+gentlemen.'
+
+"'Strange gentlemen!' I cried. 'Why, ain't I engaged to her?'
+
+"'I don't know you,' says she.
+
+"'Wasn't I introduced to you?' says I.
+
+"'No,' says she; 'I don't know you.'
+
+[Illustration: "BUT I SAVED HER LIFE."]
+
+"'But I'm engaged to Minnie,' says I.
+
+"'I don't recognize you,' says she. 'The family know nothing about
+you; and my niece is a silly girl, who is going back to her father,
+who will probably send her to school.'
+
+"'But I saved her life,' says I.
+
+"'That's very possible,' says she; 'many persons have done so; yet
+that gives you no right to annoy her; and you shall _not_ annoy her.
+Your engagement is an absurdity. The child herself is an absurdity.
+_You_ are an absurdity. Was it not you who was creating such a
+frightful disturbance here yesterday? Let me inform you, Sir, that if
+you repeat it, you will be handed over to the police. The police would
+certainly have been called yesterday had we not wished to avoid
+hurting your feelings. We now find that you have no feelings to hurt.'
+
+"'Very well, ma'am,' says I; 'these are your views; but as you are not
+Minnie, I don't accept them. I won't retire from the field till I hear
+a command to that effect from Minnie herself. I allow no relatives to
+stand between me and my love. Show me Minnie, and let me hear what she
+has to say. That's all I ask, and that's fair and square.'
+
+"'You shall not see her at all,' says the old lady, quite mild; 'not
+at all. You must not come again, for you will not be admitted. Police
+will be here to put you out if you attempt to force an entrance as you
+did before.'
+
+"'Force an entrance!' I cried.
+
+"'Yes,' she said, 'force an entrance. You did so, and you filled the
+whole house with your shouts. Is that to be borne? Not by us, Sir. And
+now go, and don't disturb us any more.'
+
+"Well, I'll be darned if I ever felt so cut up in my life. The old
+lady was perfectly calm and cool; wasn't a bit scared--though there
+was no reason why she should be. She just gave it to me that way. But
+when she accused me of forcing an entrance and kicking up a row, I was
+struck all of a heap and couldn't say a word. _Me_ force an entrance!
+_Me_ kick up a row! And in Minnie's house! Why, the old woman's mad!
+
+"Well, the old lady shut the door in my face, and I walked off; and
+I've been ever since trying to understand it, but I'll be darned if I
+can make head or tail of it. The only thing I see is that they're all
+keeping Minnie locked up away from me. They don't like me, though why
+they don't I can't see; for I'm as good as any body, and I've been
+particular about being civil to all of them. Still they don't like me,
+and they see that Minnie does, and they're trying to break up the
+engagement. But by the living jingo!" and the Baron clinched a
+good-sized and very sinewy fist, which he brought down hard on the
+table--"by the living jingo, they'll find they can't come it over
+_me_! No, _Sir_!"
+
+"Is she fond of you--Miss Fay, I mean?"
+
+"Fond! Course she is. She dotes on me."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Sure! As sure as I am of my own existence. Why, the way she looks at
+me is enough! She has a look of helpless trust, an innocent
+confidence, a tender, child-like faith and love, and a beseeching,
+pleading, imploring way that tells me she is mine through and
+through."
+
+Hawbury was a little surprised. He thought he had heard something like
+that before.
+
+"Oh, well," said he, "that's the chief thing, you know. If you're sure
+of the girl's affections, the battle's half won."
+
+"Half won! Ain't it all won?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. You see, with us English, there are ever so many
+considerations."
+
+"But with us Americans there is only one consideration, and that is,
+Do you love me? Still, if her relatives are particular about dollars,
+I can foot up as many thousands as her old man, I dare say; and then,
+if they care for rank, why, I'm a Baron!"
+
+"And what's more, old boy," said Hawbury, earnestly, "if they wanted a
+valiant, stout, true, honest, loyal soul, they needn't go further than
+Rufus K. Gunn, Baron de Atramonte."
+
+The Baron's face flushed.
+
+"Hawbury," said he, "that's good in you. We've tried one another,
+haven't we? You're a brick! And I don't need _you_ to tell _me_ what
+you think of me. But if you could get a word into the ear of that
+cantankerous old lady, and just let her know what _you_ know about me,
+it might move her. You see you're after her style, and I'm not; and
+she can't see any thing but a man's manner, which, after all, varies
+in all countries. Now if you could speak a word for me, Hawbury--"
+
+"By Jove! my dear fellow, I'd be glad to do so--I swear I would; but
+you don't appear to know that I won't have the chance. They're all
+going to leave Rome to-morrow morning."
+
+The Baron started as though he had been shot.
+
+"What!" he cried, hoarsely. "What's that? Leave Rome?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes; Miss Fay told me herself--"
+
+"Miss Fay told you herself! By Heaven! What do they mean by that?" And
+the Baron sat trembling with excitement.
+
+"Well, the holy week's over."
+
+"Darn it all, that's got nothing to do with it! It's me! They're
+trying to get her from me! How are they going? Do you know?"
+
+"They are going in a carriage by the way of Civita Castellana."
+
+"In a carriage by the way of Civita Castellana! Darn that old idiot of
+a woman! what's she up to now? If she's running away from me, she'll
+wish herself back before she gets far on that road. Why, there's an
+infernal nest of brigands there that call themselves Garibaldians;
+and, by thunder, the woman's crazy! They'll be seized and held to
+ransom--perhaps worse. Heavens! I'll go mad! I'll run and tell them.
+But no; they won't see me. What'll I do? And Minnie! I can't give her
+up. She can't give me up. She's a poor, trembling little creature; her
+whole life hangs on mine. Separation from me would kill her. Poor
+little girl! Separation! By thunder, they shall never separate us!
+What devil makes the old woman go by that infernal road? Brigands all
+the way! But I'll go after them; I'll follow them. They'll find it
+almighty hard work to keep her from me! I'll see her, by thunder! and
+I'll get her out of their clutches! I swear I will! I'll bring her
+back here to Rome, and I'll get the Pope himself to bind her to me
+with a knot that all the old women under heaven can never loosen!"
+
+"What! You're going? By Jove! that's odd, for I'm going with a friend
+on the same road."
+
+"Good again! Three cheers! And you'll see the old woman, and speak a
+good word for me?"
+
+"If I see her and get a chance, I certainly will, by Jove!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+AN EVENTFUL JOURNEY.
+
+
+On the day following two carriages rolled out of Rome, and took the
+road toward Florence by the way of Civita Castellana. One carriage
+held four ladies; the other one was occupied by four lady's-maids and
+the luggage of the party.
+
+It was early morning, and over the wide Campagna there still hung
+mists, which were dissipated gradually as the sun arose. As they went
+on the day advanced, and with the departing mists there opened up a
+wide view. On either side extended the desolate Campagna, over which
+passed lines of ruined aqueducts on their way from the hills to the
+city. Here and there crumbling ruins arose above the plain--some
+ancient, others medieval, none modern. Before them, in the distance,
+arose the Apennines, among which were, here and there, visible the
+white outlines of some villa or hamlet.
+
+For mile after mile they drove on; and the drive soon proved very
+monotonous. It was nothing but one long and unvarying plain, with this
+only change, that every mile brought them nearer to the mountains. As
+the mountains were their only hope, they all looked forward eagerly to
+the time when they would arrive there and wind along the road among
+them.
+
+Formerly Mrs. Willoughby alone had been the confidante of Minnie's
+secret, but the events of the past few days had disclosed most of her
+troubles to the other ladies also, at least as far as the general
+outlines were concerned. The consequence was, that they all knew
+perfectly well the reason why they were traveling in this way, and
+Minnie knew that they all knew it. Yet this unpleasant consciousness
+did not in the least interfere with the sweetness of her temper and
+the gentleness of her manner. She sat there, with a meek smile and a
+resigned air, as though the only part now left her in life was the
+patient endurance of her unmerited wrongs. She blamed no one; she made
+no complaint; yet there was in her attitude something so touching, so
+clinging, so pathetic, so forlorn, and in her face something so sweet,
+so sad, so reproachful, and so piteous, that she enforced sympathy;
+and each one began to have a half-guilty fear that Minnie had been
+wronged by her. Especially did Mrs. Willoughby feel this. She feared
+that she had neglected the artless and simple-minded child; she feared
+that she had not been sufficiently thoughtful about her; and now
+longed to do something to make amends for this imaginary neglect. So
+she sought to make the journey as pleasant as possible by cheerful
+remarks and lively observations. None of these things, however,
+produced any effect upon the attitude of Minnie. She sat there, with
+unalterable sweetness and unvarying patience, just like a holy martyr,
+who freely forgave all her enemies, and was praying for those who had
+despitefully used her.
+
+[Illustration: THE PROCESSION ACROSS THE CAMPAGNA.]
+
+The exciting events consequent upon the Baron's appearance, and his
+sudden revelation in the role of Minnie's lover, had exercised a
+strong and varied effect upon all; but upon one its result was wholly
+beneficial, and this was Ethel. It was so startling and so unexpected
+that it had roused her from her gloom, and given her something to
+think of. The Baron's debut in their parlor had been narrated to her
+over and over by each of the three who had witnessed it, and each gave
+the narrative her own coloring. Lady Dalrymple's account was humorous;
+Mrs. Willoughby's indignant; Minnie's sentimental. Out of all these
+Ethel gained a fourth idea, compounded of these three, which again
+blended with another, and an original one of her own, gained from a
+personal observation of the Baron, whose appearance on the stairs and
+impatient summons for "Min" were very vividly impressed on her memory.
+In addition to this there was the memory of that day on which they
+endeavored to fight off the enemy.
+
+That was, indeed, a memorable day, and was now alluded to by them all
+as the day of the siege. It was not without difficulty that they had
+withstood Minnie's earnest protestations, and intrenched themselves.
+But Mrs. Willoughby was obdurate, and Minnie's tears, which flowed
+freely, were unavailing.
+
+Then there came the first knock of the impatient and aggressive
+visitor, followed by others in swift succession, and in
+ever-increasing power. Every knock went to Minnie's heart. It excited
+an unlimited amount of sympathy for the one who had saved her life,
+and was now excluded from her door. But as the knocks grew violent and
+imperative, and Minnie grew sad and pitiful, the other ladies grew
+indignant. Lady Dalrymple was on the point of sending off for the
+police, and only Minnie's frantic entreaties prevented this. At last
+the door seemed almost beaten in, and their feelings underwent a
+change. They were convinced that he was mad, or else intoxicated. Of
+the madness of love they did not think. Once convinced that he was
+mad, they became terrified. The maids all hid themselves. None of them
+now would venture out even to call the police. They expected that the
+concierge would interpose, but in vain. The concierge was bribed.
+
+After a very eventful day night came. They heard footsteps pacing up
+and down, and knew that it was their tormentor. Minnie's heart again
+melted with tender pity for the man whose love for her had turned his
+head, and she begged to be allowed to speak to him. But this was not
+permitted. So she went to bed and fell asleep. So, in process of time,
+did the others, and the night passed without any trouble. Then morning
+came, and there was a debate as to who should confront the enemy.
+There was no noise, but they knew that he was there. At last Lady
+Dalrymple summoned up her energies, and went forth to do battle. The
+result has already been described in the words of the bold Baron
+himself.
+
+But even this great victory did not reassure the ladies. Dreading
+another visit, they hurried away to a hotel, leaving the maids to
+follow with the luggage as soon as possible. On the following morning
+they had left the city.
+
+Events so very exciting as these had produced a very natural effect
+upon the mind of Ethel. They had thrown her thoughts out of their old
+groove, and fixed them in a new one. Besides, the fact that she was
+actually leaving the man who had caused her so much sorrow was already
+a partial relief. She had dreaded meeting him so much that she had
+been forced to keep herself a prisoner. A deep grief still remained in
+her heart; but, at any rate, there was now some pleasure to be felt,
+if only of a superficial kind.
+
+As for Mrs. Willoughby, in spite of her self-reproach about her purely
+imaginary neglect of Minnie, she felt such an extraordinary relief
+that it affected all her nature. The others might feel fatigue from
+the journey. Not she. She was willing to continue the journey for an
+indefinite period, so long as she had the sweet consciousness that she
+was bearing Minnie farther and farther away from the grasp of "that
+horrid man." The consequence was, that she was lively, lovely,
+brilliant, cheerful, and altogether delightful. She was as tender to
+Minnie as a mother could be. She was lavish in her promises of what
+she would do for her. She chatted gayly with Ethel about a thousand
+things, and was delighted to find that Ethel reciprocated. She rallied
+Lady Dalrymple on her silence, and congratulated her over and over, in
+spite of Minnie's frowns, on the success of her generalship. And so at
+last the weary Campagna was traversed, and the two carriages began to
+ascend among the mountains.
+
+Several other travelers were passing over that Campagna road, and in
+the same direction. They were not near enough for their faces to be
+discerned, but the ladies could look back and see the signs of their
+presence. First there was a carriage with two men, and about two miles
+behind another carriage with two other men; while behind these, again,
+there rode a solitary horseman, who was gradually gaining on the other
+travelers.
+
+Now, if it had been possible for Mrs. Willoughby to look back and
+discern the faces of the travelers who were moving along the road
+behind her, what a sudden overturn there would have been in her
+feelings, and what a blight would have fallen upon her spirits! But
+Mrs. Willoughby remained in the most blissful ignorance of the persons
+of these travelers, and so was able to maintain the sunshine of her
+soul.
+
+At length there came over that sunny soul the first cloud.
+
+The solitary horseman, who had been riding behind, had overtaken the
+different carriages.
+
+The first carriage contained Lord Hawbury and Scone Dacres. As the
+horseman passed, he recognized them with a careless nod and smile.
+
+Scone Dacres grasped Lord Hawbury's arm.
+
+"Did you see him?" he cried. "The Italian! I thought so! What do you
+say now? Wasn't I right?"
+
+"By Jove!" cried Lord Hawbury.
+
+Whereupon Dacres relapsed into silence, sitting upright, glaring after
+the horseman, cherishing in his gloomy soul the darkest and most
+vengeful thoughts.
+
+The horseman rode on further, and overtook the next carriage. In this
+there were two men, one in the uniform of the Papal Zouaves, the other
+in rusty black. He turned toward these, and greeted them with the same
+nod and smile.
+
+"Do you see that man, parson?" said the Baron to his companion. "Do
+you recognize him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, you saw him at Minnie's house. He came in."
+
+"No, he didn't."
+
+"Didn't he? No. By thunder, it wasn't that time. Well, at any rate,
+that man, I believe, is at the bottom of the row. It's my belief that
+he's trying to cut me out, and he'll find he's got a hard row to hoe
+before he succeeds in that project."
+
+And with these words the Baron sat glaring after the Italian, with
+something in his eye that resembled faintly the fierce glance of Scone
+Dacres.
+
+The Italian rode on. A few miles further were the two carriages.
+Minnie and her sister were sitting on the front seats, and saw the
+stranger as he advanced. He soon came near enough to be distinguished,
+and Mrs. Willoughby recognized Girasole.
+
+Her surprise was so great that she uttered an exclamation of terror,
+which startled the other ladies, and made them all look in that
+direction.
+
+"How very odd!" said Ethel, thoughtfully.
+
+"And now I suppose you'll all go and say that I brought _him_ too,"
+said Minnie. "That's _always_ the way you do. You _never_ seem to
+think that I may be innocent. You _always_ blame me for every little
+mite of a thing that may happen."
+
+No one made any remark, and there was silence in the carriage as the
+stranger approached. The ladies bowed somewhat coolly, except Minnie,
+who threw upon him the most imploring look that could possibly be sent
+from human eyes, and the Italian's impressible nature thrilled before
+those beseeching, pleading, earnest, unfathomable, tender, helpless,
+innocent orbs. Removing his hat, he bowed low.
+
+"I haf not been awara," he said, politely, in his broken English,
+"that youar ladysippa's bin intend to travalla. Ees eet not subito
+intenzion?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby made a polite response of a general character, the
+Italian paused a moment to drink in deep draughts from Minnie's great
+beseeching eyes that were fixed upon his, and then, with a low bow, he
+passed on.
+
+"I believe I'm losing my senses," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Why, Kitty darling?" asked Minnie.
+
+"I don't know how it is, but I actually trembled when that man came
+up, and I haven't got over it yet."
+
+"I'm sure I don't see why," said Minnie. "You're _always_ imagining
+things, though. Now _isn't_ she, Ethel dearest?"
+
+"Well, really, I don't see much in the Count to make one tremble. I
+suppose poor dear Kitty has been too much agitated lately, and it's
+her poor nerves."
+
+"I have my lavender, Kitty dear," said Lady Dalrymple. "Won't you take
+it? Or would you prefer valerian?"
+
+"Thanks, much, but I do not need it," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I suppose
+it will pass off."
+
+"I'm sure the poor Count never did any body any harm," said Minnie,
+plaintively; "so you needn't all abuse him so--unless you're all angry
+at him for saving my life. I remember a time when you all thought very
+differently, and all praised him up, no end."
+
+"Really, Minnie darling, I have nothing against the Count, only once
+he was a little too intrusive; but he seems to have got over that; and
+if he'll only be nice and quiet and proper, I'm sure I've nothing to
+say against him."
+
+They drove on for some time, and at length reached Civita Castellana.
+Here they drove up to the hotel, and the ladies got out and went up to
+their apartments. They had three rooms up stairs, two of which looked
+out into the street, while the third was in the rear. At the front
+windows was a balcony.
+
+The ladies now disrobed themselves, and their maids assisted them to
+perform the duties of a very simple toilet. Mrs. Willoughby's was
+first finished. So she walked over to the window, and looked out into
+the street.
+
+It was not a very interesting place, nor was there much to be seen;
+but she took a lazy, languid interest in the sight which met her eyes.
+There were the two carriages. The horses were being led to water.
+Around the carriages was a motley crowd, composed of the poor, the
+maimed, the halt, the blind, forming that realm of beggars which from
+immemorial ages has flourished in Italy. With these was intermingled a
+crowd of ducks, geese, goats, pigs, and ill-looking, mangy, snarling
+curs.
+
+Upon these Mrs. Willoughby looked for some time, when at length her
+ears were arrested by the roll of wheels down the street. A carriage
+was approaching, in which there were two travelers. One hasty glance
+sufficed, and she turned her attention once more to the ducks, geese,
+goats, dogs, and beggars. In a few minutes the crowd was scattered by
+the newly-arrived carriage. It stopped. A man jumped out. For a moment
+he looked up, staring hard at the windows. That moment was enough.
+Mrs. Willoughby had recognized him.
+
+She rushed away from the windows. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel were in
+this room, and Minnie in the one beyond. All were startled by Mrs.
+Willoughby's exclamation, and still more by her looks.
+
+"Oh!" she cried.
+
+"What?" cried they. "What is it?"
+
+"_He's_ there! _He's_ there!"
+
+"Who? who?" they cried, in alarm.
+
+"That horrid man!"
+
+Lady Dalrymple and Ethel looked at one another in utter horror.
+
+As for Minnie, she burst into the room, peeped out of the windows, saw
+"that horrid man," then ran back, then sat down, then jumped up, and
+then burst into a peal of the merriest laughter that ever was heard
+from her.
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ glad! I'm _so_ glad!" she exclaimed. "Oh, it's so
+_aw_fully funny. Oh, I'm _so_ glad! Oh, Kitty darling, don't, please
+don't, look so cross. Oh, ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ase don't, Kitty darling.
+You make me laugh worse. It's so _aw_fully funny!"
+
+But while Minnie laughed thus, the others looked at each other in
+still greater consternation, and for some time there was not one of
+them who knew what to say.
+
+But Lady Dalrymple again threw herself in the gap.
+
+"You need not feel at all nervous, my dears," said she, gravely. "I do
+not think that this person can give us any trouble. He certainly can
+not intrude upon us in these apartments, and on the highway, you know,
+it will be quite as difficult for him to hold any communication with
+us. So I really don't see any cause for alarm on your part, nor do I
+see why dear Minnie should exhibit such delight."
+
+These words brought comfort to Ethel and Mrs. Willoughby. They at once
+perceived their truth. To force himself into their presence in a
+public hotel was, of course, impossible, even for one so reckless as
+he seemed to be; and on the road he could not trouble them in any way,
+since he would have to drive before them or behind them.
+
+At Lady Dalrymple's reference to herself, Minnie looked up with a
+bright smile.
+
+"You're awfully cross with me, aunty darling," she said; "but I
+forgive you. Only I can't help laughing, you know, to see how
+frightened you all are at poor Rufus K. Gunn. And, Kitty dearest, oh
+how you _did_ run away from the window! It was awfully funny, you
+know."
+
+Not long after the arrival of the Baron and his friends another
+carriage drove up. None of the ladies were at the window, and so they
+did not see the easy nonchalance of Hawbury as he lounged into the
+house, or the stern face of Scone Dacres as he strode before him.
+
+[Illustration: "AS FOR DANGAIRE--POUF! DERE IS NONE."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+ADVICE REJECTED.
+
+
+During dinner the ladies conversed freely about "that horrid man,"
+wondering what plan he would adopt to try to effect an entrance among
+them. They were convinced that some such attempt would be made, and
+the servants of the inn who waited on them were strictly charged to
+see that no one disturbed them. However, their dinner was not
+interrupted and after it was over they began to think of retiring, so
+as to leave at an early hour on the following morning. Minnie had
+already taken her departure, and the others were thinking of following
+her example, when a knock came at the door.
+
+All started. One of the maids went to the door, and found a servant
+there who brought a message from the Baron Atramonte. He wished to
+speak to the ladies on business of the most urgent importance. At this
+confirmation of their expectations the ladies looked at one another
+with a smile mingled with vexation, and Lady Dalrymple at once sent
+word that they could not possibly see him.
+
+But the Baron was not to be put off. In a few moments the servant came
+back again, and brought another message, of a still more urgent
+character, in which the Baron entreated them to grant him this
+interview, and assured them that it was a matter of life and death.
+
+"He's beginning to be more and more violent," said Lady Dalrymple.
+"Well, dears," she added, resignedly, "in my opinion it will be better
+to see him, and have done with him. If we do not, I'm afraid he will
+pester us further. I will see him. You had better retire to your own
+apartments."
+
+Upon this she sent down an invitation to the Baron to come up, and the
+ladies retreated to their rooms.
+
+The Baron entered, and, as usual, offered to shake hands--an offer
+which, as usual, Lady Dalrymple did not accept. He then looked
+earnestly all round the room, and gave a sigh. He evidently had
+expected to see Minnie, and was disappointed. Lady Dalrymple marked
+the glance, and the expression which followed.
+
+"Well, ma'am," said he, as he seated himself near to Lady Dalrymple,
+"I said that the business I wanted to speak about was important, and
+that it was a matter of life and death. I assure you that it is. But
+before I tell it I want to say something about the row in Rome. I have
+reason to understand that I caused a little annoyance to you all. If I
+did, I'm sure I didn't intend it. I'm sorry. There! Let's say no more
+about it. 'Tain't often that I say I'm sorry, but I say so now.
+Conditionally, though--that is, if I really _did_ annoy any body."
+
+"Well, Sir?"
+
+"Well, ma'am--about the business I came for. You have made a sudden
+decision to take this journey. I want to know, ma'am, if you made any
+inquiries about this road before starting?"
+
+"This road? No, certainly not."
+
+"I thought so," said the Baron. "Well, ma'am, I've reason to believe
+that it's somewhat unsafe."
+
+"Unsafe?"
+
+"Yes; particularly for ladies."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Why, ma'am, the country is in a disordered state, and near the
+boundary line it swarms with brigands. They call themselves
+Garibaldians, but between you and me, ma'am, they're neither more nor
+less than robbers. You see, along the boundary it is convenient for
+them to dodge to one side or the other, and where the road runs there
+are often crowds of them. Now our papal government means well, but it
+ain't got power to keep down these brigands. It would like to, but it
+can't. You see, the scum of all Italy gather along the borders,
+because they know we _are_ weak; and so there it is."
+
+"And you think there is danger on this road?" said Lady Dalrymple,
+looking keenly at him.
+
+"I do, ma'am."
+
+"Pray have you heard of any recent acts of violence along the road?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Then what reason have you for supposing that there is any particular
+danger now?"
+
+"A friend of mine told me so, ma'am."
+
+"But do not people use the road? Are not carriages constantly passing
+and repassing? Is it likely that if it were unsafe there would be no
+acts of violence? Yet you say there have been none."
+
+"Not of late, ma'am."
+
+"But it is of late, and of the present time, that we are speaking."
+
+"I can only say, ma'am, that the road is considered very dangerous."
+
+"Who considers it so?"
+
+"If you had made inquiries at Rome, ma'am, you would have found this
+out, and never would have thought of this road."
+
+"And you advise us not to travel it?"
+
+"I do, ma'am."
+
+"What would you advise us to do?"
+
+"I would advise you, ma'am, most earnestly, to turn and go back to
+Rome, and leave by another route."
+
+Lady Dalrymple looked at him, and a slight smile quivered on her lips.
+
+"I see, ma'am, that for some reason or other you doubt my word. Would
+you put confidence in it if another person were to confirm what I have
+said?"
+
+"That depends entirely upon who the other person may be."
+
+"The person I mean is Lord Hawbury."
+
+"Lord Hawbury? Indeed!" said Lady Dalrymple, in some surprise. "But
+he's in Rome."
+
+"No, ma'am, he's not. He's here--in this hotel."
+
+"In this hotel? Here?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I'm sure I should like to see him very much, and hear what he says
+about it."
+
+"I'll go and get him, then," said the Baron, and, rising briskly, he
+left the room.
+
+In a short time he returned with Hawbury. Lady Dalrymple expressed
+surprise to see him, and Hawbury explained that he was traveling with
+a friend. Lady Dalrymple, of course, thought this a fresh proof of his
+infatuation about Minnie, and wondered how he could be a friend to a
+man whom she considered as Minnie's persecutor and tormentor.
+
+The Baron at once proceeded to explain how the matter stood, and to
+ask Hawbury's opinion.
+
+"Yes," said Lady Dalrymple, "I should really like to know what you
+think about it."
+
+"Well, really," said Hawbury, "I have no acquaintance with the thing,
+you know. Never been on this road in my life. But, at the same time, I
+can assure you that this gentleman is a particular friend of mine, and
+one of the best fellows I know. I'd stake my life on his perfect truth
+and honor. If he says any thing, you may believe it because he says
+it. If he says there are brigands on the road, they must be there."
+
+"Oh, of course," said Lady Dalrymple. "You are right to believe your
+friend, and I should trust his word also. But do you not see that
+perhaps he may believe what he says, and yet be mistaken?"
+
+At this the Baron's face fell. Lord Hawbury's warm commendation of him
+had excited his hopes, but now Lady Dalrymple's answer had destroyed
+them.
+
+"For my part," she added, "I don't really think any of us know much
+about it. I wish we could find some citizen of the town, or some
+reliable person, and ask him. I wonder whether the inn-keeper is a
+trust-worthy man."
+
+The Baron shook his head.
+
+"I wouldn't trust one of them. They're the greatest rascals in the
+country. Every man of them is in league with the Garibaldians and
+brigands. This man would advise you to take whatever course would
+benefit himself and his friends most."
+
+"But surely we might find some one whose opinion would be reliable.
+What do you say to one of my drivers? The one that drove our carriage
+looks like a good, honest man."
+
+"Well, perhaps so; but I wouldn't trust one of them. I don't believe
+there's an honest vetturino in all Italy."
+
+Lady Dalrymple elevated her eyebrows, and threw at Hawbury a glance of
+despair.
+
+"He speaks English, too," said Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"So do some of the worst rascals in the country," said the Baron.
+
+"Oh, I don't think he can be a very bad rascal. We had better question
+him, at any rate. Don't you think so, Lord Hawbury?"
+
+"Well, yes; I suppose it won't do any harm to have a look at the
+beggar."
+
+The driver alluded to was summoned, and soon made his appearance. He
+was a square-headed fellow, with a grizzled beard, and one of those
+non-committal faces which may be worn by either an honest man or a
+knave. Lady Dalrymple thought him the former; the Baron the latter.
+The result will show which of these was in the right.
+
+The driver spoke very fair English. He had been two or three times
+over the road. He had not been over it later than two years before. He
+didn't know it was dangerous. He had never heard of brigands being
+here. He didn't know. There was a signore at the hotel who might know.
+He was traveling to Florence alone. He was on horseback.
+
+As soon as Lady Dalrymple heard this she suspected that it was Count
+Girasole. She determined to have his advice about it. So she sent a
+private request to that effect.
+
+It was Count Girasole. He entered, and threw his usual smile around.
+He was charmed, in his broken English, to be of any service to miladi.
+
+To Lady Dalrymple's statement and question Girasole listened
+attentively. As she concluded a faint smile passed over his face. The
+Baron watched him attentively.
+
+"I know no brigand on dissa road," said he.
+
+Lady Dalrymple looked triumphantly at the others.
+
+"I have travail dissa road many time. No dangaire--alla safe."
+
+Another smile from Lady Dalrymple.
+
+The Count Girasole looked at Hawbury and then at the Baron, with a
+slight dash of mockery in his face.
+
+"As for dangaire," he said--"pouf! dere is none. See, I go alone--no
+arms, not a knife--an' yet gold in my porte-monnaie."
+
+And he drew forth his porte-monnaie, and opened it so as to exhibit
+its contents.
+
+A little further conversation followed. Girasole evidently was
+perfectly familiar with the road. The idea of brigands appeared to
+strike him as some exquisite piece of pleasantry. He looked as though
+it was only his respect for the company which prevented him from
+laughing outright. They had taken the trouble to summon him for that!
+And, besides, as the Count suggested, even if a brigand did appear,
+there would be always travelers within hearing.
+
+Both Hawbury and the Baron felt humiliated, especially the latter; and
+Girasole certainly had the best of it on that occasion, whatever his
+lot had been at other times.
+
+The Count withdrew. The Baron followed, in company with Hawbury. He
+was deeply dejected. First of all, he had hoped to see Minnie. Then he
+hoped to frighten the party back. As to the brigands, he was in most
+serious earnest. All that he said he believed. He could not understand
+the driver and Count Girasole. The former he might consider a
+scoundrel; but why should Girasole mislead? And yet he believed that
+he was right. As for Hawbury, he didn't believe much in the brigands,
+but he did believe in his friend, and he didn't think much of
+Girasole. He was sorry for his friend, yet didn't know whether he
+wanted the party to turn back or not. His one trouble was Dacres, who
+now was watching the Italian like a blood-hound, who had seen him, no
+doubt, go up to the ladies, and, of course, would suppose that Mrs.
+Willoughby had sent for him.
+
+As for the ladies, their excitement was great. The doors were thin,
+and they had heard every word of the conversation. With Mrs.
+Willoughby there was but one opinion as to the Baron's motive: she
+thought he had come to get a peep at Minnie, and also to frighten them
+back to Rome by silly stories. His signal failure afforded her great
+triumph. Minnie, as usual, sympathized with him, but said nothing. As
+for Ethel, the sudden arrival of Lord Hawbury was overwhelming, and
+brought a return of all her former excitement. The sound of his voice
+again vibrated through her, and at first there began to arise no end
+of wild hopes, which, however, were as quickly dispelled. The question
+arose, What brought him there? There seemed to her but one answer, and
+that was his infatuation for Minnie. Yet to her, as well as to Lady
+Dalrymple, it seemed very singular that he should be so warm a friend
+to Minnie's tormentor. It was a puzzling thing. Perhaps he did not
+know that the Baron was Minnie's lover. Perhaps he thought that his
+friend would give her up, and he could win her. Amidst these thoughts
+there came a wild hope that perhaps he did not love Minnie so very
+much, after all. But this hope soon was dispelled as she recalled the
+events of the past, and reflected on his cool and easy indifference to
+every thing connected with her.
+
+Such emotions as these actuated the ladies; and when the guests had
+gone they joined their aunt once more, and deliberated. Minnie took no
+part in the debate, but sat apart, looking like an injured being.
+There was among them all the same opinion, and that was that it was
+all a clumsy device of the Baron's to frighten them back to Rome. Such
+being their opinion, they did not occupy much time in debating about
+their course on the morrow. The idea of going back did not enter their
+heads.
+
+This event gave a much more agreeable feeling to Mrs. Willoughby and
+Lady Dalrymple than they had known since they had been aware that the
+Baron had followed them. They felt that they had grappled with the
+difficulty. They had met the enemy and defeated him. Besides, the
+presence of Hawbury was of itself a guarantee of peace. There could be
+no further danger of any unpleasant scenes while Hawbury was with him.
+Girasole's presence, also, was felt to be an additional guarantee of
+safety.
+
+It was felt by all to be a remarkable circumstance that so many men
+should have followed them on what they had intended as quite a secret
+journey. These gentlemen who followed them were the very ones, and the
+only ones, from whom they wished to conceal it. Yet it had all been
+revealed to them, and lo! here they all were. Some debate arose as to
+whether it would not be better to go back to Rome now, and defy the
+Baron, and leave by another route. But this debate was soon given up,
+and they looked forward to the journey as one which might afford new
+and peculiar enjoyment.
+
+On the following morning they started at an early hour. Girasole left
+about half an hour after them, and passed them a few miles along the
+road. The Baron and the Reverend Saul left next; and last of all came
+Hawbury and Dacres. The latter was, if possible, more gloomy and
+vengeful than ever. The visit of the Italian on the preceding evening
+was fully believed by him to be a scheme of his wife's. Nor could any
+amount of persuasion or vehement statement on Hawbury's part in any
+way shake his belief.
+
+"No," he would say, "you don't understand. Depend upon it, she got him
+up there to feast her eyes on him. Depend upon it, she managed to get
+some note from him, and pass one to him in return. He had only to run
+it under the leaf of a table, or stick it inside of some book: no
+doubt they have it all arranged, and pass their infernal love-letters
+backward and forward. But I'll soon have a chance. My time is coming.
+It's near, too. I'll have my vengeance; and then for all the wrongs of
+all my life that demon of a woman shall pay me dear!"
+
+To all of which Hawbury had nothing to say. He could say nothing; he
+could do nothing. He could only stand by his friend, go with him, and
+watch over him, hoping to avert the crisis which he dreaded, or, if it
+did come, to lessen the danger of his friend.
+
+The morning was clear and beautiful. The road wound among the hills.
+The party went in the order above mentioned.
+
+First, Girasole, on horseback.
+
+Next, and two miles at least behind, came the two carriages with the
+ladies and their maids.
+
+Third, and half a mile behind these, came the Baron and the Reverend
+Saul.
+
+Last of all, and half a mile behind the Baron, came Hawbury and Scone
+Dacres.
+
+These last drove along at about this distance. The scenery around grew
+grander, and the mountains higher. The road was smooth and well
+constructed, and the carriage rolled along with an easy, comfortable
+rumble.
+
+They were driving up a slope which wound along the side of a hill. At
+the top of the hill trees appeared on each side, and the road made a
+sharp turn here.
+
+Suddenly the report of a shot sounded ahead.
+
+Then a scream.
+
+"Good Lord! Dacres, did you hear that?" cried Hawbury. "The Baron was
+right, after all."
+
+The driver here tried to stop his horses, but Hawbury would not let
+him.
+
+"Have you a pistol, Dacres?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Get out!" he shouted to the driver; and, kicking him out of the seat,
+he seized the reins himself, and drove the horses straight forward to
+where the noise arose.
+
+"It's the brigands, Dacres. The ladies are there."
+
+"My wife! O God! my wife!" groaned Dacres. But a minute before he had
+been cursing her.
+
+"Get a knife! Get something, man! Have a fight for it!"
+
+Dacres murmured something.
+
+Hawbury lashed the horses, and drove them straight toward the wood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+CAUGHT IN AMBUSH.
+
+
+The ladies had been driving on, quite unconscious of the neighborhood
+of any danger, admiring the beauty of the scenery, and calling one
+another's attention to the various objects of interest which from time
+to time became visible. Thus engaged, they slowly ascended the incline
+already spoken of, and began to enter the forest. They had not gone
+far when the road took a sudden turn, and here a startling spectacle
+burst upon their view.
+
+The road on turning descended slightly into a hollow. On the right
+arose a steep acclivity, covered with the dense forest. On the other
+side the ground rose more gradually, and was covered over by a forest
+much less dense. Some distance in front the road took another turn,
+and was lost to view among the trees. About a hundred yards in front
+of them a tree had been felled, and lay across the way, barring their
+progress.
+
+About twenty armed men stood before them close by the place where the
+turn was. Among them was a man on horseback. To their amazement, it
+was Girasole.
+
+Before the ladies could recover from their astonishment two of the
+armed men advanced, and the driver at once stopped the carriage.
+
+Girasole then came forward.
+
+"Miladi," said he, "I haf de honore of to invitar you to descend."
+
+"Pray what is the meaning of this?" inquired Lady Dalrymple, with much
+agitation.
+
+"It means dat I war wrong. Dere are brigand on dis road."
+
+Lady Dalrymple said not another word.
+
+The Count approached, and politely offered his hand to assist the
+ladies out, but they rejected it, and got out themselves. First Mrs.
+Willoughby, then Ethel, then Lady Dalrymple, then Minnie. Three of the
+ladies were white with utter horror, and looked around in sickening
+fear upon the armed men; but Minnie showed not even the slightest
+particle of fear.
+
+"How horrid!" she exclaimed. "And now some one will come and save my
+life again. It's _always_ the way. I'm sure _this_ isn't my fault,
+Kitty darling."
+
+Before her sister could say any thing Girasole approached.
+
+"Pardon, mees," he said; "but I haf made dis recepzion for you. You
+sall be well treat. Do not fear. I lay down my life."
+
+"Villain!" cried Lady Dalrymple. "Arrest her at your peril. Remember
+who she is. She has friends powerful enough to avenge her if you dare
+to injure her."
+
+"You arra mistake," said Girasole, politely. "Se is mine, not yours. I
+am her best fren. Se is fiancee to me. I save her life--tell her my
+love--make a proposezion. Se accept me. Se is my fiancee. I was oppose
+by you. What else sall I do? I mus haf her. Se is mine. I am an
+Italiano nobile, an' I love her. Dere is no harm for any. You mus see
+dat I haf de right. But for me se would be dead."
+
+Lady Dalrymple was not usually excitable, but now her whole nature was
+aroused; her eyes flashed with indignation; her face turned red; she
+gasped for breath, and fell to the ground. Ethel rushed to assist her,
+and two of the maids came up. Lady Dalrymple lay senseless.
+
+With Mrs. Willoughby the result was different. She burst into tears.
+
+"Count Girasole," she cried, "oh, spare her! If you love her, spare
+her. She is only a child. If we opposed you, it was not from any
+objection to you; it was because she is such a child."
+
+"You mistake," said the Count, shrugging his shoulders. "I love her
+better than life. Se love me. It will make her happy. You come too.
+You sall see se is happy. Come. Be my sistaire. It is love--"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby burst into fresh tears at this, and flung her arms
+around Minnie, and moaned and wept.
+
+"Well, now, Kitty darling, I think it's horrid. You're _never_
+satisfied. You're always finding fault. I'm sure if you don't like
+Rufus K. Gunn, you--"
+
+But Minnie's voice was interrupted by the sound of approaching wheels.
+It was the carriage of the Baron and his friend. The Baron had feared
+brigands, but he was certainly not expecting to come upon them so
+suddenly. The brigands had been prepared, and as the carriage turned
+it was suddenly stopped by the two carriages in front, and at once was
+surrounded.
+
+The Baron gave one lightning glance, and surveyed the whole situation.
+He did not move, but his form was rigid, and every nerve was braced,
+and his eyes gleamed fiercely. He saw it all--the crowd of women, the
+calm face of Minnie, and the uncontrollable agitation of Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+"Well, by thunder!" he exclaimed.
+
+Girasole rode up and called out:
+
+"Surrender! You arra my prisoner."
+
+"What! it's you, is it?" said the Baron; and he glared for a moment
+with a vengeful look at Girasole.
+
+"Descend," said Girasole. "You mus be bound."
+
+"Bound? All right. Here, parson, you jump down, and let them tie your
+hands."
+
+The Baron stood up. The Reverend Saul stood up too. The Reverend Saul
+began to step down very carefully. The brigands gathered around, most
+of them being on the side on which the two were about to descend. The
+Reverend Saul had just stepped to the ground. The Baron was just
+preparing to follow. The brigands were impatient to secure them, when
+suddenly, with a quick movement, the Baron gave a spring out of the
+opposite side of the carriage, and leaped to the ground. The brigands
+were taken completely by surprise, and before they could prepare to
+follow him, he had sprung into the forest, and, with long bounds, was
+rushing up the steep hill and out of sight.
+
+One shot was fired after him, and that was the shot that Hawbury and
+Dacres heard. Two men sprang after him with the hope of catching him.
+
+In a few moments a loud cry was heard from the woods.
+
+"MIN!"
+
+Minnie heard it; a gleam of light flashed from her eyes, a smile of
+triumph came over her lips.
+
+"Wha-a-a-a-t?" she called in reply.
+
+"Wa-a-a-a-a-a-it!" was the cry that came back--and this was the cry
+that Hawbury and Dacres had heard.
+
+"Sacr-r-r-r-r-r-remento!" growled Girasole.
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know what he means by telling me that," said
+Minnie. "How can _I_ wait if this horrid Italian won't let me? I'm
+sure he might be more considerate."
+
+Poor Mrs. Willoughby, who had for a moment been roused to hope by the
+escape of the Baron, now fell again into despair, and wept and moaned
+and clung to Minnie. Lady Dalrymple still lay senseless, in spite of
+the efforts of Ethel and the maids. The occurrence had been more to
+her than a mere encounter with brigands. It was the thought of her own
+carelessness that overwhelmed her. In an instant the thought of the
+Baron's warning and his solemn entreaties flashed across her memory.
+She recollected how Hawbury had commended his friend, and how she had
+turned from these to put her trust in the driver and Girasole, the
+very men who had betrayed her. These were the thoughts that
+overwhelmed her.
+
+But now there arose once more the noise of rolling wheels, advancing
+more swiftly than the last, accompanied by the lash of a whip and
+shouts of a human voice. Girasole spoke to his men, and they moved up
+nearer to the bend, and stood in readiness there.
+
+What Hawbury's motive was it is not difficult to tell. He was not
+armed, and therefore could not hope to do much; but he had in an
+instant resolved to rush thus into the midst of the danger. First of
+all he thought that a struggle might be going on between the drivers,
+the other travelers, and the brigands; in which event his assistance
+would be of great value. Though unarmed, he thought he might snatch or
+wrest a weapon from some one of the enemy. In addition to this, he
+wished to strike a blow to save the ladies from captivity, even if his
+blow should be unavailing. Even if he had known how matters were, he
+would probably have acted in precisely the same way. As for Dacres, he
+had but one idea. He was sure it was some trick concocted by his wife
+and the Italian, though why they should do so he did not stop, in his
+mad mood, to inquire. A vague idea that a communication had passed
+between them on the preceding evening with reference to this was now
+in his mind, and his vengeful feeling was stimulated by this thought
+to the utmost pitch of intensity.
+
+Hawbury thus lashed his horses, and they flew along the road. After
+the first cry and the shot that they had heard there was no further
+noise. The stillness was mysterious. It showed Hawbury that the
+struggle, if there had been any, was over. But the first idea still
+remained both in his own mind and in that of Dacres. On they went, and
+now they came to the turn in the road. Round this they whirled, and in
+an instant the scene revealed itself.
+
+Three carriages stopped; some drivers standing and staring
+indifferently; a group of women crowding around a prostrate form that
+lay in the road; a pale, beautiful girl, to whom a beautiful woman was
+clinging passionately; a crowd of armed brigands with leveled pieces;
+and immediately before them a horseman--the Italian, Girasole.
+
+One glance showed all this. Hawbury could not distinguish any face
+among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel's
+face was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby
+and Girasole.
+
+"What the devil's all this about?" asked Hawbury, haughtily, as his
+horses stopped at the Baron's carriage.
+
+"You are prisoners--" began Girasole.
+
+But before he could say another word he was interrupted by a cry of
+fury from Dacres, who, the moment that he had recognized him, sprang
+to his feet, and with a long, keen knife in his hand, leaped from the
+carriage into the midst of the brigands, striking right and left, and
+endeavoring to force his way toward Girasole. In an instant Hawbury
+was by his side. Two men fell beneath the fierce thrusts of Dacres's
+knife, and Hawbury tore the rifle from a third. With the clubbed end
+of this he began dealing blows right and left. The men fell back and
+leveled their pieces. Dacres sprang forward, and was within three
+steps of Girasole--his face full of ferocity, his eyes flashing, and
+looking not so much like an English gentleman as one of the old
+vikings in a Berserker rage. One more spring brought him closer to
+Girasole. The Italian retreated. One of his men flung himself before
+Dacres and tried to grapple with him. The next instant he fell with a
+groan, stabbed to the heart. With a yell of rage the others rushed
+upon Dacres; but the latter was now suddenly seized with a new idea.
+Turning for an instant he held his assailants at bay; and then,
+seizing the opportunity, sprang into the woods and ran. One or two
+shots were fired, and then half a dozen men gave chase.
+
+Meanwhile one or two shots had been fired at Hawbury, but, in the
+confusion, they had not taken effect. Suddenly, as he stood with
+uplifted rifle ready to strike, his enemies made a simultaneous rush
+upon him. He was seized by a dozen strong arms. He struggled fiercely,
+but his efforts were unavailing. The odds were too great. Before long
+he was thrown to the ground on his face, and his arms bound behind
+him. After this he was gagged.
+
+The uproar of this fierce struggle had roused all the ladies, and they
+turned their eyes in horror to where the two were fighting against
+such odds. Ethel raised herself on her knees from beside Lady
+Dalrymple, and caught sight of Hawbury. For a moment she remained
+motionless; and then she saw the escape of Dacres, and Hawbury going
+down in the grasp of his assailants. She gave a loud shriek and rushed
+forward. But Girasole intercepted her.
+
+"Go back," he said. "De milor is my prisoner. Back, or you will be
+bound."
+
+And at a gesture from him two of the men advanced to seize Ethel.
+
+"Back!" he said, once more, in a stern voice. "You mus be tentif to
+miladi."
+
+Ethel shrank back.
+
+The sound of that scream had struck on Hawbury's ears, but he did not
+recognize it. If he thought of it at all, he supposed it was the
+scream of common terror from one of the women. He was sore and bruised
+and fast bound. He was held down also in such a way that he could not
+see the party of ladies. The Baron's carriage intercepted the view,
+for he had fallen behind this during the final struggle. After a
+little time he was allowed to sit up, but still he could not see
+beyond.
+
+There was now some delay, and Girasole gave some orders to his men.
+The ladies waited with fearful apprehensions. They listened eagerly to
+hear if there might not be some sounds of approaching help. But no
+such sounds came to gladden their hearts. Lady Dalrymple, also, still
+lay senseless; and Ethel, full of the direst anxiety about Hawbury,
+had to return to renew her efforts toward reviving her aunt.
+
+Before long the brigands who had been in pursuit of the fugitives
+returned to the road. They did not bring back either of them. A
+dreadful question arose in the minds of the ladies as to the meaning
+of this. Did it mean that the fugitives had escaped, or had been shot
+down in the woods by their wrathful pursuers? It was impossible for
+them to find out. Girasole went over to them and conversed with them
+apart. The men all looked sullen; but whether that arose from
+disappointed vengeance or gratified ferocity it was impossible for
+them to discern.
+
+[Illustration: THE MELEE.]
+
+The brigands now turned their attention to their own men. Two of these
+had received bad but not dangerous wounds from the dagger of Dacres,
+and the scowls of pain and rage which they threw upon Hawbury and the
+other captives boded nothing but the most cruel fate to all of them.
+Another, however, still lay there. It was the one who had intercepted
+Dacres in his rush upon Girasole. He lay motionless in a pool of
+blood. They turned him over. His white, rigid face, as it became
+exposed to view, exhibited the unmistakable mark of death, and a gash
+on his breast showed how his fate had met him.
+
+The brigands uttered loud cries, and advanced toward Hawbury. He sat
+regarding them with perfect indifference. They raised their rifles,
+some clubbing them, others taking aim, swearing and gesticulating all
+the time like maniacs.
+
+Hawbury, however, did not move a muscle of his face, nor did he show
+the slightest feeling of any kind. He was covered with dust, and his
+clothes were torn and splashed with mud, and his hands were bound, and
+his mouth was gagged; but he preserved a coolness that astonished his
+enemies. Had it not been for this coolness his brains might have been
+blown out--in which case this narrative would never have been written;
+but there was something in his look which made the Italians pause,
+gave Girasole time to interfere, and thus preserved my story from
+ruin.
+
+Girasole then came up and made his men stand back. They obeyed
+sullenly.
+
+Girasole removed the gag.
+
+Then he stood and looked at Hawbury. Hawbury sat and returned his look
+with his usual nonchalance, regarding the Italian with a cold, steady
+stare, which produced upon the latter its usual maddening effect.
+
+"Milor will be ver glad to hear," said he, with a mocking smile, "dat
+de mees will be take good care to. Milor was attentif to de mees; but
+de mees haf been fiancee to me, an' so I take dis occazione to mak her
+mine. I sall love her, an' se sall love me. I haf save her life, an'
+se haf been fiancee to me since den."
+
+Now Girasole had chosen to say this to Hawbury from the conviction
+that Hawbury was Minnie's lover, and that the statement of this would
+inflict a pang upon the heart of his supposed rival which would
+destroy his coolness. Thus he chose rather to strike at Hawbury's
+jealousy than at his fear or at his pride.
+
+But he was disappointed. Hawbury heard his statement with utter
+indifference.
+
+"Well," said he, "all I can say is that it seems to me to be a
+devilish odd way of going to work about it."
+
+"Aha!" said Girasole, fiercely. "You sall see. Se sall be mine. Aha!"
+
+Hawbury made no reply, and Girasole, after a gesture of impatience,
+walked off, baffled.
+
+In a few minutes two men came up to Hawbury, and led him away to the
+woods on the left.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY SAW A RUINED HOUSE."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+AMONG THE BRIGANDS.
+
+
+Girasole now returned to the ladies. They were in the same position in
+which he had left them. Mrs. Willoughby with Minnie, and Ethel, with
+the maids, attending to Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole, "I beg your attenzion. I haf had de honore to
+inform you dat dis mees is my fiancee. Se haf give me her heart an'
+her hand; se love me, an' I love her. I was prevent from to see her,
+an' I haf to take her in dis mannaire. I feel sad at de pain I haf
+give you, an' assuir you dat it was inevitabile. You sall not be
+troubled more. You are free. Mees," he continued, taking Minnie's
+hand, "you haf promis me dis fair han', an' you are mine. You come to
+one who loves you bettaire dan life, an' who you love. You owe youair
+life to me. I sall make it so happy as nevair was."
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't want to be happy," said Minnie. "I don't _want_ to
+leave darling Kitty--and it's a shame--and you'll make me _hate_ you
+if you do so."
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole to Mrs. Willoughby, "de mees says se not want
+to leaf you. Eef you want to come, you may come an' be our sistaire."
+
+"Oh, Kitty darling, you won't leave me, will you, all alone with this
+horrid man?" said Minnie.
+
+"My darling," moaned Mrs. Willoughby, "how can I? I'll go. Oh, my
+sweet sister, what misery!"
+
+"Oh, now that will be really _quite_ delightful if you _will_ come,
+Kitty darling. Only I'm afraid you'll find it awfully uncomfortable."
+
+Girasole turned once more to the other ladies.
+
+"I beg you will assura de miladi when she recovaire of my
+considerazion de mos distingue, an' convey to her de regrettas dat I
+haf. Miladi," he continued, addressing Ethel, "you are free, an' can
+go. You will not be molest by me. You sall go safe. You haf not ver
+far. You sall fin' houses dere--forward--before--not far."
+
+With these words he turned away.
+
+"You mus come wit me," he said to Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie. "Come.
+Eet ees not ver far."
+
+He walked slowly into the woods on the left, and the two sisters
+followed him. Of the two Minnie was far the more cool and collected.
+She was as composed as usual; and, as there was no help for it, she
+walked on. Mrs. Willoughby, however, was terribly agitated, and wept
+and shuddered and moaned incessantly.
+
+"Kitty darling," said Minnie, "I _wish_ you wouldn't go on so. You
+really make me feel quite nervous. I never saw you so bad in my life."
+
+"Poor Minnie! Poor child! Poor sweet child!"
+
+"Well, if I am a child, you needn't go and tell me about it all the
+time. It's really quite horrid."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said no more, but generously tried to repress her own
+feelings, so as not to give distress to her sister.
+
+After the Count had entered the wood with the two sisters the drivers
+removed the horses from the carriages and went away, led off by the
+man who had driven the ladies. This was the man whose stolid face had
+seemed likely to belong to an honest man, but who now was shown to
+belong to the opposite class. These men went down the road over which
+they had come, leaving the carriages there with the ladies and their
+maids.
+
+Girasole now led the way, and Minnie and her sister followed him. The
+wood was very thick, and grew more so as they advanced, but there was
+not much underbrush, and progress was not difficult. Several times a
+wild thought of flight came to Mrs. Willoughby, but was at once
+dispelled by a helpless sense of its utter impossibility. How could
+she persuade the impracticable Minnie, who seemed so free from all
+concern? or, if she could persuade her, how could she accomplish her
+desire? She would at once be pursued and surrounded, while, even if
+she did manage to escape, how could she ever find her way to any place
+of refuge? Every minute, also, drew them deeper and deeper into the
+woods, and the path was a winding one, in which she soon became
+bewildered, until at last all sense of her whereabouts was utterly
+gone. At last even the idea of escaping ceased to suggest itself, and
+there remained only a dull despair, a sense of utter helplessness and
+hopelessness--the sense of one who is going to his doom.
+
+Girasole said nothing whatever, but led the way in silence, walking
+slowly enough to accommodate the ladies, and sometimes holding an
+overhanging branch to prevent it from springing back in their faces.
+Minnie walked on lightly, and with an elastic step, looking around
+with evident interest upon the forest. Once a passing lizard drew from
+her a pretty little shriek of alarm, thus showing that while she was
+so calm in the face of real and frightful danger, she could be alarmed
+by even the most innocent object that affected her fancy. Mrs.
+Willoughby thought that she understood Minnie before, but this little
+shriek at a lizard, from one who smiled at the brigands, struck her as
+a problem quite beyond her power to solve.
+
+The woods now began to grow thinner. The trees were larger and farther
+apart, and rose all around in columnar array, so that it was possible
+to see between them to a greater distance. At length there appeared
+before them, through the trunks of the trees, the gleam of water. Mrs.
+Willoughby noticed this, and wondered what it might be. At first she
+thought it was a harbor on the coast; then she thought it was some
+river; but finally, on coming nearer, she saw that it was a lake. In a
+few minutes after they first caught sight of it they had reached its
+banks.
+
+It was a most beautiful and sequestered spot. All around were high
+wooded eminences, beyond whose undulating summits arose the towering
+forms of the Apennine heights. Among these hills lay a little lake
+about a mile in length and breadth, whose surface was as smooth as
+glass, and reflected the surrounding shores. On their right, as they
+descended, they saw some figures moving, and knew them to be the
+brigands, while on their left they saw a ruined house. Toward this
+Girasole led them.
+
+The house stood on the shore of the lake. It was of stone, and was two
+stories in height. The roof was still good, but the windows were gone.
+There was no door, but half a dozen or so of the brigands stood there,
+and formed a sufficient guard to prevent the escape of any prisoner.
+These men had dark, wicked eyes and sullen faces, which afforded fresh
+terror to Mrs. Willoughby. She had thought, in her desperation, of
+making some effort to escape by bribing the men, but the thorough-bred
+rascality which was evinced in the faces of these ruffians showed her
+that they were the very fellows who would take her money and cheat her
+afterward. If she had been able to speak Italian, she might have
+secured their services by the prospect of some future reward after
+escaping; but, as it was, she could not speak a word of the language,
+and thus could not enter upon even the preliminaries of an escape.
+
+On reaching the house the ruffians stood aside, staring hard at them.
+Mrs. Willoughby shrank in terror from the baleful glances of their
+eyes; but Minnie looked at them calmly and innocently, and not without
+some of that curiosity which a child shows when he first sees a
+Chinaman or an Arab in the streets. Girasole then led the way up
+stairs to a room on the second story.
+
+It was an apartment of large size, extending across the house, with a
+window at each end, and two on the side. On the floor there was a heap
+of straw, over which some skins were thrown. There were no chairs, nor
+was there any table.
+
+"Scusa me," said Girasole, "miladi, for dis accommodazion. It gifs me
+pain, but I promise it sall not be long. Only dis day an' dis night
+here. I haf to detain you dat time. Den we sall go to where I haf a
+home fitter for de bride. I haf a home wharra you sall be a happy
+bride, mees--"
+
+"But I don't want to stay here _at all_ in such a horrid place," said
+Minnie, looking around in disgust.
+
+"Only dis day an' dis night," said Girasole, imploringly. "Aftaire you
+sall have all you sall wis."
+
+"Well, at any rate, I think it's very horrid in you to shut me up
+here. You might let me walk outside in the woods. I'm so _aw_fully
+fond of the woods."
+
+Girasole smiled faintly.
+
+"And so you sall have plenty of de wood--but to-morra. You wait here
+now. All safe--oh yes--secura--all aright--oh yes--slip to-night, an'
+in de mornin' early you sall be mine. Dere sall come a priest, an' we
+sall have de ceremony."
+
+"Well, I think it was very unkind in you to bring me to such a horrid
+place. And how can I sit down? You _might_ have had a chair. And look
+at poor, darling Kitty. You may be unkind to me, but you needn't make
+_her_ sit on the floor. You never saved _her_ life, and you have no
+right to be unkind to her."
+
+"Unkind! Oh, mees!--my heart, my life, all arra youairs, an' I lay my
+life at youair foot."
+
+"I think it would be far more kind if you would put a chair at poor
+Kitty's feet," retorted Minnie, with some show of temper.
+
+"But, oh, carissima, tink--de wild wood--noting here--no, noting--not
+a chair--only de straw."
+
+"Then you had no business to bring me here. You might have known that
+there were no chairs here. I can't sit down on nothing. But I suppose
+you expect me to stand up. And if that isn't horrid, I don't know what
+is. I'm sure I don't know what poor dear papa would say if he were to
+see me now."
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS FOR?"]
+
+"Do not grieve, carissima mia--do not, charming mees, decompose
+yourself. To-morra you sall go to a bettaire place, an' I will carra
+you to my castello. You sall haf every want, you sall enjoy every wis,
+you sall be happy."
+
+"But I don't see how I can be happy without a chair," reiterated
+Minnie, in whose mind this one grievance now became pre-eminent. "You
+talk as though you think I am made of stone or iron, and you think I
+can stand here all day or all night, and you want me to sleep on that
+horrid straw and those horrid furry things. I suppose this is the
+castle that you speak of; and I'm sure I wonder why you _ever_ thought
+of bringing me here. I suppose it doesn't make so much difference
+about a _carpet_; but you will not even let me have a _chair_; and I
+think you're _very_ unkind."
+
+Girasole was in despair. He stood in thought for some time. He felt
+that Minnie's rebuke was deserved. If she had reproached him with
+waylaying her and carrying her off, he could have borne it, and could
+have found a reply. But such a charge as this was unanswerable. It
+certainly was very hard that she should not be able to sit down. But
+then how was it possible for him to find a chair in the woods? It was
+an insoluble problem. How in the world could he satisfy her?
+
+Minnie's expression also was most touching. The fact that she had no
+chair to sit on seemed to absolutely overwhelm her. The look that she
+gave Girasole was so piteous, so reproachful, so heart-rending, that
+his soul actually quaked, and a thrill of remorse passed all through
+his frame. He felt a cold chill running to the very marrow of his
+bones.
+
+"I think you're _very, very_ unkind," said Minnie, "and I really don't
+see how I can _ever_ speak to you again."
+
+This was too much. Girasole turned away. He rushed down stairs. He
+wandered frantically about. He looked in all directions for a chair.
+There was plenty of wood certainly--for all around he saw the vast
+forest--but of what use was it? He could not transform a tree into a
+chair. He communicated his difficulty to some of the men. They shook
+their heads helplessly. At last he saw the stump of a tree which was
+of such a shape that it looked as though it might be used as a seat.
+It was his only resource, and he seized it. Calling two or three of
+the men, he had the stump carried to the old house. He rushed up
+stairs to acquaint Minnie with his success, and to try to console her.
+She listened in coldness to his hasty words. The men who were carrying
+the stump came up with a clump and a clatter, breathing hard, for the
+stump was very heavy, and finally placed it on the landing in front of
+Minnie's door. On reaching that spot it was found that it would not go
+in.
+
+Minnie heard the noise and came out. She looked at the stump, then at
+the men and then at Girasole.
+
+"What is this for?" she asked.
+
+"Eet--eet ees for a chair."
+
+"A chair!" exclaimed Minnie. "Why, it's nothing but a great big,
+horrid, ugly old stump, and--"
+
+Her remarks ended in a scream. She turned and ran back into the room.
+
+"What--what is de mattaire?" cried the Count, looking into the room
+with a face pale with anxiety.
+
+"Oh, take it away! take it away!" cried Minnie, in terror.
+
+"What? what?"
+
+"Take it away! take it away!" she repeated.
+
+"But eet ees for you--eet ees a seat."
+
+"I don't want it. I won't have it!" cried Minnie. "It's full of horrid
+ants and things. And it's dreadful--and _very, very_ cruel in you to
+bring them up here just to _tease_ me, when you _know_ I hate them so.
+Take it away! take it away! oh, do please take it away! And oh, do
+please go away yourself, and leave me with dear, darling Kitty. _She_
+never teases me. She is _always_ kind."
+
+Girasole turned away once more, in fresh trouble. He had the stump
+carried off, and then he wandered away. He was quite at a loss what to
+do. He was desperately in love, and it was a very small request for
+Minnie to make, and he was in that state of mind when it would be a
+happiness to grant her slightest wish; but here he found himself in a
+difficulty from which he could find no possible means of escape.
+
+"And now, Kitty darling," said Minnie, after Girasole had gone--"now
+you see how very, very wrong you were to be so opposed to that dear,
+good, kind, nice Rufus K. Gunn. _He_ would never have treated me so.
+_He_ would never have taken me to a place like this--a horrid old
+house by a horrid damp pond, without doors and windows, just like a
+beggar's house--and then put me in a room without a chair to sit on
+when I'm so _aw_fully tired. He was _always_ kind to me, and that was
+the reason you hated him so, because you couldn't bear to have people
+kind to me. And I'm _so_ tired."
+
+"Come, then, poor darling. I'll make a nice seat for you out of these
+skins."
+
+And Mrs. Willoughby began to fold some of them up and lay them one
+upon the other.
+
+"What is that for, Kitty dear?" asked Minnie.
+
+"To make you a nice, soft seat, dearest."
+
+"But I don't want them, and I won't sit on the horrid things," said
+Minnie.
+
+"But, darling, they are as soft as a cushion. See!" And her sister
+pressed her hand on them, so as to show how soft they were.
+
+"I don't think they're soft _at all_," said Minnie; "and I wish you
+wouldn't tease me so, when I'm _so_ tired."
+
+"Then come, darling; I will sit on them, and you shall sit on my
+knees."
+
+"But I don't want to go near those horrid furry things. They belong to
+cows and things. I think _every body's_ unkind to me to-day."
+
+"Minnie, dearest, you really wound me when you talk in that way. Be
+reasonable now. See what pains I take. I do all I can for you."
+
+"But I'm _always_ reasonable, and it's _you_ that are unreasonable,
+when you want me to sit on that horrid fur. It's very, _very_
+disagreeable in you, Kitty dear."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby said nothing, but went on folding some more skins.
+These she placed on the straw so that a pile was formed about as high
+as an ordinary chair. This pile was placed against the wall so that
+the wall served as a support.
+
+Then she seated herself upon this.
+
+"Minnie, dearest," said she.
+
+"Well, Kitty darling."
+
+"It's really quite soft and comfortable. Do come and sit on it; do,
+just to please me, only for five minutes. See! I'll spread my dress
+over it so that you need not touch it. Come, dearest, only for five
+minutes."
+
+"Well, I'll sit on it just for a little mite of a time, if you promise
+not to tease me."
+
+"Tease you, dear! Why, of course not. Come."
+
+So Minnie went over and sat by her sister's side.
+
+In about an hour Girasole came back. The two sisters were seated
+there. Minnie's head was resting on her sister's shoulder, and she was
+fast asleep, while Mrs. Willoughby sat motionless, with her face
+turned toward him, and such an expression in her dark eyes that
+Girasole felt awed. He turned in silence and went away.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+SEEKING FOR HELP.
+
+
+The departure of the drivers with their horses had increased the
+difficulties of the party, and had added to their danger. Of that
+party Ethel was now the head, and her efforts were directed more
+zealously than ever to bring back Lady Dalrymple to her senses. At
+last these efforts were crowned with success, and, after being
+senseless for nearly an hour, she came to herself. The restoration of
+her senses, however, brought with it the discovery of all that had
+occurred, and thus caused a new rush of emotion, which threatened
+painful consequences. But the consequences were averted, and at length
+she was able to rise. She was then helped into her carriage, after
+which the question arose as to their next proceeding.
+
+[Illustration: "ETHEL OBTAINED A PAIR OF SCISSORS."]
+
+The loss of the horses and drivers was a very embarrassing thing to
+them, and for a time they were utterly at a loss what course to adopt.
+Lady Dalrymple was too weak to walk, and they had no means of
+conveying her. The maids had simply lost their wits from fright; and
+Ethel could not see her way clearly out of the difficulty. At this
+juncture they were roused by the approach of the Rev. Saul Tozer.
+
+This reverend man had been bound as he descended from his carriage,
+and had remained bound ever since. In that state he had been a
+spectator of the struggle and its consequences, and he now came
+forward to offer his services.
+
+"I don't know whether you remember me, ma'am," said he to Lady
+Dalrymple, "but I looked in at your place at Rome; and in any case I
+am bound to offer you my assistance, since you are companions with me
+in my bonds, which I'd be much obliged if one of you ladies would
+untie or cut. Perhaps it would be best to untie it, as rope's
+valuable."
+
+At this request Ethel obtained a pair of scissors from one of the
+maids, and after vigorous efforts succeeded in freeing the reverend
+gentleman.
+
+"Really, Sir, I am very much obliged for this kind offer," said Lady
+Dalrymple, "and I avail myself of it gratefully. Can you advise us
+what is best to do?"
+
+"Well, ma'am, I've been turning it over in my mind, and have made it a
+subject of prayer; and it seems to me that it wouldn't be bad to go
+out and see the country."
+
+"There are no houses for miles," said Ethel.
+
+"Have you ever been this road before?" said Tozer.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how do you know?"
+
+"Oh, I was thinking of the part we had passed over."
+
+"True; but the country in front may be different. Didn't that brigand
+captain say something about getting help ahead?"
+
+"Yes, so he did; I remember now," said Ethel.
+
+"Well, I wouldn't take his advice generally, but in this matter I
+don't see any harm in following it; so I move that I be a committee of
+one to go ahead and investigate the country and bring help."
+
+"Oh, thanks, thanks, very much. Really, Sir, this is very kind," said
+Lady Dalrymple.
+
+"And I'll go too," said Ethel, as a sudden thought occurred to her.
+"Would you be afraid, aunty dear, to stay here alone?"
+
+"Certainly not, dear. I have no more fear for myself, but I'm afraid
+to trust you out of my sight."
+
+"Oh, you need not fear for me," said Ethel. "I shall certainly be as
+safe farther on as I am here. Besides, if we can find help I will know
+best what is wanted."
+
+"Well, dear, I suppose you may go."
+
+Without further delay Ethel started off, and Tozer walked by her side.
+They went under the fallen tree, and then walked quickly along the
+road.
+
+"Do you speak Italian, miss?" asked Tozer.
+
+"No."
+
+"I'm sorry for that. I don't either. I'm told it's a fine language."
+
+"So I believe; but how very awkward it will be not to be able to speak
+to any person!"
+
+"Well, the Italian is a kind of offshoot of the Latin, and I can
+scrape together a few Latin words--enough to make myself understood, I
+do believe."
+
+"Can you, really? How very fortunate!"
+
+"It is somewhat providential, miss, and I hope I may succeed."
+
+They walked on in silence now for some time. Ethel was too sad to
+talk, and Tozer was busily engaged in recalling all the Latin at his
+command. After a while he began to grow sociable.
+
+"Might I ask, miss, what persuasion you are?"
+
+"Persuasion?" said Ethel, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, 'm; de-nomination--religious body, you know."
+
+"Oh! why, I belong to the Church."
+
+"Oh! and what church did you say, 'm?"
+
+"The Church of England."
+
+"H'm. The 'Piscopalian body. Well, it's a high-toned body."
+
+Ethel gave a faint smile at this whimsical application of a name to
+her church, and then Tozer returned to the charge.
+
+"Are you a professor?"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A professor."
+
+"A professor?" repeated Ethel. "I don't think I _quite_ understand
+you."
+
+"Well, do you belong to the church? Are you a member?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it. It's a high and a holy and a happy perrivelege
+to belong to the church and enjoy the means of grace. I trust you live
+up to your perriveleges?"
+
+"Live what?" asked Ethel.
+
+"Live up to your perriveleges," repeated Tozer--"attend on all the
+means of grace--be often at the assembling of yourself together."
+
+"The assembling of myself together? I don't think I _quite_ get your
+meaning," said Ethel.
+
+"Meeting, you know--church-meeting."
+
+"Oh yes; I didn't understand. Oh yes, I always go to church."
+
+"That's right," said Tozer, with a sigh of relief; "and I suppose,
+now, you feel an interest in the cause of missions?"
+
+"Missions? Oh, I don't know. The Roman Catholics practice that to some
+extent, and several of my friends say they feel benefit from a mission
+once a year; but for my part I have not yet any very decided leanings
+to Roman Catholicism."
+
+"Oh, dear me, dear me!" cried Tozer, "that's not what I mean at all; I
+mean Protestant missions to the heathen, you know."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Ethel. "I thought you were referring to
+something else."
+
+Tozer was silent now for a few minutes, and then asked her, abruptly,
+
+"What's your opinion about the Jews?"
+
+"The Jews?" exclaimed Ethel, looking at him in some surprise, and
+thinking that her companion must be a little insane to carry on such
+an extraordinary conversation with such very abrupt changes--"the
+Jews?"
+
+"Yes, the Jews."
+
+"Oh, I don't like them at all."
+
+"But they're the chosen people."
+
+"I can't help that. I don't like them. But then, you know, I never
+really saw much of them."
+
+"I refer to their future prospects," said Tozer--"to prophecy. I
+should like to ask you how you regard them in that light. Do you
+believe in a spiritual or a temporal Zion?"
+
+"Spiritual Zion? Temporal Zion?"
+
+"Yes, 'm."
+
+"Well, really, I don't know. I don't think I believe any thing at all
+about it."
+
+"But you _must_ believe in either one or the other--you've _got_ to,"
+said Tozer, positively.
+
+"But I _don't_, you know; and how can I?"
+
+Tozer threw at her a look of commiseration, and began to think that
+his companion was not much better than a heathen. In his own home
+circle he could have put his hand on little girls of ten who were
+quite at home on all these subjects. He was silent for a time, and
+then began again.
+
+"I'd like to ask you one thing," said he, "very much."
+
+"What is it?" asked Ethel.
+
+"Do you believe," asked Tozer, solemnly, "that we're living in the
+Seventh Vial?"
+
+"Vial? Seventh Vial?" said Ethel, in fresh amazement.
+
+"Yes, the Seventh Vial," said Tozer, in a sepulchral voice.
+
+"Living in the Seventh Vial? I really don't know how one can live in a
+vial."
+
+"The Great Tribulation, you know."
+
+"Great Tribulation?"
+
+"Yes; for instance, now, don't you believe in the Apocalyptic Beast?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ethel, faintly.
+
+"Well, at any rate, you believe in his number--you must."
+
+"His number?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, the number six, six, six--six hundred and sixty-six."
+
+"I really don't understand this," said Ethel.
+
+"Don't you believe that the Sixth Vial is done?"
+
+"Sixth Vial? What, another vial?"
+
+"Yes; and the drying of the Euphrates."
+
+"The Euphrates? drying?" repeated Ethel in a trembling voice. She
+began to be alarmed. She felt sure that this man was insane. She had
+never heard such incoherency in her life. And she was alone with him.
+She stole a timid look, and saw his long, sallow face, on which there
+was now a preoccupied expression, and the look did not reassure her.
+
+But Tozer himself was a little puzzled, and felt sure that his
+companion must have her own opinions on the subject, so he began
+again:
+
+"Now I suppose you've read Fleming on the Papacy?"
+
+"No, I haven't. I never heard of it."
+
+"Strange, too. You've heard of Elliot's 'Horae Apocalypticae?', I
+suppose?"
+
+"No," said Ethel, timidly.
+
+"Well, it's all in Cumming--and you've read him, of course?"
+
+"Cumming? I never heard of him. Who is he?"
+
+"What, never heard of Cumming?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"And never read his 'Great Tribulation?'"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor his 'Great Expectation?'"
+
+"No."
+
+"What! not even his 'Apocalyptic Sketches?'"
+
+"I never heard of them."
+
+[Illustration: "TONITRUENDUM EST MALUM!"]
+
+Tozer looked at her in astonishment; but at this moment they came to a
+turn in the road, when a sight appeared which drew from Ethel an
+expression of joy.
+
+It was a little valley on the right, in which was a small hamlet with
+a church. The houses were but small, and could not give them much
+accommodation, but they hoped to find help there.
+
+"I wouldn't trust the people," said Ethel. "I dare say they're all
+brigands; but there ought to be a priest there, and we can appeal to
+him."
+
+This proposal pleased Tozer, who resumed his work of collecting among
+the stores of his memory scraps of Latin which he had once stored away
+there.
+
+The village was at no very great distance away from the road, and they
+reached it in a short time. They went at once to the church. The door
+was open, and a priest, who seemed the village priest, was standing
+there. He was stout, with a good-natured expression on his hearty,
+rosy face, and a fine twinkle in his eye, which lighted up pleasantly
+as he saw the strangers enter.
+
+Tozer at once held out his hand and shook that of the priest.
+
+"Buon giorno," said the priest.
+
+Ethel shook her head.
+
+"Parlate Italiano?" said he.
+
+Ethel shook her head.
+
+"Salve, domine," said Tozer, who at once plunged headlong into Latin.
+
+"Salve bene," said the priest, in some surprise.
+
+"Quomodo vales?" asked Tozer.
+
+"Optime valeo, Dei gratia. Spero vos valere."
+
+Tozer found the priest's pronunciation a little difficult, but managed
+to understand him.
+
+"Domine," said he, "sumus viatores infelices et innocentes, in quos
+fures nuper impetum fecerunt. Omnia bona nostra arripuerunt--"
+
+"Fieri non potest!" said the priest.
+
+"Et omnes amicos nostros in captivitatem lachrymabilem tractaverunt--"
+
+"Cor dolet," said the priest; "miseret me vestrum."
+
+"Cujusmodi terra est haec in qua sustenendum est tot labores?"
+
+The priest sighed.
+
+"Tonitruendum est malum!" exclaimed Tozer, excited by the recollection
+of his wrongs.
+
+The priest stared.
+
+"In hostium manibus fuimus, et, bonum tonitru! omnia impedimenta
+amissimus. Est nimis omnipotens malum!"
+
+"Quid vis dicere?" said the priest, looking puzzled. "Quid tibi vis?"
+
+"Est nimis sempiternum durum!"
+
+"In nomine omnium sanctorum apostolorumque," cried the priest, "quid
+vis dicere?"
+
+"Potes ne juvare nos," continued Tozer, "in hoc lachrymabile tempore?
+Volo unum verum vivum virum qui possit--"
+
+"Diabolus arripiat me si possim unum solum verbum intelligere!" cried
+the priest. "Be jabers if I ondherstan' yez at all at all; an' there
+ye have it."
+
+And with this the priest raised his head, with its puzzled look, and
+scratched that organ with such a natural air, and with such a full
+Irish flavor in his brogue and in his face, that both of his visitors
+were perfectly astounded.
+
+"Good gracious!" cried Tozer; and seizing the priest's hand in both of
+his, he nearly wrung it off. "Why, what a providence! Why, really,
+now! And you were an Irishman all the time! And why didn't you speak
+English?"
+
+"Sure and what made you spake Latin?" cried the priest. "And what was
+it you were thryin' to say wid yer 'sempiternum durum,' and yer
+'tonitruendum malum?' Sure an' ye made me fairly profeen wid yer talk,
+so ye did."
+
+"Well, I dare say," said Tozer, candidly--"I dare say 'tain't onlikely
+that I _did_ introduce one or two Americanisms in the Latin; but then,
+you know, I ain't been in practice."
+
+The priest now brought chairs for his visitors, and, sitting thus in
+the church, they told him about their adventures, and entreated him to
+do something for them. To all this the priest listened with thoughtful
+attention, and when they were done he at once promised to find horses
+for them which would draw the carriages to this hamlet or to the next
+town. Ethel did not think Lady Dalrymple could go further than this
+place, and the priest offered to find some accommodations.
+
+He then left them, and in about half an hour he returned with two or
+three peasants, each of whom had a horse.
+
+"They'll be able to bring the leedies," said the priest, "and haul the
+impty wagons afther thim."
+
+"I think, miss," said Tozer, "that you'd better stay here. It's too
+far for you to walk."
+
+"Sure an' there's no use in the wide wurruld for _you_ to be goin'
+back," said the priest to Ethel. "You can't do any gud, an' you'd
+betther rist till they come. Yer frind'll be enough."
+
+Ethel at first thought of walking back, but finally she saw that it
+would be quite useless, and so she resolved to remain and wait for her
+aunt. So Tozer went off with the men and the horses, and the priest
+asked Ethel all about the affair once more. Whatever his opinions
+were, he said nothing.
+
+While he was talking there came a man to the door who beckoned him
+out. He went out, and was gone for some time. He came back at last,
+looking very serious.
+
+"I've just got a missage from thim," said he.
+
+"A message," exclaimed Ethel, "from them? What, from Girasole?"
+
+"Yis. They want a praste, and they've sint for me."
+
+"A priest?"
+
+"Yis; an' they want a maid-servant to wait on the young leedies; and
+they want thim immajitly; an' I'll have to start off soon. There's a
+man dead among thim that wants to be put undherground to-night, for
+the rist av thim are goin' off in the mornin'; an' accordin' to all I
+hear, I wouldn't wondher but what I'd be wanted for somethin' else
+afore mornin'."
+
+"Oh, my God!" cried Ethel; "they're going to kill him, then!"
+
+"Kill him! Kill who? Sure an' it's not killin' they want me for. It's
+the other--it's marryin'."
+
+"Marrying?" cried Ethel. "Poor, darling Minnie! Oh, you can not--you
+will not marry them?"
+
+"Sure an' I don't know but it's the best thing I can do--as things
+are," said the priest.
+
+"Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!" moaned Ethel.
+
+"Well, ye've got to bear up, so ye have. There's throubles for all of
+us, an' lots av thim too; an' more'n some av us can bear."
+
+Ethel sat in the darkest and bitterest grief for some time, a prey to
+thoughts and fears that were perfect agony to her.
+
+At last a thought came to her which made her start, and look up, and
+cast at the priest a look full of wonder and entreaty. The priest
+watched her with the deepest sympathy visible on his face.
+
+"We must save them!" she cried.
+
+"Sure an' it's me that made up me moind to that same," said the
+priest, "only I didn't want to rise yer hopes."
+
+"_We_ must save them," said Ethel, with strong emphasis.
+
+"_We?_ What can you do?"
+
+Ethel got up, walked to the church door, looked out, came back, looked
+anxiously all around, and then, resuming her seat, she drew close to
+the priest, and began to whisper, long and anxiously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK.
+
+
+When Dacres had sprung aside into the woods in the moment of his
+fierce rush upon Girasole, he had been animated by a sudden thought
+that escape for himself was possible, and that it would be more
+serviceable to his friends. Thus, then, he had bounded into the woods,
+and with swift steps he forced his way among the trees deeper and
+deeper into the forest. Some of the brigands had given chase, but
+without effect. Dacres's superior strength and agility gave him the
+advantage, and his love of life was a greater stimulus than their
+thirst for vengeance. In addition to this the trees gave every
+assistance toward the escape of a fugitive, while they threw every
+impediment in the way of a pursuer. The consequence was, therefore,
+that Dacres soon put a great distance between himself and his
+pursuers, and, what is more, he ran in such a circuitous route that
+they soon lost all idea of their own locality, and had not the
+faintest idea where he had gone. In this respect, however, Dacres
+himself was not one whit wiser than they, for he soon found himself
+completely bewildered in the mazes of the forest; and when at length
+the deep silence around gave no further sound of pursuers, he sank
+down to take breath, with no idea whatever in what direction the road
+lay.
+
+After a brief rest he arose and plunged deeper still into the forest,
+so as to put an additional distance between himself and any possible
+pursuit. He at length found himself at the foot of a precipice about
+fifty feet in height, which was deep in the recesses of the forest. Up
+this he climbed, and found a mossy place among the trees at its top,
+where he could find rest, and at the same time be in a more favorable
+position either for hearing or seeing any signs of approaching
+pursuers.
+
+Here, then, he flung himself down to rest, and soon buried himself
+among thoughts of the most exciting kind. The scene which he had just
+left was fresh in his mind, and amidst all the fury of that strife
+there rose most prominent in his memory the form of the two ladies,
+Minnie standing calm and unmoved, while Mrs. Willoughby was convulsed
+with agitated feeling. What was the cause of that? Could it be
+possible that his wife had indeed contrived such a plot with the
+Italian? Was it possible that she had chosen this way of striking two
+blows, by one of which she could win her Italian, and by the other of
+which she could get rid of himself, her husband? Such had been his
+conjecture during the fury of the fight, and the thought had roused
+him up to his Berserker madness; but now, as it recurred again, he saw
+other things to shake his full belief. Her agitation seemed too
+natural.
+
+Yet, on the other hand, he asked himself, why should she not show
+agitation? She was a consummate actress. She could show on her
+beautiful face the softness and the tenderness of an angel of light
+while a demon reigned in her malignant heart. Why should she not
+choose this way of keeping up appearances? She had betrayed her
+friends, and sought her husband's death; but would she wish to have
+her crime made manifest? Not she. It was for this, then, that she wept
+and clung to the child-angel.
+
+Such thoughts as these were not at all adapted to give comfort to his
+mind, or make his rest refreshing. Soon, by such fancies, he kindled
+anew his old rage, and his blood rose to fever heat, so that inaction
+became no longer tolerable. He had rest enough. He started up, and
+looked all around, and listened attentively. No sound arose and no
+sight appeared which at all excited suspicion. He determined to set
+forth once more, he scarcely knew where. He had a vague idea of
+finding his way back to the road, so as to be able to assist the
+ladies, together with another idea, equally ill defined, of coming
+upon the brigands, finding the Italian, and watching for an
+opportunity to wreak vengeance upon this assassin and his guilty
+partner.
+
+He drew his knife once more from a leathern sheath on the inside of
+the breast of his coat, into which he had thrust it some time before,
+and holding this he set forth, watchfully and warily. On the left side
+of the precipice the ground sloped down, and at the bottom of this
+there was a narrow valley. It seemed to him that this might be the
+course of some spring torrent, and that by following its descent he
+might come out upon some stream. With this intention he descended to
+the valley, and then walked along, following the descent of the
+ground, and keeping himself as much as possible among the thickest
+growths of the trees.
+
+The ground descended very gradually, and the narrow valley wound along
+among rolling hills that were covered with trees and brush. As he
+confined himself to the thicker parts of this, his progress was
+necessarily slow; but at the end of that turn he saw before him
+unmistakable signs of the neighborhood of some open place. Before him
+he saw the sky in such a way that it showed the absence of forest
+trees. He now moved on more cautiously, and, quitting the valley, he
+crept up the hill-slope among the brush as carefully as possible,
+until he was at a sufficient height, and then, turning toward the
+open, he crept forward from cover to cover. At length he stopped. A
+slight eminence was before him, beyond which all was open, yet
+concealed from his view. Descending the slope a little, he once more
+advanced, and finally emerged at the edge of the forest.
+
+He found himself upon a gentle declivity. Immediately in front of him
+lay a lake, circular in shape, and about a mile in diameter, embosomed
+among wooded hills. At first he saw no signs of any habitation; but as
+his eyes wandered round he saw upon his right, about a quarter of a
+mile away, an old stone house, and beyond this smoke curling up from
+among the forest trees on the borders of the lake.
+
+The scene startled him. It was so quiet, so lonely, and so deserted
+that it seemed a fit place for a robber's haunt. Could this be indeed
+the home of his enemies, and had he thus so wonderfully come upon them
+in the very midst of their retreat? He believed that it was so. A
+little further observation showed figures among the trees moving to
+and fro, and soon he distinguished faint traces of smoke in other
+places, which he had not seen at first, as though there were more
+fires than one.
+
+Dacres exulted with a fierce and vengeful joy over this discovery. He
+felt now not like the fugitive, but rather the pursuer. He looked down
+upon this as the tiger looks from his jungle upon some Indian village.
+His foes were numerous, but he was concealed, and his presence
+unsuspected. He grasped his dagger with a firmer clutch, and then
+pondered for a few minutes on what he had better do next.
+
+One thing was necessary first of all, and that was to get as near as
+he possibly could without discovery. A slight survey of the situation
+showed him that he might venture much nearer; and his eye ran along
+the border of the lake which lay between him and the old house, and he
+saw that it was all covered over with a thick fringe of trees and
+brush-wood. The narrow valley along which he had come ended at the
+shore of the lake just below him on his right, and beyond this the
+shore arose again to a height equal to where he now was. To gain that
+opposite height was now his first task.
+
+Before starting he looked all around, so as to be sure that he was not
+observed. Then he went back for some distance, after which he
+descended into the valley, crouching low, and crawling stealthily
+among the brush-wood. Moving thus, he at length succeeded in reaching
+the opposite slope without appearing to have attracted any attention
+from any pursuers. Up this slope he now moved as carefully as ever,
+not relaxing his vigilance one jot, but, if possible, calling into
+play even a larger caution as he found himself drawing nearer to those
+whom he began to regard as his prey.
+
+Moving up this slope, then, in this way, he at length attained the
+top, and found himself here among the forest trees and underbrush.
+They were here even denser than they were on the place which he had
+just left. As he moved along he saw no indications that they had been
+traversed by human footsteps. Every thing gave indication of an
+unbroken and undisturbed solitude. After feeling his way along here
+with all the caution which he could exercise, he finally ventured
+toward the shore of the lake, and found himself able to go to the very
+edge without coming to any open space or crossing any path.
+
+On looking forth from the top of the bank he found that he had not
+only drawn much nearer to the old house, but that he could see the
+whole line of shore. He now saw that there were some men by the door
+of the house, and began to suspect that this was nothing else than the
+headquarters and citadel of the brigands. The sight of the shore now
+showed him that he could approach very much nearer, and unless the
+brigands, or whoever they were, kept scouts out, he would be able to
+reach a point immediately overlooking the house, from which he could
+survey it at his leisure. To reach this point became now his next aim.
+
+The wood being dense, Dacres found no more difficulty in passing
+through this than in traversing what lay behind him. The caution which
+he exercised here was as great as ever, and his progress was as slow,
+but as sure. At length he found himself upon the desired point, and,
+crawling cautiously forward to the shore, he looked down upon the very
+old house which he had desired to reach.
+
+The house stood close by the lake, upon a sloping bank which lay
+below. It did not seem to be more than fifty yards away. The doors and
+windows were gone. Five or six ill-looking fellows were near the
+doorway, some sprawling on the ground, others lolling and lounging
+about. One glance at the men was sufficient to assure him that they
+were the brigands, and also to show him that they kept no guard or
+scout or outpost of any kind, at least in this direction.
+
+Here, then, Dacres lay and watched. He could not wish for a better
+situation. With his knife in his hand, ready to defend himself in case
+of need, and his whole form concealed perfectly by the thick
+underbrush into the midst of which he had crawled, he peered forth
+through the overhanging leaves, and watched in breathless interest.
+From the point where he now was he could see the shore beyond the
+house, where the smoke was rising. He could now see that there were no
+less than four different columns of smoke ascending from as many
+fires. He saw as many as twenty or thirty figures moving among the
+trees, made conspicuous by the bright colors of their costumes. They
+seemed to be busy about something which he could not make out.
+
+Suddenly, while his eye roved over the scene, it was struck by some
+fluttering color at the open window of the old house. He had not
+noticed this before. He now looked at it attentively. Before long he
+saw a figure cross the window and return. It was a female figure.
+
+The sight of this revived all that agitation which he had felt before,
+but which had been calmed during the severe efforts which he had been
+putting forth. There was but one thought in his mind, and but one
+desire in his heart.
+
+His wife.
+
+He crouched low, with a more feverish dread of discovery at this
+supreme moment, and a fiercer thirst for some further revelation which
+might disclose what he suspected. His breathing came thick and hard,
+and his brow lowered gloomily over his gleaming eyes.
+
+He waited thus for some minutes, and the figure passed again.
+
+He still watched.
+
+Suddenly a figure appeared at the window. It was a young girl, a
+blonde, with short golden curls. The face was familiar indeed to him.
+Could he ever forget it? There it was full before him, turned toward
+him, as though that one, by some strange spiritual sympathy, was aware
+of his presence, and was thus turning toward him this mute appeal. Her
+face was near enough for its expression to be visible. He could
+distinguish the childish face, with its soft, sweet innocence, and he
+knew that upon it there was now that piteous, pleading, beseeching
+look which formerly had so thrilled his heart. And it was thus that
+Dacres saw his child-angel.
+
+A prisoner, turning toward him this appeal! What was the cause, and
+what did the Italian want of this innocent child? Such was his
+thought. What could his fiend of a wife gain by the betrayal of that
+angelic being? Was it possible that even her demon soul could compass
+iniquity like this? He had thought that he had fathomed her capacity
+for malignant wickedness; but the presence here of the child-angel in
+the power of these miscreants showed him that this capacity was indeed
+unfathomable. At this sudden revelation of sin so enormous his very
+soul turned sick with horror.
+
+He watched, and still looked with an anxiety that was increasing to
+positive pain.
+
+And now, after one brief glance, Minnie drew back into the room. There
+was nothing more to be seen for some time, but at last another figure
+appeared.
+
+He expected this; he was waiting for it; he was sure of it; yet deep
+down in the bottom of his heart there was a hope that it might not be
+so, that his suspicions, in this case at least, might be unfounded.
+But now the proof came; it was made manifest here before his eyes, and
+in the light of day.
+
+In spite of himself a low groan escaped him. He buried his face in his
+hands and shut out the sight. Then suddenly he raised his head again
+and stared, as though in this face there was an irresistible
+fascination by which a spell was thrown over him.
+
+It was the face of Mrs. Willoughby--youthful, beautiful, and touching
+in its tender grace. Tears were now in those dark, luminous eyes, but
+they were unseen by him. Yet he could mark the despondency of her
+attitude; he could see a certain wild way of looking up and down and
+in all directions; he noted how her hands grasped the window-ledge as
+if for support.
+
+And oh, beautiful demon angel, he thought, if you could but know how
+near you are to the avenger! Why are you so anxious, my demon wife?
+Are you impatient because your Italian is delaying? Can you not live
+for five seconds longer without him? Are you looking in all directions
+to see where he is? Don't fret; he'll soon be here.
+
+And now there came a confirmation of his thoughts. He was not
+surprised; he knew it; he suspected it. It was all as it should be.
+Was it not in the confident expectation of this that he had come here
+with his dagger--on their trail?
+
+It was Girasole.
+
+He came from the place, further along the shore, where the brigands
+were around their fires. He was walking quickly. He had a purpose. It
+was with a renewed agony that Dacres watched his enemy--coming to
+visit his wife. The intensity of that thirst for vengeance, which had
+now to be checked until a better opportunity, made his whole frame
+tremble. A wild desire came to him then and there to bound down upon
+his enemy, and kill and be killed in the presence of his wife. But the
+other brigands deterred him. These men might interpose and save the
+Italian, and make him a prisoner. No; he must wait till he could meet
+his enemy on something like equal terms--when he could strike a blow
+that would not be in vain. Thus he overmastered himself.
+
+He saw Girasole enter the house. He watched breathlessly. The time
+seemed long indeed. He could not hear any thing; the conversation, if
+there was any, was carried on in a low tone. He could not see any
+thing; those who conversed kept quiet; no one passed in front of the
+window. It was all a mystery, and this made the time seem longer. At
+length Dacres began to think that Girasole would not go at all. A long
+time passed. Hours went away, and still Girasole did not quit the
+house.
+
+It was now sundown. Dacres had eaten nothing since morning, but the
+conflict of passion drove away all hunger or thirst. The approach of
+darkness was in accordance with his own gloomy wishes. Twilight in
+Italy is short. Night would soon be over all.
+
+The house was on the slope of the bank. At the corner nearest him the
+house was sunk into the ground in such a way that it looked as though
+one might climb into the upper story window. As Dacres looked he made
+up his mind to attempt it. By standing here on tiptoe he could catch
+the upper window-ledge with his hands. He was strong. He was tall. His
+enemy was in the house. The hour was at hand. He was the man.
+
+Another hour passed.
+
+All was still.
+
+There was a flickering lamp in the hall, but the men seemed to be
+asleep.
+
+Another hour passed.
+
+There was no noise.
+
+Then Dacres ventured down. He moved slowly and cautiously, crouching
+low, and thus traversing the intervening space.
+
+He neared the house and touched it. Before him was the window of the
+lower story. Above him was the window of the upper story. He lifted up
+his hands. They could reach the window-ledge.
+
+He put his long, keen knife between his teeth, and caught at the upper
+window-ledge. Exerting all his strength, he raised himself up so high
+that he could fling one elbow over. For a moment he hung thus, and
+waited to take breath and listen.
+
+There was a rush below. Half a dozen shadowy forms surrounded him. He
+had been seen. He had been trapped.
+
+He dropped down and, seizing his knife, struck right and left.
+
+In vain. He was hurled to the ground and bound tight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+FACE TO FACE.
+
+
+Hawbury, on his capture, had been at once taken into the woods, and
+led and pushed on by no gentle hands. He had thus gone on until he had
+found himself by that same lake which others of the party had come
+upon in the various ways which have been described. Toward this lake
+he was taken, until finally his party reached the old house, which
+they entered. It has already been said that it was a two-story house.
+It was also of stone, and strongly built. The door was in the middle
+of it, and rooms were on each side of the hall. The interior plan of
+the house was peculiar, for the hall did not run through, but
+consisted of a square room, and the stone steps wound spirally from
+the lower hall to the upper one. There were three rooms up stairs, one
+taking up one end of the house, which was occupied by Mrs. Willoughby
+and Minnie; another in the rear of the house, into which a door opened
+from the upper hall, close by the head of the stairs; and a third,
+which was opposite the room first mentioned.
+
+Hawbury was taken to this house, and led up stairs into this room in
+the rear of the house. At the end farthest from the door he saw a heap
+of straw with a few dirty rugs upon it. In the wall a beam was set, to
+which an iron ring was fastened. He was taken toward this bed, and
+here his legs were bound together, and the rope that secured them was
+run around the iron ring so as to allow of no more motion than a few
+feet. Having thus secured the prisoner, the men left him to his own
+meditations.
+
+The room was perfectly bare of furniture, nothing being in it but the
+straw and the dirty rugs. Hawbury could not approach to the windows,
+for he was bound in a way which prevented that. In fact, he could not
+move in any direction, for his arms and legs were fastened in such a
+way that he could scarcely raise himself from where he was sitting. He
+therefore was compelled to remain in one position, and threw himself
+down upon the straw on his side, with his face to the wall, for he
+found that position easier than any other. In this way he lay for some
+time, until at length he was roused by the sound of footsteps
+ascending the stairs. Several people were passing his room. He heard
+the voice of Girasole. He listened with deep attention. For some time
+there was no reply. At length there was the sound of a woman's
+voice--clear, plain, and unmistakable. It was a fretful voice of
+complaint. Girasole was trying to answer it. After a time Girasole
+left. Then all was still. Then Girasole returned. Then there was a
+clattering noise on the stairs, and the bumping of some heavy weight,
+and the heavy breathing of men. Then he heard Girasole say something,
+after which arose Minnie's voice, close by, as though she was in the
+hall, and her words were, "Oh, take it away, take it away!" followed
+by long reproaches, which Hawbury did not fully understand.
+
+This showed him that Minnie, at least, was a prisoner, and in this
+house, and in the adjoining room, along with some one whom he rightly
+supposed was Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+After this there was a further silence for some time, which at last
+was broken by fresh sounds of trampling and shuffling, together with
+the confused directions of several voices all speaking at once.
+Hawbury listened, and turned on his couch of straw so as to see any
+thing which presented itself. The clatter and the noise approached
+nearer, ascending the stairs, until at last he saw that they were
+entering his room. Two of the brigands came first, carrying something
+carefully. In a few moments the burden which they bore was revealed.
+
+It was a rude litter, hastily made from bushes fastened together. Upon
+this lay the dead body of a man, his white face upturned, and his
+limbs stiffened in the rigidity of death. Hawbury did not remember
+very distinctly any of the particular events of his confused struggle
+with the brigands; but he was not at all surprised to see that there
+had been one of the ruffians sent to his account. The brigands who
+carried in their dead companion looked at the captive with a sullen
+ferocity and a scowling vengefulness, which showed plainly that they
+would demand of him a reckoning for their comrade's blood if it were
+only in their power. But they did not delay, nor did they make any
+actual demonstrations to Hawbury. They placed the corpse of their
+comrade upon the floor in the middle of the room, and then went out.
+
+The presence of the corpse only added to the gloom of Hawbury's
+situation, and he once more turned his face to the wall, so as to shut
+out the sight. Once more he gave himself up to his own thoughts, and
+so the time passed slowly on. He heard no sounds now from the room
+where Miss Fay was confined. He heard no noise from the men below, and
+could not tell whether they were still guarding the door, or had gone
+away. Various projects came to him, foremost among which was the idea
+of escaping. Bribery seemed the only possible way. There was about
+this, however, the same difficulty which Mrs. Willoughby had
+found--his ignorance of the language. He thought that this would be an
+effectual bar to any communication, and saw no other alternative than
+to wait Girasole's pleasure. It seemed to him that a ransom would be
+asked, and he felt sure, from Girasole's offensive manner, that the
+ransom would be large. But there was no help for it. He felt more
+troubled about Miss Fay; for Girasole's remarks about her seemed to
+point to views of his own which were incompatible with her liberation.
+
+In the midst of these reflections another noise arose below. It was a
+steady tramp of two or three men walking. The noise ascended the
+stairway, and drew nearer and nearer. Hawbury turned once more, and
+saw two men entering the room, carrying between them a box about six
+feet long and eighteen inches or two feet wide. It was coarsely but
+strongly made, and was undoubtedly intended as a coffin for the corpse
+of the brigand. The men put the coffin down against the wall and
+retired. After a few minutes they returned again with the coffin lid.
+They then lifted the dead body into the coffin, and one of them put
+the lid in its place and secured it with half a dozen screws. After
+this Hawbury was once more left alone. He found this far more
+tolerable, for now he had no longer before his very eyes the abhorrent
+sight of the dead body. Hidden in its coffin, it no longer gave
+offense to his sensibilities. Once more, therefore, Hawbury turned his
+thoughts toward projects of escape, and discussed in his mind the
+probabilities for and against.
+
+The day had been long, and longer still did it seem to the captive as
+hour after hour passed slowly by. He could not look at his watch,
+which his captors had spared; but from the shadows as they fell
+through the windows, and from the general appearance of the sky, he
+knew that the close of the day was not far off. He began to wonder
+that he was left so long alone and in suspense, and to feel impatient
+to know the worst as to his fate. Why did not some of them come to
+tell him? Where was Girasole? Was he the chief? Were the brigands
+debating about his fate, or were they thus leaving him in suspense so
+as to make him despondent and submissive to their terms? From all that
+he had ever heard of brigands and their ways, the latter seemed not
+unlikely; and this thought made him see the necessity of guarding
+himself against being too impatient for freedom, and too compliant
+with any demands of theirs.
+
+From these thoughts he was at last roused by footsteps which ascended
+the stairs. He turned and looked toward the door. A man entered.
+
+It was Girasole.
+
+He entered slowly, with folded arms, and coming about half-way, he
+stood and surveyed the prisoner in silence. Hawbury, with a sudden
+effort, brought himself up to a sitting posture, and calmly surveyed
+the Italian.
+
+"Well," asked Hawbury, "I should like to know how long you intend to
+keep up this sort of thing? What are you going to do about it? Name
+your price, man, and we'll discuss it, and settle upon something
+reasonable."
+
+"My price?" repeated Girasole, with peculiar emphasis.
+
+"Yes. Of course I understand you fellows. It's your trade, you know.
+You've caught me, and, of course, you'll try to make the best of me,
+and all that sort of thing. So don't keep me waiting."
+
+"Inglis milor," said Girasole, with a sharp, quick accent, his face
+flushing up as he spoke--"Inglis milor, dere is no price as you mean,
+an' no ransom. De price is one dat you will not wis to pay."
+
+"Oh, come, now, my good fellow, really you must remember that I'm tied
+up, and not in a position to be chaffed. Bother your Italian humbug!
+Don't speak in these confounded figures of speech, you know, but say
+up and down--how much?"
+
+"De brigands haf talk you ovair, an' dey will haf no price."
+
+"What the devil is all that rot about?"
+
+"Dey will haf youair blood."
+
+"My blood?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And pray, my good fellow, what good is that going to do them?"
+
+"It is vengeance," said Girasole.
+
+"Vengeance? Pooh! Nonsense! What rot! What have I ever done?"
+
+"Dat--dere--his blood," said Girasole, pointing to the coffin.
+
+"What! that scoundrel? Why, man alive, are you crazy? That was a fair
+stand-up fight. That is, it was two English against twenty Italians,
+if you call that fair; but perhaps it is. His blood! By Jove! Cool,
+that! Come, I like it."
+
+"An' more," said Girasole, who now grew more excited. "It is not de
+brigand who condemn you; it is also me. I condemn you."
+
+"You?" said Hawbury, elevating his eyebrows in some surprise, and
+fixing a cool stare upon Girasole. "And what the devil's _this_ row
+about, I should like to know? I don't know _you_. What have you
+against _me_?"
+
+"Inglis milor," cried Girasole, who was stung to the quick by a
+certain indescribable yet most irritating superciliousness in
+Hawbury's tone--"Inglis milor, you sall see what you sall soffair. You
+sall die! Dere is no hope. You are condemn by de brigand. You also are
+condemn by me, for you insult me."
+
+"Well, of all the beastly rot I ever heard, this is about the worst!
+What do you mean by all this infernal nonsense? Insult you! What would
+I insult you for? Why, man alive, you're as mad as a March hare! If I
+thought you were a gentleman, I'd--by Jove, I will, too! See here, you
+fellow: I'll fight you for it--pistols, or any thing. Come, now. I'll
+drop all considerations of rank. I'll treat you as if you were a real
+count, and not a sham one. Come, now. What do you say? Shall we have
+it out? Pistols--in the woods there. You've got all your infernal crew
+around you, you know. Well? What? You won't? By Jove!"
+
+Girasole's gesture showed that he declined the proposition.
+
+"Inglis milor," said he, with a venomous glitter in his eyes, "I sall
+haf youair life--wis de pistol, but not in de duello. I sall blow your
+brain out myself."
+
+"Blow and be hanged, then!" said Hawbury.
+
+And with these words he fell back on his straw, and took no further
+notice of the Italian.
+
+[Illustration: "INGLIS MILOR, I SALL HAF YOUAIR LIFE."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+TORN ASUNDER.
+
+
+When Dacres made his attempt upon the house he was not so unobserved
+as he supposed himself to be. Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby happened at
+that time to be sitting on the floor by the window, one on each side,
+and they were looking out. They had chosen the seat as affording some
+prospect of the outer world. There was in Mrs. Willoughby a certain
+instinctive feeling that if any rescue came, it would come from the
+land side; and, therefore, though the hope was faint indeed, it
+nevertheless was sufficiently well defined to inspire her with an
+uneasy and incessant vigilance. Thus, then, she had seated herself by
+the window, and Minnie had taken her place on the opposite side, and
+the two sisters, with clasped hands, sat listening to the voices of
+the night.
+
+At length they became aware of a movement upon the bank just above
+them and lying opposite. The sisters clasped one another's hands more
+closely, and peered earnestly through the gloom. It was pretty dark,
+and the forest threw down a heavy shadow, but still their eyes were by
+this time accustomed to the dark, and they could distinguish most of
+the objects there. Among these they soon distinguished a moving
+figure; but what it was, whether man or beast, they could not make
+out.
+
+This moving figure was crawling down the bank. There was no cover to
+afford concealment, and it was evident that he was trusting altogether
+to the concealment of the darkness. It was a hazardous experiment, and
+Mrs. Willoughby trembled in suspense.
+
+Minnie, however, did not tremble at all, nor was the suspense at all
+painful. When Mrs. Willoughby first cautiously directed her attention
+to it in a whisper, Minnie thought it was some animal.
+
+"Why, Kitty dear," she said, speaking back in a whisper, "why, it's an
+animal; I wonder if the creature is a wild beast. I'm sure I think
+it's very dangerous, and no doors or windows. But it's _always_ the
+way. He wouldn't give me a chair; and so I dare say I shall be eaten
+up by a bear before morning."
+
+Minnie gave utterance to this expectation without the slightest
+excitement, just as though the prospect of becoming food for a bear
+was one of the very commonest incidents of her life.
+
+"Oh, I don't think it's a bear."
+
+"Well, then, it's a tiger or a lion, or perhaps a wolf. I'm sure _I_
+don't see what difference it makes what one is eaten by, when one
+_has_ to be eaten."
+
+"It's a man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, tremulously.
+
+"A man!--nonsense, Kitty darling. A man walks; he doesn't go on
+all-fours, except when he is very, very small."
+
+"Hush! it's some one coming to help us. Watch him, Minnie dear. Oh,
+how dangerous!"
+
+"Do you really think so?" said Minnie, with evident pleasure. "Now
+that is really kind. But I wonder who it _can_ be?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby squeezed her hand, and made no reply. She was watching
+the slow and cautious movement of the shadowy figure.
+
+"He's coming nearer!" said she, tremulously.
+
+Minnie felt her sister's hand throb at the quick movement of her
+heart, and heard her short, quick breathing.
+
+"Who _can_ it be, I wonder?" said Minnie, full of curiosity, but
+without any excitement at all.
+
+"Oh, Minnie!"
+
+"What's the matter, darling?"
+
+"It's so terrible."
+
+"What?"
+
+"This suspense. Oh, I'm so afraid!"
+
+"Afraid! Why, I'm not afraid at all."
+
+"Oh! he'll be caught."
+
+"No, he won't," said Minnie, confidently. "I _knew_ he'd come. They
+_always_ do. Don't be afraid that he'll be caught, or that he'll fail.
+They _never_ fail. They always _will_ save me. Wait till your life has
+been saved as often as mine has, Kitty darling. Oh, I expected it all!
+I was thinking a little while ago he ought to be here soon."
+
+"He! Who?"
+
+"Why, any person; the person who is going to save me this time. I
+don't know, of course, who he is; some horrid man, of course. And
+then--oh dear!--I'll have it all over again. He'll carry me away on
+his back, and through those wretched woods, and bump me against the
+trees and things. Then he'll get me to the road, and put me on a
+horrid old horse, and gallop away. And by that time it will be
+morning. And then he'll propose. And so there'll be another. And I
+don't know what I _shall_ do about it. Oh dear!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby had not heard half of this. All her soul was intent
+upon the figure outside. She only pressed her sister's hand, and gave
+a warning "Hus-s-s-h!"
+
+"I know one thing I _do_ wish," said Minnie.
+
+Her sister made no reply.
+
+"I do wish it would turn out to be that nice, dear, good, kind Rufus
+K. Gunn. I don't want any more of them. And I'm sure he's nicer than
+this horrid Count, who wouldn't take the trouble to get me even a
+chair. And yet he pretends to be fond of me."
+
+"Hus-s-s-h!" said her sister.
+
+But Minnie was irrepressible.
+
+"I don't want any horrid stranger. But, oh, Kitty darling, it would be
+so awfully funny if he were to be caught! and then he _couldn't_
+propose, you know."
+
+By this time the figure had reached the house. Minnie peeped over and
+looked down. Then she drew back her head and sighed.
+
+"Oh dear!" she said, in a plaintive tone.
+
+"What, darling?"
+
+"Why, Kitty darling, do you know he really looks a little like that
+great, big, horrid man that ran with me down the volcano, and then
+pretended he was my dear papa. And here he comes to save me again. Oh,
+what _shall_ I do? Won't you pretend you're me, Kitty darling, and
+please go yourself? Oh, ple-e-ease do!"
+
+But now Minnie was interrupted by two strong hands grasping the
+window-sill. A moment after a shadowy head arose above it. Mrs.
+Willoughby started back, but through the gloom she was able to
+recognize the strongly marked face of Scone Dacres.
+
+For a moment he stared through the darkness. Then he flung his elbow
+over.
+
+There arose a noise below. There was a rush. The figure disappeared
+from the window. A furious struggle followed, in the midst of which
+arose fierce oaths and deep breathings, and the sound of blows. Then
+the struggle subsided, and they heard footsteps tramping heavily. They
+followed the sound into the house. They heard men coming up the stairs
+and into the hall outside. Then they all moved into, the front-room
+opposite theirs. After a few minutes they heard the steps descending
+the stairs. By this they judged that the prisoner had been taken to
+that room which was on the other side of the hall and in the front of
+the house.
+
+"There dies our last hope!" said Mrs. Willoughby, and burst into
+tears.
+
+"I'm sure I don't see what you're crying about," said Minnie. "You
+certainly oughtn't to want me to be carried off again by that person.
+If he had me, he'd _never_ give me up--especially after saving me
+twice."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby made no reply, and the sisters sat in silence for
+nearly an hour. They were then aroused by the approach of footsteps
+which entered the house; after which voices were heard below.
+
+Then some one ascended the stairs, and they saw the flicker of a
+light. It was Girasole.
+
+He came into the room with a small lamp, holding his hand in front of
+the flame. This lamp he set down in a corner out of the draught, and
+then turned to the ladies.
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole, in a gentle voice, "I am ver pained to haf to
+tella you dat it is necessaire for you to separat dis night--till
+to-morra."
+
+"To separate?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"Only till to-morra, miladi. Den you sall be togeder foravva. But it
+is now necessaire. Dere haf ben an attemp to a rescue. I mus guard
+again dis--an' it mus be done by a separazion. If you are togeder you
+might run. Dis man was almos up here. It was only chance dat I saw him
+in time."
+
+"Oh, Sir," cried Mrs. Willoughby, "you can not--you will not separate
+us. You can not have the heart to. I promise most solemnly that we
+will not escape if you only leave us together."
+
+Girasole shook his head.
+
+"I can not," said he, firmly; "de mees is too precious. I dare not. If
+you are prisonaire se will not try to fly, an' so I secure her de
+more; but if you are togeder you will find some help. You will bribe
+de men. I can not trust dem."
+
+"Oh, do not separate us. Tie us. Bind us. Fasten us with chains.
+Fasten me with chains, but leave me with her."
+
+"Chains? nonsance; dat is impossibile. Chains? no, miladi. You sall be
+treat beautiful. No chain, no; notin but affection--till to-morra, an'
+den de mees sall be my wife. De priest haf come, an' it sall be
+allaright to-morra, an' you sall be wit her again. An' now you haf to
+come away; for if you do not be pleasant, I sall not be able to 'low
+you to stay to-morra wit de mees when se become my Contessa."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby flung her arms about her sister, and clasped her in a
+convulsive embrace.
+
+"Well, Kitty darling," said Minnie, "don't cry, or you'll make me cry
+too. It's just what we might have expected, you know. He's been as
+unkind as he could be about the chair, and of course he'll do all he
+can to tease me. Don't cry, dear. You must go, I suppose, since that
+horrid man talks and scolds so about it; only be sure to be back
+early; but how I am _ever_ to pass the night here all alone and
+standing up, I'm sure _I_ don't know."
+
+"Alone? Oh no," said Girasole. "Charming mees, you sall not be alone;
+I haf guard for dat. I haf sent for a maid."
+
+"But I don't want any of your horrid old maids. I want my own maid, or
+none at all."
+
+"Se sall be your own maid. I haf sent for her."
+
+"What, my own maid?--Dowlas?"
+
+"I am ver sorry, but it is not dat one. It is anoder--an Italian."
+
+"Well, I think that is _very_ unkind, when you _know_ I can't speak a
+word of the language. But you _always_ do all you can to tease me. I
+_wish_ I had never seen you."
+
+Girasole looked hurt.
+
+"Charming mees," said he, "I will lay down my life for you."
+
+"But I don't want you to lay down your life. I want Dowlas."
+
+"And you sall haf Dowlas to-morra. An' to-night you sall haf de
+Italian maid."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must," said Minnie, resignedly.
+
+"Miladi," said Girasole, turning to Mrs. Willoughby, "I am ver sorry
+for dis leetle accommodazion. De room where you mus go is de one where
+I haf put de man dat try to safe you. He is tied fast. You mus promis
+you will not loose him. Haf you a knife?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Willoughby, in a scarce audible tone.
+
+"Do not mourn. You sall be able to talk to de prisonaire and get
+consolazion. But come."
+
+With these words Girasole led the way out into the hall, and into the
+front-room on the opposite side. He carried the lamp in his hand. Mrs.
+Willoughby saw a figure lying at the other end of the room on the
+floor. His face was turned toward them, but in the darkness she could
+not see it plainly. Some straw was heaped up in the corner next her.
+
+"Dere," said Girasole, "is your bed. I am sorra. Do not be trouble."
+
+With this he went away.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby flung herself on her knees, and bowed her head and
+wept convulsively. She heard the heavy step of Girasole as he went
+down stairs. Her first impulse was to rush back to her sister. But she
+dreaded discovery, and felt that disobedience would only make her fate
+harder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+FOUND AT LAST.
+
+
+In a few moments Girasole came back and entered Minnie's room. He was
+followed by a woman who was dressed in the garb of an Italian peasant
+girl. Over her head she wore a hood to protect her from the night air,
+the limp folds of which hung over her face. Minnie looked carelessly
+at this woman and then at Girasole.
+
+"Charming mees," said Girasole, "I haf brought you a maid for dis
+night. When we leaf dis you sall haf what maid you wis."
+
+"That horrid old fright!" said Minnie. "I don't want her."
+
+"You sall only haf her for dis night," said Girasole. "You will be
+taken care for."
+
+"I suppose nobody cares for what _I_ want," said Minnie, "and I may as
+well speak to the wall, for all the good it does."
+
+[Illustration: "ONE ARM WENT AROUND HER NECK."]
+
+Girasole smiled and bowed, and put his hand on his heart, and then
+called down the stairs:
+
+"Padre Patricio!"
+
+A solid, firm step now sounded on the stairs, and in a few moments the
+priest came up. Girasole led the way into Hawbury's room. The prisoner
+lay on his side. He was in a deep sleep. Girasole looked in wonder at
+the sleeper who was spending in this way the last hours of his life,
+and then pointed to the coffin.
+
+"Here," said he, in Italian, "is the body. When the grave is dug they
+will tell you. You must stay here. You will not be afraid to be with
+the dead."
+
+The priest smiled.
+
+Girasole now retreated and went down stairs.
+
+Soon all was still.
+
+The Italian woman had been standing where she had stopped ever since
+she first came into the room. Minnie had not paid any attention to
+her, but at last she noticed this.
+
+"I _wish_ you wouldn't stand there in that way. You really make me
+feel quite nervous. And what with the dark, and not having any light,
+and losing poor dear Kitty, and not having any chair to sit upon,
+really one's life is scarce worth having. But all this is thrown away,
+as you can't speak English--and how horrid it is to have no one to
+talk to."
+
+The woman made no reply, but with a quiet, stealthy step she drew near
+to Minnie.
+
+"What do you want? You horrid creature, keep away," said Minnie,
+drawing back in some alarm.
+
+"Minnie dear!" said the woman. "H-s-s-s-h!" she added, in a low
+whisper.
+
+Minnie started.
+
+"Who are you?" she whispered.
+
+One arm went around her neck, and another hand went over her mouth,
+and the woman drew nearer to her.
+
+"Not a word. H-s-s-s-h! I've risked my life. The priest brought me."
+
+"Why, my darling, darling love of an Ethel!" said Minnie, who was
+overwhelmed with surprise.
+
+"H-s-s-s-h!"
+
+"But how can I h-s-s-s-h when I'm so perfectly frantic with delight?
+Oh, you darling pet!"
+
+"H-s-s-s-h! Not another word. I'll be discovered and lost."
+
+"Well, dear, I'll speak very, very low. But how did you come here?"
+
+"The priest brought me."
+
+"The priest?"
+
+"Yes. He was sent for, you know; and I thought I could help you, and
+he is going to save you."
+
+"He! Who?"
+
+"The priest, you know."
+
+"The priest! Is he a Roman Catholic priest, Ethel darling?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"And _he_ is going to save me this time, is he?"
+
+"I hope so, dear."
+
+"Oh, how perfectly lovely that is! and it was so kind and thoughtful
+in you! Now this is really quite nice, for you know I've _longed_ so
+to be saved by a priest. These horrid men, you know, all go and
+propose the moment they save one's life; but a priest _can't_, you
+know--no, not if he saved one a thousand times over. Can he now, Ethel
+darling?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Ethel, in a little surprise. "But stop, darling. You
+really must _not_ say another word--no, not so much as a whisper--for
+we certainly _will_ be heard; and don't notice what I do, or the
+priest either, for it's very, very important, dear. But you keep as
+still as a little mouse, and wait till we are all ready."
+
+"Well, Ethel dear, I will; but it's awfully funny to see you here--and
+oh, _such_ a funny figure as you are!"
+
+"H-s-s-s-h!"
+
+Minnie relapsed into silence now, and Ethel withdrew near to the door,
+where she stood and listened. All was still. Down stairs there was no
+light and no sound. In the hall above she could see nothing, and could
+not tell whether any guards were there or not.
+
+Hawbury's room was at the back of the house, as has been said, and the
+door was just at the top of the stairs. The door where Ethel was
+standing was there too, and was close by the other, so that she could
+listen and hear the deep breathing of the sleeper. One or two
+indistinct sounds escaped him from time to time, and this was all that
+broke the deep stillness.
+
+She waited thus for nearly an hour, during which all was still, and
+Minnie said not a word. Then a shadowy figure appeared near her at
+Hawbury's door, and a hand touched her shoulder.
+
+Not a word was said.
+
+Ethel stole softly and noiselessly into Hawbury's room, where the
+priest was. She could see the two windows, and the priest indicated to
+her the position of the sleeper.
+
+Slowly and cautiously she stole over toward him.
+
+She reached the place.
+
+She knelt by his side, and bent low over him. Her lips touched his
+forehead.
+
+The sleeper moved slightly, and murmured some words.
+
+"All fire," he murmured; "fire--and flame. It is a furnace before us.
+She must not die."
+
+Then he sighed.
+
+Ethel's heart beat wildly. The words that he spoke told her where his
+thoughts were wandering. She bent lower; tears fell from her eyes and
+upon his face.
+
+"My darling," murmured the sleeper, "we will land here. I will cook
+the fish. How pale! Don't cry, dearest."
+
+The house was all still. Not a sound arose. Ethel still bent down and
+listened for more of these words which were so sweet to her.
+
+"Ethel!" murmured the sleeper, "where are you? Lost! lost!"
+
+A heavy sigh escaped him, which found an echo in the heart of the
+listener. She touched his forehead gently with one hand, and
+whispered,
+
+"My lord!"
+
+Hawbury started.
+
+"What's this?" he murmured.
+
+"A friend," said Ethel.
+
+At this Hawbury became wide awake.
+
+"Who are you?" he whispered, in a trembling voice. "For God's
+sake--oh, for God's sake, speak again! tell me!"
+
+"Harry," said Ethel.
+
+Hawbury recognized the voice at once.
+
+A slight cry escaped him, which was instantly suppressed, and then a
+torrent of whispered words followed.
+
+"Oh, my darling! my darling! my darling! What is this? How is this? Is
+it a dream? Oh, am I awake? Is it you? Oh, my darling! my darling! Oh,
+if my arms were but free!"
+
+Ethel bent over him, and passed her arm around him till she felt the
+cords that bound him. She had a sharp knife ready, and with this she
+cut the cords. Hawbury raised himself, without waiting for his feet to
+be freed, and caught Ethel in his freed arms in a silent embrace, and
+pressed her over and over again to his heart.
+
+Ethel with difficulty extricated herself.
+
+"There's no time to lose," said she. "I came to save you. Don't waste
+another moment; it will be too late. Oh, do not! Oh, wait!" she added,
+as Hawbury made another effort to clasp her in his arms. "Oh, do what
+I say, for my sake!"
+
+She felt for his feet, and cut the rest of his bonds.
+
+"What am I to do?" asked Hawbury, clasping her close, as though he was
+afraid that he would lose her again.
+
+"Escape."
+
+"Well, come! I'll leap with you from the window."
+
+"You can't. The house and all around swarms with brigands. They watch
+us all closely."
+
+"I'll fight my way through them."
+
+"Then you'll be killed, and I'll die."
+
+"Well, I'll do whatever you say."
+
+"Listen, then. You must escape alone."
+
+"What! and leave you? Never!"
+
+"I'm safe. I'm disguised, and a priest is with me as my protector."
+
+"How can you be safe in such a place as this?"
+
+"I am safe. Do not argue. There is no time to lose. The priest brought
+me here, and will take me away."
+
+"But there are others here. I can't leave them. Isn't Miss Fay a
+prisoner? and another lady?"
+
+"Yes; but the priest and I will be able, I hope, to liberate them. We
+have a plan."
+
+"But can't I go with you and help you?"
+
+"Oh no! it's impossible. You could not. We are going to take them away
+in disguise. We have a dress. You couldn't be disguised."
+
+"And _must_ I go alone?"
+
+"You must."
+
+"I'll do it, then. Tell me what it is. But oh, my darling! how can I
+leave you, and in such a place as this?"
+
+"I assure you I am not in the slightest danger."
+
+"I shall feel terribly anxious."
+
+"H-s-s-s-h! no more of this. Listen now."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Ethel bent lower, and whispered in his ear, in even lower tones than
+ever, the plan which she had contrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+A DESPERATE PLAN.
+
+
+Ethel's plan was hastily revealed. The position was exceedingly
+perilous; time was short, and this was the only way of escape.
+
+It was the priest who had concocted it, and he had thought of it as
+the only plan by which Hawbury's rescue could be effected. This
+ingenious Irishman had also formed another plan for the rescue of
+Minnie and her sister, which was to be attempted in due course of
+time.
+
+Now no ordinary mode of escape was possible for Hawbury. A strict
+watch was kept. The priest had noticed on his approach that guards
+were posted in different directions in such a way that no fugitive
+from the house could elude them. He had also seen that the guard
+inside the house was equally vigilant. To leap from the window and run
+for it would be certain death, for that was the very thing which the
+brigands anticipated. To make a sudden rush down the stairs was not
+possible, for at the door below there were guards; and there, most
+vigilant of all, was Girasole himself.
+
+The decision of the Irish priest was correct, as has been proved in
+the case of Dacres, who, in spite of all his caution, was observed and
+captured. Of this the priest knew nothing, but judged from what he
+himself had seen on his approach to the house.
+
+The plan of the priest had been hastily communicated to Ethel, who
+shared his convictions and adopted his conclusions. She also had
+noticed the vigilance with which the guard had been kept up, and only
+the fact that a woman had been sent for and was expected with the
+priest had preserved her from discovery and its consequences. As it
+was, however, no notice was taken of her, and her pretended character
+was assumed to be her real one. Even Girasole had scarcely glanced at
+her. A village peasant was of no interest in his eyes. His only
+thought was of Minnie, and the woman that the priest brought was only
+used as a desperate effort to show a desire for her comfort. After he
+had decided to separate the sisters the woman was of more importance;
+but he had nothing to say to her, and thus Ethel had effected her
+entrance to Minnie's presence in safety, with the result that has been
+described.
+
+The priest had been turning over many projects in his brain, but at
+last one suggested itself which had originated in connection with the
+very nature of his errand.
+
+One part of that errand was that a man should be conveyed out of the
+house and carried away and left in a certain place. Now the man who
+was thus to be carried out was a dead man, and the certain place to
+which he was to be borne and where he was to be left was the grave;
+but these stern facts did not at all deter the Irish priest from
+trying to make use of this task that lay before him for the benefit of
+Hawbury.
+
+Here was a problem. A prisoner anxious for escape, and a dead man
+awaiting burial; how were these two things to be exchanged so that the
+living man might pass out without going to the grave?
+
+The Irish priest puzzled and pondered and grew black in the face with
+his efforts to get to the solution of this problem, and at length
+succeeded--to his own satisfaction, at any rate. What is more, when he
+explained his plan to Ethel, she adopted it. She started, it is true;
+she shuddered, she recoiled from it at first, but finally she adopted
+it. Furthermore, she took it upon herself to persuade Hawbury to fall
+in with it.
+
+So much with regard to Hawbury. For Minnie and her sister the
+indefatigable priest had already concocted a plan before leaving home.
+This was the very commonplace plan of a disguise. It was to be an old
+woman's apparel, and he trusted to the chapter of accidents to make
+the plan a success. He noticed with pleasure that some women were at
+the place, and thought that the prisoners might be confounded with
+them.
+
+When at length Ethel had explained the plan to Hawbury he made a few
+further objections, but finally declared himself ready to carry it
+out.
+
+The priest now began to put his project into execution. He had brought
+a screw-driver with him, and with this he took out the screws from the
+coffin one by one, as quietly as possible.
+
+Then the lid was lifted off, and Hawbury arose and helped the priest
+to transfer the corpse from the coffin to the straw. They then put the
+corpse on its side, with the face to the wall, and bound the hands
+behind it, and the feet also. The priest then took Hawbury's
+handkerchief and bound it around the head of the corpse. One or two
+rugs that lay near were thrown over the figure, so that it at length
+looked like a sleeping man.
+
+Hawbury now got into the coffin and lay down on his back at full
+length. The priest had brought some bits of wood with him, and these
+he put on the edge of the coffin in such a way that the lid would be
+kept off at a distance of about a quarter of an inch. Through this
+opening Hawbury could have all the air that was requisite for
+breathing.
+
+Then Ethel assisted the priest to lift the lid on.
+
+Thus far all had been quiet; but now a slight noise was heard below.
+Some men were moving. Ethel was distracted with anxiety, but the
+priest was as cool as a clock. He whispered to her to go back to the
+room where she belonged.
+
+"Will you be able to finish it?" she asked.
+
+"Sure an' I will--only don't you be afther stayin' here any longer."
+
+At this Ethel stole back to Minnie's room, and stood listening with a
+quick-beating heart.
+
+But the priest worked coolly and dextrously. He felt for the holes to
+which the screws belonged, and succeeded in putting in two of them.
+
+Then there was a noise in the hall below.
+
+The priest began to put in the third screw.
+
+There were footsteps on the stairs.
+
+He screwed on.
+
+Nearer and nearer came the steps.
+
+The priest still kept to his task.
+
+At last a man entered the room. Ethel, who had heard all, was faint
+with anxiety. She was afraid that the priest had not finished his
+task.
+
+Her fears were groundless.
+
+Just as the foremost of the men entered the room the priest finished
+screwing, and stood by the coffin, having slipped the screw-driver
+into his pocket, as calm as though nothing had happened. Three of the
+screws were in, and that was as many as were needed.
+
+The men brought no light with them, and this circumstance was in the
+priest's favor.
+
+"You've been keeping me waiting long," said the priest, in Italian.
+
+"You may be glad it wasn't longer," said one of them, in a sullen
+tone. "Where is it?"
+
+"Here," said the priest.
+
+The men gathered around the coffin, and stooped down over it, one at
+each corner. Then they raised it up. Then they carried it out; and
+soon the heavy steps of the men were heard as they went down the
+stairs with their burden.
+
+Ethel still stood watching and listening.
+
+As she listened she heard some one ascending the stairs. New terror
+arose. Something was wrong, and all would be discovered. But the man
+who came up had no light, and that was one comfort. She could not see
+who it was.
+
+The man stopped for a moment in front of Minnie's door, and stood so
+close to her that she heard his breathing. It was quick and heavy,
+like the breathing of a very tired or a very excited man. Then he
+turned away and went to the door of the front-room opposite. Here he
+also stood for a few moments.
+
+All was still.
+
+Then he came back, and entered Hawbury's room.
+
+Now the crisis had come--the moment when all might be discovered. And
+if so, they all were lost. Ethel bent far forward and tried to peer
+through the gloom. She saw the dark figure of the new-comer pass by
+one of the windows, and by the outline she knew that it was Girasole.
+He passed on into the shadow, and toward the place where the straw
+was. She could not see him any more.
+
+Girasole stepped noiselessly and cautiously, as though fearful of
+waking the sleeper. At every step he paused and listened. The silence
+reassured him.
+
+He drew nearer and nearer, his left hand groping forward, and his
+right hand holding a pistol. His movements were perfectly noiseless.
+
+His own excitement was now intense, his heart throbbed fiercely and
+almost painfully as he approached his victim.
+
+At last he reached the spot, and knelt on one knee. He listened for a
+moment. There was no noise and no movement on the part of the figure
+before him.
+
+In the gloom he could see the outline of that figure plainly. It lay
+on its side, curled up in the most comfortable attitude which could be
+assumed, where arms and legs were bound.
+
+"How soundly he sleeps!" thought Girasole.
+
+He paused for a moment, and seemed to hesitate; but it was only for a
+moment. Then, summing up his resolution, he held his pistol close to
+the head of the figure, and fired.
+
+[Illustration: "HE HELD HIS PISTOL CLOSE TO THE HEAD, AND FIRED."]
+
+The loud report echoed through the house. A shriek came from Minnie's
+room, and a cry came from Mrs. Willoughby, who sprang toward the hall.
+But Girasole came out and intercepted her.
+
+"Eet ees notin," said he, in a tremulous voice. "Eet ees all ovair.
+Eet ees only a false alarm."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby retreated to her room, and Minnie said nothing. As for
+Ethel, the suspense with her had passed away as the report of the
+pistol came to her ears.
+
+Meanwhile the coffin was carried out of the house, and the men,
+together with the priest, walked on toward a place further up the
+shore and on the outskirts of the woods. They reached a place where a
+grave was dug.
+
+At this moment a pistol-shot sounded. The priest stopped, and the men
+stopped also. They did not understand it. The priest did not know the
+cause of the shot, but seeing the alarm of the men he endeavored to
+excite their fears. One of the men went back, and was cursed by
+Girasole for his pains. So he returned to the grave, cursing every
+body.
+
+The coffin was now lowered into the grave, and the priest urged the
+men to go away and let him finish the work; but they refused. The
+fellows seemed to have some affection for their dead comrade, and
+wished to show it by putting him underground, and doing the last
+honors. So the efforts of the Irish priest, though very well meant,
+and very urgent, and very persevering, did not meet with that success
+which he anticipated.
+
+Suddenly he stopped in the midst of the burial service, which he was
+prolonging to the utmost.
+
+"Hark!" he cried, in Italian.
+
+"What?" they asked.
+
+"It's a gun! It's an alarm!"
+
+"There's no gun, and no alarm," said they.
+
+All listened, but there was no repetition of the sound, and the priest
+went on.
+
+He had to finish it.
+
+He stood trembling and at his wit's end. Already the men began to
+throw in the earth.
+
+But now there came a real alarm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+DISCOVERED.
+
+
+The report of the pistol had startled Minnie, and for a moment had
+greatly agitated her. The cry of Mrs. Willoughby elicited a response
+from her to the effect that all was right, and would, no doubt, have
+resulted in a conversation, had it not been prevented by Girasole.
+
+Minnie then relapsed into silence for a time, and Ethel took a seat by
+her side on the floor, for Minnie would not go near the straw, and
+then the two interlocked their arms in an affectionate embrace.
+
+"Ethel darling," whispered Minnie, "do you know I'm beginning to get
+awfully tired of this?"
+
+"I should think so, poor darling!"
+
+"If I only had some place to sit on," said Minnie, still reverting to
+her original grievance, "it wouldn't be so very bad, you know. I could
+put up with not having a bed, or a sofa, or that sort of thing, you
+know; but really I must say not to have any kind of a seat seems to me
+to be very, very inconsiderate, to say the least of it."
+
+"Poor darling!" said Ethel again.
+
+"And now do you know, Ethel dear, I'm beginning to feel as though I
+should really like to run away from this place, if I thought that
+horrid man wouldn't see me?"
+
+"Minnie darling," said Ethel, "that's the very thing I came for, you
+know."
+
+"Oh yes, I know! And that dear, nice, good, kind, delightful priest!
+Oh, it was so nice of you to think of a priest, Ethel dear! I'm so
+grateful! But when is he coming?"
+
+"Soon, I hope. But _do_ try not to talk so."
+
+"But I'm only whispering."
+
+"Yes, but your whispers are too loud, and I'm afraid they'll hear."
+
+"Well, I'll try to keep still; but it's so _awfully_ hard, you know,
+when one has _so_ much to say, Ethel dear."
+
+Minnie now remained silent for about five minutes.
+
+"How did you say you were going to take me away?" she asked at length.
+
+"In disguise," said Ethel.
+
+"But _what_ disguise?"
+
+"In an old woman's dress--but hu-s-s-s-sh!"
+
+"But I don't _want_ to be dressed up in an old woman's clothes; they
+make me _such_ a figure. Why, I'd be a perfect fright."
+
+"Hu-s-s-s-sh! Dear, dear Minnie, you're talking too loud. They'll
+certainly hear us," said Ethel, in a low, frightened whisper.
+
+"But _do_--_do_ promise you won't take me in an old woman's clothes!"
+
+"Oh, there--there it is again!" said Ethel. "Dear, dear Minnie,
+there's some one listening."
+
+"Well, I don't see what harm there is in what I'm saying. I only
+wanted--"
+
+Here there was a movement on the stairs just outside. Ethel had heard
+a sound of that kind two or three times, and it had given her alarm;
+but now Minnie herself heard it, and stopped speaking.
+
+And now a voice sounded from the stairs. Some Italian words were
+spoken, and seemed to be addressed to them. Of course they could make
+no reply. The words were repeated, with others, and the speaker seemed
+to be impatient. Suddenly it flashed across Ethel's mind that the
+speaker was Girasole, and that the words were addressed to her.
+
+Her impression was correct, and the speaker was Girasole. He had heard
+the sibilant sounds of the whispering, and, knowing that Minnie could
+not speak Italian, it had struck him as being a very singular thing
+that she should be whispering. Had her sister joined her? He thought
+he would go up and see. So he went up softly, and the whispering still
+went on. He therefore concluded that the "Italian woman" was not doing
+her duty, and that Mrs. Willoughby had joined her sister. This he
+would not allow; but as he had already been sufficiently harsh he did
+not wish to be more so, and therefore he called to the "Italian
+woman."
+
+"Hallo, you woman there! didn't I tell you not to let the ladies speak
+to one another?"
+
+Of course no answer was given, so Girasole grew more angry still, and
+cried out again, more imperatively:
+
+"Why do you not answer me? Where are you? Is this the way you watch?"
+
+Still there was no answer. Ethel heard, and by this time knew what his
+suspicion was; but she could neither do nor say any thing.
+
+"Come down here at once, you hag!"
+
+But the "hag" did not come down, nor did she give any answer. The
+"hag" was trembling violently, and saw that all was lost. If the
+priest were only here! If she could only have gone and returned with
+him! What kept him?
+
+Girasole now came to the top of the stairs, and spoke to Minnie.
+
+"Charming mees, are you awake?"
+
+"Yes," said Minnie.
+
+"Ees your sistaire wit you?"
+
+"No. How can _she_ be with me, I should like to know, when you've gone
+and put her in some horrid old room?"
+
+"Ah! not wit you? Who are you whisperin' to, den?"
+
+Minnie hesitated.
+
+"To my maid," said she.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT DIT YOU COME FOR?"--"FOR HER."]
+
+"Does de maid spik Inglis?" asked Girasole.
+
+"Yes," said Minnie.
+
+"Ah! I did not know eet. I mus have a look at de contadina who spiks
+Inglis. Come here, Italiana. You don't spik Italiano, I tink. Come
+here."
+
+Ethel rose to her feet.
+
+Girasole ran down, and came back after a few minutes with a lamp.
+Concealment was useless, and so Ethel did not cover her face with the
+hood. It had fallen off when she was sitting by Minnie, and hung
+loosely down her shoulders from the strings which were around her
+neck. Girasole recognized her at one glance.
+
+"Ah!" said he; and then he stood thinking. As for Ethel, now that the
+suspense was over and the worst realized, her agitation ceased. She
+stood looking at him with perfect calm.
+
+"What dit you come for?" he asked.
+
+"For _her_," said Ethel, making a gesture toward Minnie.
+
+"What could you do wit her?"
+
+"I could see her and comfort her."
+
+"Ah! an' you hope to make her escape. Ha, ha! ver well. You mus not
+complain eef you haf to soffair de consequence. Aha! an' so de priest
+bring you here--ha?"
+
+Ethel was silent.
+
+"Ah! you fear to say--you fear you harma de priest--ha?"
+
+Minnie had thus far said nothing, but now she rose and looked at
+Girasole, and then at Ethel. Then she twined one arm around Ethel's
+waist, and turned her large, soft, childish eyes upon Girasole.
+
+"What do you mean," she said, "by _always_ coming here and teasing,
+and worrying, and firing off pistols, and frightening people? I'm sure
+it was horrid enough for you to make me come to this wretched place,
+when you _know_ I don't like it, without annoying me so. Why did you
+go and take away poor darling Kitty? And what do you mean now, pray,
+by coming here? I never was treated so unkindly in my life. I did not
+think that _any one_ could be so very, very rude."
+
+"Charming mees," said Girasole, with a deprecating air, "it pains me
+to do any ting dat you do not like."
+
+"It don't pain you," said Minnie--"it don't pain you _at all_. You're
+_always_ teasing me. You _never_ do what I want you to. You wouldn't
+even give me a chair."
+
+"Alas, carissima mia, to-morra you sall haf all! But dis place is so
+remote."
+
+"It is _not_ remote," said Minnie. "It's close by roads and villages
+and things. Why, here is Ethel; she has been in a village where there
+are houses, and people, and as many chairs as she wants."
+
+"Oh, mees, eef you will but wait an' be patient--eef you will but wait
+an' see how tender I will be, an' how I lof you."
+
+"You _don't_ love me," said Minnie, "one bit. Is this love--not to
+give me a chair? I have been standing up till I am nearly ready to
+drop. And you have nothing better than some wretched promises. I don't
+care for to-morrow; I want to be comfortable to-day. You won't let me
+have a single thing. And now you come to tease me again, and frighten
+poor, dear, darling Ethel."
+
+"Eet ees because she deceif me--she come wit a plot--she steal in
+here. Eef she had wait, all would be well."
+
+"You mustn't _dare_ to touch her," said Minnie, vehemently. "You
+_shall_ leave her here. She _shall_ stay with me."
+
+"I am ver pain--oh, very; but oh, my angel--sweet--charming mees--eet
+ees dangaire to my lof. She plot to take you away. An' all my life is
+in you. Tink what I haf to do to gain you!"
+
+Minnie looked upon Girasole, with her large eyes dilated with
+excitement and resentment.
+
+"You are a horrid, horrid man," she exclaimed. "I _hate_ you."
+
+"Oh, my angel," pleaded Girasole, with deep agitation, "take back dat
+word."
+
+"I'm sorry you ever saved my life," said Minnie, very calmly; "and I'm
+sorry I ever saw you. I _hate_ you."
+
+"Ah, you gif me torment. You do not mean dis. You say once you lof
+me."
+
+"_I_ did not say I loved _you_. It was _you_ who said you loved _me_.
+_I_ never liked _you_. And I don't really see how I _could_ be engaged
+to you when I was engaged to another man before. He is the only one
+whom I recognize now. I don't know you at all. For I couldn't be bound
+to two men; could I, Ethel dear?"
+
+Ethel did not reply to this strange question.
+
+But upon Girasole its effect was very great. The manner of Minnie had
+been excessively perplexing to him all through this eventful day. If
+she had stormed and gone into a fine frenzy he could have borne it. It
+would have been natural. But she was perfectly unconcerned, and her
+only complaint was about trifles. Such trifles too! He felt ashamed to
+think that he could have subjected to such annoyances a woman whom he
+so dearly loved. And now he was once more puzzled. Minnie confronted
+him, looking at him fixedly, without one particle of fear, with her
+large, earnest, innocent eyes fastened upon his--with the calm, cool
+gaze, of some high-minded child rebuking a younger child-companion.
+This was a proceeding which he was not prepared for. Besides, the
+child-innocence of her face and of her words actually daunted him. She
+seemed so fearless, because she was so innocent. She became a greater
+puzzle than ever. He had never seen much of her before, and this day's
+experience of her had actually daunted him and confounded him. And
+what was the worst to him of all her words was her calm and simple
+declaration, "I hate you!"
+
+"Yes," said Minnie, thoughtfully, "it must be so; and dear Kitty would
+have said the same, only she was so awfully prejudiced. And I always
+thought he was so nice. Yes, I think I really must be engaged to him.
+But as for you," she said, turning full upon Girasole, "I hate you!"
+
+Girasole's face grew white with rage and jealousy.
+
+"Aha!" said he. "You lof _him_. Aha! An' you were engage to _him_.
+Aha!"
+
+"Yes, I really think so."
+
+"Aha! Well, listen," cried Girasole, in a hoarse voice--"listen.
+He--he--de rival--de one you say you are engage--he is dead!"
+
+And with this he fastened upon Minnie his eyes that now gleamed with
+rage, and had an expression in them that might have made Ethel quiver
+with horror, but she did not, for she knew that Girasole was mistaken
+on that point.
+
+As for Minnie, she was not at all impressed by his fierce looks.
+
+"I don't think you really know what you're talking about," said she;
+"and you're very, very unpleasant. At any rate, you are altogether in
+the wrong when you say he is dead."
+
+"Dead! He is dead! I swear it!" cried Girasole, whose manner was a
+little toned down by Minnie's coolness.
+
+"This is getting to be awfully funny, you know," said Minnie. "I
+really think we don't know what one another is talking about. I'm sure
+_I_ don't, and I'm sure _he_ don't, either; does he, Ethel darling?"
+
+"De Inglis milor," said Girasole. "He is dead."
+
+"Well, but I don't mean him at all," said Minnie.
+
+"Who--who?" gasped Girasole. "Who--who--who?"
+
+"Why, the person I mean," said Minnie, very placidly, "is Rufus K.
+Gunn."
+
+Girasole uttered something like a howl, and retreated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+UNDER ARREST.
+
+
+Girasole retreated half-way down the stairs, and then he stopped for
+some time and thought. Then he came back and motioned to Ethel.
+
+"You must come," he said, gruffly.
+
+"You shall not," said Minnie.
+
+"No, no, darling," said Ethel; "I had better go. It will only get you
+into fresh trouble. And I'll be back as soon as I can."
+
+"Oh, how I _hate_ you!" said Minnie to Girasole. The latter said
+nothing. Ethel kissed Minnie, and descended the stairs after him.
+
+The Irish priest was standing over the grave bathed in a cold
+perspiration, his heart throbbing violently, every new thud of the
+earth, as it sounded violently against the coffin, sending a cold
+chill of horror through every nerve. Already enough earth had been
+thrown to cover three-quarters of the lid, and at the foot it was
+heaped up some distance. He tried to frame some excuse to get the men
+away. His brain whirled; his mind was confused; his thoughts refused
+to be collected.
+
+And now, in the midst of this, the attention of all was attracted by a
+loud stern voice, which sounded from some one near. The priest looked
+around. The men stopped shoveling, and turned to see the cause of the
+noise.
+
+Girasole was seen approaching, and was already near enough to be
+distinguished. Behind him followed a female form. At this sight the
+priest's mind misgave him.
+
+Girasole came up, and now the priest saw that the female was no other
+than Ethel.
+
+"Where is this priest?" asked Girasole, angrily, speaking, of course,
+in Italian.
+
+The priest advanced.
+
+"I am here," said he, with quiet dignity.
+
+At this change in the state of affairs the priest regained his
+presence of mind. The cessation in the work gave him relief, and
+enabled him to recall his scattered and confused thoughts. The men
+stood looking at the speakers, and listening, leaning on their
+shovels.
+
+"You were sent for?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And a maid?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You brought this lady?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You put her in disguise; you passed her off as an Italian?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The priest made no attempt at denial or equivocation. He knew that
+this would be useless. He waited for an opportunity to excuse himself,
+and to explain rather than to deny. But every answer of his only
+served to increase the fury of Girasole, who seemed determined to
+visit upon the head of the priest and Ethel the rage that he felt at
+his last interview with Minnie.
+
+"Then why," cried Girasole, "did you try to trick us? Don't you know
+the punishment we give to spies and traitors?"
+
+"I have nothing to do with spies and traitors."
+
+"You are one yourself."
+
+"I am not."
+
+"You lie!"
+
+"I do not," said the priest, mildly. "Hear me, and let me tell my
+story, and you will see that I am not a traitor; or, if you don't wish
+to listen, then question me."
+
+"There is but one question. What made you bring this lady?"
+
+"That is simply answered," said the priest, with unfaltering calmness.
+"This lady and her friends arrived at my village and claimed
+hospitality. They were in distress. Some of their friends had been
+taken from them. A message came from you requesting my presence, and
+also a lady's-maid. There was no stipulation about the kind of one.
+This lady was the intimate friend of the captive, and entreated me to
+take her, so that she should see her friend, and comfort her, and
+share her captivity. I saw no harm in the wish. She proposed to become
+a lady's-maid. I saw no harm in that."
+
+"Why did she disguise herself?"
+
+"So as to pass without trouble. She didn't want to be delayed. She
+wanted to see her friends as soon as possible. If you had questioned
+her, you would no doubt have let her pass."
+
+"I would, no doubt, have done nothing of the kind."
+
+"I don't see any objection," said the priest.
+
+"Objection? She is a spy!"
+
+"A spy? Of what, pray?"
+
+"She came to help her friend to escape."
+
+"To escape? How could she possibly help her to escape? Do you think it
+so easy to escape from this place?"
+
+Girasole was silent.
+
+"Do you think a young lady, who has never been out of the care of her
+friends before, could do much to assist a friend like herself in an
+escape?"
+
+"She might."
+
+"But how? This is not the street of a city. That house is watched, I
+think. There seem to be a few men in these woods, if I am not
+mistaken. Could this young lady help her friend to elude all these
+guards? Why, you know very well that she could not."
+
+"Yes; but then there is--"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Yourself."
+
+"Myself?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What of me?"
+
+"What do I know about your designs?"
+
+"What designs could _I_ have? Do you think _I_ could plan an escape?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why not? What! living here close beside you? _I_ be a traitor? _I_,
+with my life at your mercy at all times--with my throat within such
+easy reach of any assassin who might choose to revenge my treachery?"
+
+"We are not assassins," said Girasole, angrily.
+
+"And I am not a traitor," rejoined the priest, mildly.
+
+[Illustration: UNDER GUARD.]
+
+Girasole was silent, and stood in thought. The men at the grave had
+heard every word of this conversation. Once they laughed in scorn when
+the priest alluded to the absurdity of a young girl escaping. It was
+too ridiculous. Their sympathies were evidently with the priest. The
+charge against him could not be maintained.
+
+"Well," said Girasole at length, "I don't trust you. You may be
+traitors, after all. I will have you guarded, and if I find out any
+thing that looks like treason, by Heaven I will have your life, old
+man, even if you should be the Holy Father himself; and as to the
+lady--well, I will find plenty of ways," he added, with a sneer, "of
+inflicting on her a punishment commensurable with her crime. Here, you
+men, come along with me," he added, looking at the men by the grave.
+
+"But we want to finish poor Antonio's grave," remonstrated one of the
+men.
+
+"Bah! he'll keep," said Girasole, with a sneer.
+
+"Can't one of us stay?" asked the man.
+
+"No, not one; I want you all. If they are traitors, they are deep
+ones. They must be guarded; and, mind you, if they escape, you shall
+suffer."
+
+With these words he led the way, and the priest and Ethel followed
+him. After these came the men, who had thrown down their shovels
+beside the grave. They all walked on in silence, following Girasole,
+who led the way to a place beyond the grave, and within view of one of
+the fires formerly alluded to. The place was about half-way between
+the grave and the fire. It was a little knoll bare of trees, and from
+it they could be seen by those at the nearest fire. Here Girasole
+paused, and, with some final words of warning to the guards, he turned
+and took his departure.
+
+The priest sat down upon the grass, and urged Ethel to do the same.
+She followed his advice, and sat down by his side. The guards sat
+around them so as to encircle them, and, mindful of Girasole's charge,
+they kept their faces turned toward them, so as to prevent even the
+very thought of flight. The priest addressed a few mild parental words
+to the men, who gave him very civil responses, but relaxed not a
+particle of their vigilance.
+
+In the priest's mind there was still some anxiety, but much greater
+hope than he had dared to have for some time. He remembered that the
+coffin was not all covered over, and hoped that the inmate might be
+able to breathe. The fact that the work had been so unexpectedly
+interrupted was one which filled him with joy, and gave rise to the
+best hopes. The only offset to all this was his own captivity, but
+that was a very serious one. Besides, he knew that his life hung upon
+a thread. Before the next day Girasole would certainly discover all,
+and in that case he was a doomed man. But his nature was of a kind
+that could not borrow trouble, and so the fact of the immediate safety
+of Hawbury was of far more importance, and attracted far more of his
+thoughts, than his own certain but more remote danger.
+
+As for Ethel, she was now a prey to the deepest anxiety. All was
+discovered except the mere fact of Hawbury's removal, and how long
+that would remain concealed she could not know. Every moment she
+expected to hear the cry of those who might discover the exchange. And
+Hawbury, so long lost, so lately found--Hawbury, whom she had
+suspected of falsity so long and so long avoided, who now had proved
+himself so constant and so true--what was his fate? She had gazed with
+eyes of horror at that grave wherein he lay, and had seen the men
+shoveling in the earth as she came up. The recollection of this filled
+her with anguish. Had they buried him?--how deep was the earth that
+lay over him?--could there, indeed, be any hope?
+
+All depended on the priest. She hoped that he had prevented things
+from going too far. She had seen him watching the grave, and
+motionless. What did that inactivity mean? Was it a sign that Hawbury
+was safe, or was it merely because he could not do any thing?
+
+She was distracted by such fearful thoughts as these. Her heart once
+more throbbed with those painful pulsations which she had felt when
+approaching Hawbury. For some time she sat supporting her agony as
+best she could, and not daring to ask the priest, for fear their
+guards might suspect the truth, or perhaps understand her words.
+
+But at last she could bear it no longer.
+
+She touched the priest's arm as he sat beside her, without looking at
+him.
+
+The priest returned the touch.
+
+"Is he safe?" she asked, in a tremulous voice, which was scarce
+audible from grief and anxiety.
+
+"He is," said the priest.
+
+And then, looking at the man before him, he added immediately, in an
+unconcerned tone,
+
+"She wants to know what time it is, and I told her two o'clock. That's
+right, isn't it?"
+
+"About right," said the man.
+
+Now that was a lie, but whether it was justifiable or not may be left
+to others to decide.
+
+As for Ethel, an immense load of anxiety was lifted off her mind, and
+she began to breathe more freely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE DEMON WIFE.
+
+
+When Dacres was overpowered by his assailants no mercy was shown him.
+His hands were bound tight behind him, and kicks and blows were
+liberally bestowed during the operation. Finally, he was pushed and
+dragged into the house, and up stairs to the room already mentioned.
+There he was still further secured by a tight rope around his ankles,
+after which he was left to his own meditations.
+
+Gloomy and bitter and fierce, indeed, were those meditations. His body
+was covered with bruises, and though no bones were broken, yet his
+pain was great. In addition to this the cords around his wrists and
+ankles were very tight, and his veins seemed swollen to bursting. It
+was difficult to get an easy position, and he could only lie on his
+side or on his face. These bodily pains only intensified the
+fierceness of his thoughts and made them turn more vindictively than
+ever upon the subject of his wife.
+
+She was the cause of all this, he thought. She had sacrificed every
+thing to her love for her accursed paramour. For this she had betrayed
+him, and her friends, and the innocent girl who was her companion. All
+the malignant feelings which had filled his soul through the day now
+swelled within him, till he was well-nigh mad. Most intolerable of all
+was his position now--the baffled enemy. He had come as the avenger,
+he had come as the destroyer; but he had been entrapped before he had
+struck his blow, and here he was now lying, defeated, degraded, and
+humiliated! No doubt he would be kept to afford sport to his
+enemy--perhaps even his wife might come to gloat over his sufferings,
+and feast her soul with the sight of his ruin. Over such thoughts as
+these he brooded, until at last he had wrought himself into something
+like frenzy, and with the pain that he felt, and the weariness that
+followed the fatigues of that day, these thoughts might finally have
+brought on madness, had they gone on without any thing to disturb
+them.
+
+But all these thoughts and ravings were destined to come to a full and
+sudden stop, and to be changed to others of a far different character.
+This change took place when Girasole, after visiting the ladies, came,
+with Mrs. Willoughby, to his room. As Dacres lay on the floor he heard
+the voice of the Italian, and the faint, mournful, pleading tones of a
+woman's voice, and, finally, he saw the flash of a light, and knew
+that the Italian was coming to his room, and perhaps this woman also.
+He held his breath in suspense. What did it mean? The tone of Girasole
+was not the tone of love. The light drew nearer, and the footsteps
+too--one a heavy footfall, the tread of a man; the other lighter, the
+step of a woman. He waited almost breathless.
+
+At last she appeared. There she was before him, and with the Italian;
+but oh, how changed from that demon woman of his fancies, who was to
+appear before him with his enemy and gloat over his sufferings! Was
+there a trace of a fiend in that beautiful and gentle face? Was there
+thought of joy or exultation over him in that noble and mournful lady,
+whose melancholy grace and tearful eyes now riveted his gaze? Where
+was the foul traitor who had done to death her husband and her friend?
+Where was the miscreant who had sacrificed all to a guilty passion?
+Not there; not with that face; not with those tears: to think that was
+impossible--it was unholy. He might rave when he did not see her, but
+now that his eyes beheld her those mad fancies were all dissipated.
+
+There was only one thing there--a woman full of loveliness and grace,
+in the very bloom of her life, overwhelmed with suffering which this
+Italian was inflicting on her. Why? Could he indulge the unholy
+thought that the Italian had cast her off, and supplied her place with
+the younger beauty? Away with such a thought! It was not jealousy of
+that younger lady that Dacres perceived; it was the cry of a loving,
+yearning heart that clung to that other one, from whom the Italian had
+violently severed her. There was no mistake as to the source of this
+sorrow. Nothing was left to the imagination. Her own words told all.
+
+Then the light was taken away, and the lady crouched upon the floor.
+Dacres could no longer see her amidst that gloom; but he could hear
+her; and every sob, and every sigh, and every moan went straight to
+his heart and thrilled through every fibre of his being. He lay there
+listening, and quivering thus as he listened with a very intensity of
+sympathy that shut out from his mind every other thought except that
+of the mourning, stricken one before him.
+
+Thus a long time passed, and the lady wept still, and other sounds
+arose, and there were footsteps in the house, and whisperings, and
+people passing to and fro; but to all these Dacres was deaf, and they
+caused no more impression on his senses than if they were not. His
+ears and his sense of hearing existed only for these sobs and these
+sighs.
+
+At last a pistol-shot roused him. The lady sprang up and called in
+despair. A cry came back, and the lady was about to venture to the
+other room, when she was driven back by the stern voice of Girasole.
+Then she stood for a moment, after which she knelt, and Dacres heard
+her voice in prayer. The prayer was not audible, but now and then
+words struck upon his ears which gave the key to her other words, and
+he knew that it was no prayer of remorse for guilt, but a cry for help
+in sore affliction.
+
+Had any thing more been needed to destroy the last vestige of Dacres's
+former suspicions it was furnished by the words which he now heard.
+
+"Oh, Heaven!" he thought; "can this woman be what I have thought her?
+But if not, what a villain am I! Yet now I must rather believe myself
+to be a villain than her!"
+
+In the midst of this prayer Girasole's voice sounded, and then
+Minnie's tones came clearly audible. The lady rose and listened, and a
+great sigh of relief escaped her. Then Girasole descended the stairs,
+and the lady again sank upon her knees.
+
+Thus far there seemed a spell upon Dacres; but this last incident and
+the clear child-voice of Minnie seemed to break it. He could no longer
+keep silence. His emotion was as intense as ever, but the bonds which
+had bound his lips seemed now to be loosened.
+
+"Oh, Arethusa!" he moaned.
+
+At the sound of his voice Mrs. Willoughby started, and rose to her
+feet. So great had been her anxiety and agitation that for some time
+she had not thought of another being in the room, and there had been
+no sound from him to suggest his existence. But now his voice startled
+her. She gave no answer, however.
+
+"Arethusa!" repeated Dacres, gently and longingly and tenderly.
+
+"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's dreaming."
+
+"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa!" said Dacres once more. "Do not keep away.
+Come to me. I am calm now."
+
+"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby. "He doesn't seem to be asleep.
+He's talking to me. I really think he is."
+
+"Arethusa," said Dacres again, "will you answer me one question?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby hesitated for a moment, but now perceived that Dacres
+was really speaking to her. "He's in delirium," she thought. "Poor
+fellow, I must humor him, I suppose. But what a funny name to give
+me!"
+
+So, after a little preparatory cough, Mrs. Willoughby said, in a low
+voice,
+
+"What question?"
+
+Dacres was silent for a few moments. He was overcome by his emotions.
+He wished to ask her one question--the question of all questions in
+his mind. Already her acts had answered it sufficiently; but he longed
+to have the answer in her own words. Yet he hesitated to ask it. It
+was dishonor to her to ask it. And thus, between longing and
+hesitation, he delayed so long that Mrs. Willoughby imagined that he
+had fallen back into his dreams or into his delirium, and would say no
+more.
+
+But at last Dacres staked every thing on the issue, and asked it:
+
+"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa! do you--do you love--the--the Italian?"
+
+"The Italian!" said Mrs. Willoughby--"love the Italian! me!" and then
+in a moment she thought that this was his delirium, and she must humor
+it. "Poor fellow!" she sighed again; "how he fought them! and no doubt
+he has had fearful blows on his head."
+
+"Do you? do you? Oh, answer, I implore you!" cried Dacres.
+
+"No!" said Mrs. Willoughby, solemnly. "I hate him as I never hated man
+before." She spoke her mind this time, although she thought the other
+was delirious.
+
+A sigh of relief and of happiness came from Dacres, so deep that it
+was almost a groan.
+
+"And oh," he continued, "tell me this--have you ever loved him at
+all?"
+
+"I always disliked him excessively," said Mrs. Willoughby, in the same
+low and solemn tone. "I saw something bad--altogether bad--in his
+face."
+
+"Oh, may Heaven forever bless you for that word!" exclaimed Dacres,
+with such a depth of fervor that Mrs. Willoughby was surprised. She
+now believed that he was intermingling dreams with realities, and
+tried to lead him to sense by reminding him of the truth.
+
+"It was Minnie, you know, that he was fond of."
+
+"What! Minnie Fay?"
+
+"Yes; oh yes. I never saw any thing of him."
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" cried Dacres; "oh, Heavens, what a fool, beast,
+villain, and scoundrel I have been! Oh, how I have misjudged _you_!
+And can _you_ forgive me? Oh, can you? But no--you can not."
+
+At this appeal Mrs. Willoughby was startled, and did not know what to
+say or to do. How much of this was delirium and how much real she
+could not tell. One thing seemed evident to her, and that was that,
+whether delirious or not, he took her for another person. But she was
+so full of pity for him, and so very tender-hearted, that her only idea
+was to "humor" him.
+
+"Oh," he cried again, "can this all be true, and have all my
+suspicions been as mad as these last? And _you_--how _you_ have
+changed! How beautiful you are! What tenderness there is in your
+glance--what a pure and gentle and touching grace there is in your
+expression! I swear to you, by Heaven! I have stood gazing at you in
+places where you have not seen me, and thought I saw heaven in your
+face, and worshiped you in my inmost soul. This is the reason why I
+have followed you. From the time I saw you when you came into the room
+at Naples till this night I could not get rid of your image. I fought
+against the feeling, but I can not overcome it. Never, never were you
+half so dear as you are now!"
+
+Now, of course, that was all very well, considered as the language of
+an estranged husband seeking for reconciliation with an estranged
+wife; but when one regards it simply as the language of a passionate
+lover directed to a young and exceedingly pretty widow, one will
+perceive that it was _not_ all very well, and that under ordinary
+circumstances it might create a sensation.
+
+Upon Mrs. Willoughby the sensation was simply tremendous. She had
+begun by "humoring" the delirious man; but now she found his delirium
+taking a course which was excessively embarrassing. The worst of it
+was, there was truth enough in his language to increase the
+embarrassment. She remembered at once how the mournful face of this
+man had appeared before her in different places. Her thoughts
+instantly reverted to that evening on the balcony when his pale face
+appeared behind the fountain. There was truth in his words; and her
+heart beat with extraordinary agitation at the thought. Yet at the
+same time there was some mistake about it all; and he was clearly
+delirious.
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Is there a
+possibility of it? Oh, can you forgive me? Can you--can you?"
+
+He was clearly delirious now. Her heart was full of pity for him. He
+was suffering too. He was bound fast. Could she not release him? It
+was terrible for this man to lie there bound thus. And perhaps he had
+fallen into the hands of these ruffians while trying to save _her_ and
+her sister. She must free him.
+
+"Would you like to be loosed?" she asked, coming nearer. "Shall I cut
+your bonds?"
+
+She spoke in a low whisper.
+
+"Oh, tell me first, I implore you! Can you forgive me?"
+
+He spoke in such a piteous tone that her heart was touched.
+
+"Forgive you?" she said, in a voice full of sympathy and pity. "There
+is nothing for _me_ to forgive."
+
+"Now may Heaven forever bless you for that sweet and gentle word!"
+said Dacres, who altogether misinterpreted her words, and the emphasis
+she placed on them; and in his voice there was such peace, and such a
+gentle, exultant happiness, that Mrs. Willoughby again felt touched.
+
+"Poor fellow!" she thought; "how he _must_ have suffered!"
+
+"Where are you fastened?" she whispered, as she bent over him. Dacres
+felt her breath upon his cheek; the hem of her garment touched his
+sleeve, and a thrill passed through him. He felt as though he would
+like to be forever thus, with _her_ bending over him.
+
+"My hands are fastened behind me," said he.
+
+"I have a knife," said Mrs. Willoughby. She did not stop to think of
+danger. It was chiefly pity that incited her to this. She could not
+bear to see him lying thus in pain, which he had perhaps, as she
+supposed, encountered for her. She was impulsive, and though she
+thought of his assistance toward the escape of Minnie and herself, yet
+pity and compassion were her chief inspiring motives.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby had told Girasole that she had no knife; but this was
+not quite true, for she now produced one, and cut the cords that bound
+his wrists. Again a thrill flashed through him at the touch of her
+little fingers; she then cut the cords that bound his ankles.
+
+Dacres sat up. His ankles and wrists were badly swollen, but he was no
+longer conscious of pain. There was rapture in his soul, and of that
+alone was he conscious.
+
+"Be careful!" she whispered, warningly; "guards are all around, and
+listeners. Be careful! If you can think of a way of escape, do so."
+
+Dacres rubbed his hand over his forehead.
+
+"Am I dreaming?" said he; "or is it all true? A while ago I was
+suffering from some hideous vision; yet now you say you forgive me!"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby saw in this a sign of returning delirium. "But the
+poor fellow must be humored, I suppose," she thought.
+
+"Oh, there is nothing for _me_ to forgive," said she.
+
+"But if there were any thing, would you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Freely?" he cried, with a strong emphasis.
+
+"Yes, freely."
+
+"Oh, could you answer me one more question? Oh, could you?"
+
+"No, no; not now--not now, I entreat you," said Mrs. Willoughby, in
+nervous dread. She was afraid that his delirium would bring him upon
+delicate ground, and she tried to hold him back.
+
+"But I must ask you," said Dacres, trembling fearfully--"I must--now
+or never. Tell me my doom; I have suffered so much. Oh, Heavens!
+Answer me. Can you? Can you feel toward me as you once did?"
+
+"He's utterly mad," thought Mrs. Willoughby; "but he'll get worse if I
+don't soothe him. Poor fellow! I ought to answer him."
+
+"Yes," she said, in a low voice.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" murmured Dacres, in rapture inexpressible; "my
+darling!" he repeated; and grasping Mrs. Willoughby's hand, he pressed
+it to his lips. "And you will love me again--you will love me?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby paused. The man was mad, but the ground was so
+dangerous! Yes, she must humor him. She felt his hot kisses on her
+hand.
+
+"You _will_--you _will_ love me, will you not?" he repeated. "Oh,
+answer me! Answer me, or I shall die!"
+
+"Yes," whispered Mrs. Willoughby, faintly.
+
+As she said this a cold chill passed through her. But it was too late.
+Dacres's arms were around her. He had drawn her to him, and pressed
+her against his breast, and she felt hot tears upon her head.
+
+"Oh, Arethusa!" cried Dacres.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Willoughby, as soon as she could extricate herself,
+"there's a mistake, you know."
+
+"A mistake, darling?"
+
+"Oh dear, what _shall_ I do?" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's beginning
+again. I must stop this, and bring him to his senses. How terrible it
+is to humor a delirious man!"
+
+"Oh, Arethusa!" sighed Dacres once more.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby arose.
+
+"I'm not Arethusa at all," said she; "that isn't my name. If you _can_
+shake off your delirium, I wish you would. I really do."
+
+"What!" cried Dacres, in amazement.
+
+"I'm not Arethusa at all; that isn't my name."
+
+"Not your name?"
+
+"No; my name's Kitty."
+
+"Kitty!" cried Dacres, starting to his feet.
+
+At that instant the report of a gun burst upon their ears, followed by
+another and another; then there were wild calls and loud shouts. Other
+guns were heard.
+
+Yet amidst all this wild alarm there was nothing which had so
+tremendous an effect upon Dacres as this last remark of Mrs.
+Willoughby's.
+
+[Illustration: "THE PRIEST FLUNG HIMSELF FORWARD."]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE CRISIS OF LIFE.
+
+
+When the Irish priest conjectured that it was about two o'clock in the
+morning he was not very far astray in his calculation. The short
+remarks that were exchanged between him and Ethel, and afterward
+between him and the men, were followed by a profound silence. Ethel
+sat by the side of the priest, with her head bent forward and her eyes
+closed as though she were asleep; yet sleep was farther from her than
+ever it had been, and the thrilling events of the night afforded
+sufficient material to keep her awake for many a long hour yet to
+come. Her mind was now filled with a thousand conflicting and most
+exciting fancies, in the midst of which she might again have sunk into
+despair had she not been sustained by the assurance of the priest.
+
+Sitting near Ethel, the priest for some time looked fixedly ahead of
+him as though he were contemplating the solemn midnight scene, or
+meditating upon the beauties of nature. In truth, the scene around was
+one which was deserving even of the close attention which the priest
+appeared to give. Immediately before him lay the lake, its shore not
+far beneath, and almost at their feet. Around it arose the wooded
+hills, whose dark forms, darker from the gloom of night, threw
+profound shadows over the opposite shores. Near by the shore extended
+on either side. On the right there were fires, now burning low, yet
+occasionally sending forth flashes; on the left, and at some distance,
+might be seen the dusky outline of the old stone house. Behind them
+was the forest, vast, gloomy, clothed in impenetrable shade, in which
+lay their only hope of safety, yet where even now there lurked the
+watchful guards of the brigands. It was close behind them. Once in its
+shelter, and they might gain freedom; yet between them and it was an
+impassable barrier of enemies, and there also lay a still more
+impassable barrier in the grave where Hawbury lay. To fly, even if
+they could fly, would be to give him up to death; yet to remain, as
+they must remain, would be to doom him to death none the less, and
+themselves too.
+
+Seated there, with his eyes directed toward the water, the priest saw
+nothing of the scene before him; his eyes were fixed on vacancy; his
+thoughts were endeavoring to grapple with the situation and master it.
+Yet so complicated was that situation, and so perplexing the dilemma
+in which he found himself--a dilemma where death perched upon either
+horn--that the good priest found his faculties becoming gradually more
+and more unable to deal with the difficulty, and he felt himself once
+more sinking down deeper and deeper into that abyss of despair from
+which he had but recently extricated himself.
+
+And still the time passed, and the precious moments, laden with the
+fate not only of Hawbury, but of all the others--the moments of the
+night during which alone any escape was to be thought of--moved all
+too swiftly away.
+
+Now in this hour of perplexity the good priest bethought him of a
+friend whose fidelity had been proved through the varied events of a
+life--a friend which, in his life of celibacy, had found in his heart
+something of that place which a fond and faithful wife may hold in the
+heart of a more fortunate man. It was a little friend, a fragrant
+friend, a tawny and somewhat grimy friend; it was in the pocket of his
+coat; it was of clay; in fact, it was nothing else than a dudeen.
+
+Where in the world had the good priest who lived in this remote corner
+of Italy got that emblem of his green native isle? Perhaps he had
+brought it with him in the band of his hat when he first turned his
+back upon his country, or perhaps he had obtained it from the same
+quarter which had supplied him with that very black plug of tobacco
+which he brought forth shortly afterward. The one was the complement
+of the other, and each was handled with equal love and care. Soon the
+occupation of cutting up the tobacco and rubbing it gave a temporary
+distraction to his thoughts, which distraction was prolonged by the
+further operation of pressing the tobacco into the bowl of the dudeen.
+
+Here the priest paused and cast a longing look toward the fire, which
+was not far away.
+
+"Would you have any objection to let me go and get a coal to light the
+pipe?" said he to one of the men.
+
+The man had an objection, and a very strong one.
+
+"Would one of you be kind enough to go and get me a brand or a hot
+coal?"
+
+This led to an earnest debate, and finally one of the men thought that
+he might venture. Before doing so, however, a solemn promise was
+extorted from the priest that he would not try to escape during his
+absence. This the priest gave.
+
+"Escape!" he said--"it's a smoke I want. Besides, how can I escape
+with three of ye watching me? And then, what would I want to escape
+for? I'm safe enough here."
+
+The man now went off, and returned in a short time with a brand. The
+priest gave him his blessing, and received the brand with a quiet
+exultation that was pleasing to behold.
+
+"Matches," said he, "ruin the smoke. They give it a sulphur taste.
+There's nothing like a hot coal."
+
+Saying this, he lighted his pipe. This operation was accomplished with
+a series of those short, quick, hard, percussive puffs with which the
+Irish race in every clime on this terrestrial ball perform the solemn
+rite.
+
+And now the thoughts of the priest became more calm and regular and
+manageable. His confusion departed, and gradually, as the smoke
+ascended to the skies, there was diffused over his soul a certain
+soothing and all-pervading calm.
+
+He now began to face the full difficulty of his position. He saw that
+escape was impossible and death inevitable. He made up his mind to
+die. The discovery would surely be made in the morning that Hawbury
+had been substituted for the robber; he would be found and punished,
+and the priest would be involved in his fate. His only care now was
+for Ethel; and he turned his thoughts toward the formation of some
+plan by which he might obtain mercy for her.
+
+He was in the midst of these thoughts--for himself resigned, for Ethel
+anxious--and turning over in his mind all the various modes by which
+the emotion of pity or mercy might be roused in a merciless and
+pitiless nature; he was thinking of an appeal to the brigands
+themselves, and had already decided that in this there lay his best
+hope of success--when all of a sudden these thoughts were rudely
+interrupted and dissipated and scattered to the winds by a most
+startling cry.
+
+Ethel started to her feet.
+
+"Oh Heavens!" she cried, "what was that?"
+
+"Down! down!" cried the men, wrathfully; but before Ethel could obey
+the sound was repeated, and the men themselves were arrested by it.
+
+The sound that thus interrupted the meditations of the priest was the
+explosion of a rifle. As Ethel started up another followed. This
+excited the men themselves, who now listened intently to learn the
+cause.
+
+They did not have to wait long.
+
+Another rifle explosion followed, which was succeeded by a loud, long
+shriek.
+
+"An attack!" cried one of the men, with a deep curse. They listened
+still, yet did not move away from the place, for the duty to which
+they had been assigned was still prominent in their minds. The priest
+had already risen to his feet, still smoking his pipe, as though in
+this new turn of affairs its assistance might be more than ever needed
+to enable him to preserve his presence of mind, and keep his soul
+serene in the midst of confusion.
+
+And now they saw all around them the signs of agitation. Figures in
+swift motion flitted to and fro amidst the shade, and others darted
+past the smouldering fires. In the midst of this another shot sounded,
+and another, and still another. At the third there was a wild yell of
+rage and pain, followed by the shrill cry of a woman's voice. The fact
+was evident that some one of the brigands had fallen, and the women
+were lamenting.
+
+The confusion grew greater. Loud cries arose; calls of encouragement,
+of entreaty, of command, and of defiance. Over by the old house there
+was the uproar of rushing men, and in the midst of it a loud, stern
+voice of command. The voices and the rushing footsteps moved from the
+house to the woods. Then all was still for a time.
+
+It was but for a short time, however. Then came shot after shot in
+rapid succession. The flashes could be seen among the trees. All
+around them there seemed to be a struggle going on. There was some
+unseen assailant striking terrific blows from the impenetrable shadow
+of the woods. The brigands were firing back, but they fired only into
+thick darkness. Shrieks and yells of pain arose from time to time, the
+direction of which showed that the brigands were suffering. Among the
+assailants there was neither voice nor cry. But, in spite of their
+losses and the disadvantage under which they labored, the brigands
+fought well, and resisted stubbornly. From time to time a loud, stern
+voice arose, whose commands resounded far and wide, and sustained the
+courage of the men and directed their movements.
+
+The men who guarded the priest and Ethel were growing more and more
+excited every moment, and were impatient at their enforced inaction.
+
+"They must be soldiers," said one.
+
+"Of course," said another.
+
+"They fight well."
+
+"Ay; better than the last time."
+
+"How did they learn to fight so well under cover?"
+
+"They've improved. The last time we met them we shot them like sheep,
+and drove them back in five minutes."
+
+"They've got a leader who understands fighting in the woods. He keeps
+them under cover."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Diavolo! who knows? They get new captains every day."
+
+"Was there not a famous American Indian--"
+
+"True. I heard of him. An Indian warrior from the American forests.
+Guiseppe saw him when he was at Rome."
+
+"Bah!--you all saw him."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the road."
+
+"We didn't."
+
+"You did. He was the Zouave who fled to the woods first."
+
+"He?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Diavolo!"
+
+These words were exchanged between them as they looked at the
+fighting. But suddenly there came rapid flashes and rolling volleys
+beyond the fires that lay before them, and the movement of the flashes
+showed that a rush had been made toward the lake. Wild yells arose,
+then fierce returning fires, and these showed that the brigands were
+being driven back.
+
+The guards could endure this no longer.
+
+"They are beating us," cried one of the men, with a curse. "We must go
+and fight."
+
+"What shall we do with these prisoners?"
+
+"Tie them and leave them."
+
+"Have you a rope?"
+
+"No. There is one by the grave."
+
+"Let's take the prisoners there and bind them."
+
+This proposition was accepted; and, seizing the priest and Ethel, the
+four men hurried them back to the grave. The square hole lay there
+just beside them, with the earth by its side. Ethel tried to see into
+it, but was not near enough to do so. One of the men found the rope,
+and began in great haste to bind the arms of the priest behind him.
+Another began to bind Ethel in the same way.
+
+But now there came loud cries, and the rush of men near them. A loud,
+stern voice was encouraging the men.
+
+"On! on!" he cried. "Follow me! We'll drive them back!"
+
+Saying this, a man hurried on, followed by a score of brigands.
+
+It was Girasole.
+
+He had been guarding the woods at this side when he had seen the rush
+that had been made farther up. He had seen his men driven in, and was
+now hurrying up to the place to retrieve the battle. As he was running
+on he came up to the party at the grave.
+
+He stopped.
+
+"What's this?" he cried.
+
+"The prisoners--we were securing them."
+
+It was now lighter than it had been, and dawn was not far off. The
+features of Girasole were plainly distinguishable. They were convulsed
+with the most furious passion, which was not caused so much by the
+rage of conflict as by the sight of the prisoners. He had suspected
+treachery on their part, and had spared them for a time only so as to
+see whether his suspicions were true or not. But now this sudden
+assault by night, conducted so skillfully, and by such a powerful
+force, pointed clearly to treachery, as he saw it, and the ones who to
+him seemed most prominent in guilt were the priest and Ethel.
+
+His suspicions were quite reasonable under the circumstances. Here was
+a priest whom he regarded as his natural enemy. These brigands
+identified themselves with republicans and Garibaldians whenever it
+suited their purposes to do so, and consequently, as such, they were
+under the condemnation of the Pope; and any priest might think he was
+doing the Pope good service by betraying those who were his enemies.
+As to this priest, every thing was against him. He lived close by;
+every step of the country was no doubt familiar to him; he had come to
+the camp under very suspicious circumstances, bringing with him a
+stranger in disguise. He had given plausible answers to the
+cross-questioning of Girasole; but those were empty words, which went
+for nothing in the presence of the living facts that now stood before
+him in the presence of the enemy.
+
+These thoughts had all occurred to Girasole, and the sight of the two
+prisoners kindled his rage to madness. It was the deadliest purpose of
+vengeance that gleamed in his eyes as he looked upon them, and they
+knew it. He gave one glance, and then turned to his men.
+
+"On! on!" he cried; "I will join you in an instant; and you," he said
+to the guards, "wait a moment."
+
+The brigands rushed on with shouts to assist their comrades in the
+fight, while the other four waited.
+
+All this time the fight had not ceased. The air was filled with the
+reports of rifle-shots, the shouts of men, the yells of the wounded.
+The flashes seemed to be gradually drawing nearer, as though the
+assailants were still driving the brigands. But their progress was
+slow, for the fighting was carried on among the trees, and the
+brigands resisted stubbornly, retreating from cover to cover, and
+stopping every moment to make a fresh stand. But the assailants had
+gained much ground, and were already close by the borders of the lake,
+and advancing along toward the old stone house.
+
+The robbers had not succeeded in binding their prisoners. The priest
+and Ethel both stood where they had encountered Girasole, and the
+ropes fell from the robbers' hands at the new interruption. The grave
+with its mound was only a few feet away.
+
+Girasole had a pistol in his left hand and a sword in his right. He
+sheathed his sword and drew another pistol, keeping his eyes fixed
+steadily all the while upon his victims.
+
+"You needn't bind these prisoners," said Girasole, grimly; "I know a
+better way to secure them."
+
+"In the name of God," cried the priest, "I implore you not to shed
+innocent blood!"
+
+"Pooh!" said Girasole.
+
+"This lady is innocent; you will at least spare her!"
+
+"She shall die first!" said Girasole, in a fury, and reached out his
+hand to grasp Ethel. The priest flung himself forward between the two.
+Girasole dashed him aside.
+
+"Give us time to pray, for God's sake--one moment to pray!"
+
+"Not a moment!" cried Girasole, grasping at Ethel.
+
+Ethel gave a loud shriek and started away in horror. Girasole sprang
+after her. The four men turned to seize her. With a wild and frantic
+energy, inspired by the deadly terror that was in her heart, she
+bounded away toward the grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+BURIED ALIVE.
+
+
+Hawbury last vanished from the scene to a place which is but seldom
+resorted to by a living man. Once inside of his terrible retreat he
+became a prey to feelings of the most varied and harrowing character,
+in the midst of which there was a suspense, twofold, agonizing, and
+intolerable. First of all, his suspense was for Ethel, and then for
+himself. In that narrow and restricted retreat his senses soon became
+sharpened to an unusual degree of acuteness. Every touch against it
+communicated itself to his frame, as though the wood of his inclosure
+had become part of himself; and every sound intensified itself to an
+extraordinary degree of distinctness, as though the temporary loss of
+vision had been compensated for by an exaggeration of the sense of
+hearing. This was particularly the case as the priest drove in the
+screws. He heard the shuffle on the stairs, the whisper to Ethel, her
+retreat, and the ascending footsteps; while at the same time he was
+aware of the unalterable coolness of the priest, who kept calmly at
+his work until the very last moment. The screws seemed to enter his
+own frame, and the slight noise which was made, inaudible as it was to
+others, to him seemed loud enough to rouse all in the house.
+
+Then he felt himself raised and carried down stairs. Fortunately he
+had got in with his feet toward the door, and as that end was carried
+out first, his descent of the stairs was not attended with the
+inconvenience which he might have felt had it been taken down in an
+opposite direction.
+
+One fact gave him very great relief, for he had feared that his
+breathing would be difficult. Thanks, however, to the precautions of
+the priest, he felt no difficulty at all in that respect. The little
+bits of wood which prevented the lid from resting close to the coffin
+formed apertures which freely admitted all the air that was necessary.
+
+He was borne on thus from the house toward the grave, and heard the
+voice of the priest from time to time, and rightly supposed that the
+remarks of the priest were addressed not so much to the brigands as to
+himself, so as to let him know that he was not deserted. The journey
+to the grave was accomplished without any inconvenience, and the
+coffin was at length put upon the ground.
+
+Then it was lowered into the grave.
+
+There was something in this which was so horrible to Hawbury that an
+involuntary shudder passed through every nerve, and all the terror of
+the grave and the bitterness of death in that one moment seemed to
+descend upon him. He had not thought of this, and consequently was not
+prepared for it. He had expected that he would be put down somewhere
+on the ground, and that the priest would be able to get rid of the
+men, and effect his liberation before it had gone so far.
+
+It required an effort to prevent himself from crying out; and longer
+efforts were needed and more time before he could regain any portion
+of his self-control. He now heard the priest performing the burial
+rites; these seemed to him to be protracted to an amazing length; and
+so, indeed, they were; but to the inmate of that grave the time seemed
+longer far than it did to those who were outside. A thousand thoughts
+swept through his mind, and a thousand fears swelled within his heart.
+At last the suspicion came to him that the priest himself was unable
+to do any better, and this suspicion was confirmed as he detected the
+efforts which he made to get the men to leave the grave. This was
+particularly evident when he pretended to hear an alarm, by which he
+hoped to get rid of the brigands. It failed, however, and with this
+failure the hopes of Hawbury sank lower than ever.
+
+But the climax of his horror was attained as the first clod fell upon
+his narrow abode. It seemed like a death-blow. He felt it as if it had
+struck himself, and for a moment it was as though he had been stunned.
+The dull, heavy sound which those heard who stood above, to his ears
+became transformed and enlarged, and extended to something like a
+thunder-peal, with long reverberations through his now fevered and
+distempered brain. Other clods fell, and still others, and the work
+went on till his brain reeled, and under the mighty emotions of the
+hour his reason began to give way. Then all his fortitude and courage
+sank. All thought left him save the consciousness of the one horror
+that had now fixed itself upon his soul. It was intolerable. In
+another moment his despair would have overmastered him, and under its
+impulse he would have burst through all restraint, and turned all his
+energies toward forcing himself from his awful prison house.
+
+He turned himself over. He gathered himself up as well as he could.
+Already he was bracing himself for a mighty effort to burst up the
+lid, when suddenly the voice of Girasole struck upon his ear, and a
+wild fear for Ethel came to his heart, and the anguish of that fear
+checked at once all further thought of himself.
+
+He lay still and listened. He did this the more patiently as the men
+also stopped from their work, and as the hideous earth-clods no longer
+fell down. He listened. From the conversation he gathered pretty
+accurately the state of affairs. He knew that Ethel was there; that
+she had been discovered and dragged forth; that she was in danger. He
+listened in the anguish of a new suspense. He heard the words of the
+priest, his calm denial of treachery, his quiet appeal to Girasole's
+good sense. Then he heard the decision of Girasole, and the party
+walked away with their prisoners, and he was left alone.
+
+Alone!
+
+At any other time it would have been a terrible thing thus to be left
+alone in such a place, but now to him who was thus imprisoned it
+afforded a great relief. The work of burial, with all its hideous
+accompaniments, was stayed. He could collect his senses and make up
+his mind as to what he should do.
+
+Now, first of all, he determined to gain more air if possible. The
+earth that had fallen had covered up many of the chinks, so that his
+breathing had become sensibly more difficult. His confinement, with
+this oppression of his breathing, was intolerable. He therefore braced
+himself once more to make an effort. The coffin was large and rudely
+constructed, being merely an oblong box. He had more play to his
+limbs than he could have had in one of a more regular construction,
+and thus he was able to bring a great effort to bear upon the lid. He
+pressed. The screws gave way. He lifted it up to some distance. He
+drew in a long draught of fresh air, and felt in that one draught that
+he received new life and strength and hope.
+
+He now lay still and thought about what he should do next. If it had
+only been himself, he would, of course, have escaped in that first
+instant, and fled to the woods. But the thought of Ethel detained him.
+
+What was her position; and what could he do to save her? This was his
+thought.
+
+He knew that she, together with the priest, was in the hands of four
+of the brigands, who were commanded to keep their prisoners safe at
+the peril of their lives. Where they were he did not know, nor could
+he tell whether she was near or at a distance. Girasole had led them
+away.
+
+[Illustration:
+"IN AN INSTANT THE OCCUPANT OF THE GRAVE SPRANG FORTH."]
+
+He determined to look out and watch. He perceived that this grave, in
+the heart of the brigands' camp, afforded the very safest place in
+which he could be for the purpose of watching. Girasole's words had
+indicated that the work of burial would not be resumed that night, and
+if any passers-by should come they would avoid such a place as this.
+Here, then, he could stay until dawn at least, and watch unobserved.
+Perhaps he could find where Ethel was guarded; perhaps he could do
+something to distract the attention of the brigands, and afford her an
+opportunity for flight.
+
+He now arose, and, kneeling in the coffin, he raised the lid. The
+earth that was upon it fell down inside. He tilted the lid up, and
+holding it up thus with one hand, he put his head carefully out of the
+grave, and looked out in the direction where Girasole had gone with
+his prisoners. The knoll to which he had led them was a very
+conspicuous place, and had probably been selected for that reason,
+since it could be under his own observation, from time to time, even
+at a distance. It was about half-way between the grave and the nearest
+fire, which fire, though low, still gave forth some light, and the
+light was in a line with the knoll to Hawbury's eyes. The party on the
+knoll, therefore, appeared thrown out into relief by the faint
+fire-light behind them, especially the priest and Ethel.
+
+And now Hawbury kept his watch, and looked and listened and waited,
+ever mindful of his own immediate neighborhood, and guarding carefully
+against any approach. But his own place was in gloom, and no one would
+have thought of looking there, so that he was unobserved.
+
+But all his watching gave him no assistance toward finding out any way
+of rescuing Ethel. He saw the vigilant guard around the prisoners.
+Once or twice he saw a movement among them, but it was soon over, and
+resulted in nothing. Now he began to despond, and to speculate in his
+mind as to whether Ethel was in any danger or not. He began to
+calculate the time that might be required to go for help with which to
+attack the brigands. He wondered what reason Girasole might have to
+injure Ethel. But whatever hope he had that mercy might be shown her
+was counterbalanced by his own experience of Girasole's cruelty, and
+his knowledge of his merciless character.
+
+Suddenly he was roused by the rifle-shot and the confusion that
+followed. He saw the party on the mound start to their feet. He heard
+the shots that succeeded the first one. He saw shadows darting to and
+fro. Then the confusion grew worse, and all the sounds of battle
+arose--the cries, the shrieks, and the stern words of command.
+
+All this filled him with hope. An attack was being made. They might
+all be saved. He could see that the brigands were being driven back,
+and that the assailants were pressing on.
+
+Then he saw the party moving from the knoll. It was already much
+lighter. They advanced toward him. He sank down and waited. He had no
+fear now that this party would complete his burial. He thought they
+were flying with the prisoners. If so, the assailants would soon be
+here; he could join them, and lead them on to the rescue of Ethel.
+
+He lay low with the lid over him. He heard them close beside him. Then
+there was the noise of rushing men, and Girasole's voice arose.
+
+He heard all that followed.
+
+Then Ethel's shriek sounded out, as she sprang toward the grave.
+
+In an instant the occupant of the grave, seizing the lid, raised it
+up, and with a wild yell sprang forth.
+
+The effect was tremendous.
+
+The brigands thought the dead Antonio had come to life. They did not
+stop to look, but with a howl of awful terror, and in an anguish of
+fright, they turned and ran for their lives!
+
+Girasole saw him too, with equal horror, if not greater. He saw
+Hawbury. It was the man whom he had killed stone-dead with his own
+hand. He was there before him--or was it his ghost? For an instant
+horror paralyzed him; and then, with a yell like a madman's, he leaped
+back and fled after the others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+FLY! FLY!
+
+
+In the midst of that wild uproar which had roused Dacres and Mrs.
+Willoughby there was nothing that startled him so much as her
+declaration that she was not Arethusa. He stood bewildered. While she
+was listening to the sounds, he was listening to the echo of her
+words; while she was wondering at the cause of such a tumult, he was
+wondering at this disclosure. In a moment a thousand little things
+suggested themselves as he stood there in his confusion, which little
+things all went to throw a flood of light upon her statement, and
+prove that she was another person than that "demon wife" who had been
+the cause of all his woes. Her soft glance, her gentle manner, her
+sweet and tender expression--above all, the tone of her voice; all
+these at once opened his eyes. In the course of their conversation she
+had spoken in a low tone, often in a whisper, so that this fact with
+regard to the difference of voice had not been perceptible; but her
+last words were spoken louder, and he observed the difference.
+
+Now the tumult grew greater, and the reports of the rifles more
+frequent. The noise was communicated to the house, and in the rooms
+and the hall below there were tramplings of feet, and hurryings to and
+fro, and the rattle of arms, and the voices of men, in the midst of
+which rose the stern command of Girasole.
+
+"Forward! Follow me!"
+
+Then the distant reports grew nearer and yet nearer, and all the men
+rushed from the house, and their tramp was heard outside as they
+hurried away to the scene of conflict.
+
+"It's an attack! The brigands are attacked!" cried Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+Dacres said nothing. He was collecting his scattered thoughts.
+
+"Oh, may Heaven grant that we may be saved! Oh, it is the troops--it
+must be! Oh, Sir, come, come; help us to escape! My darling sister is
+here. Save her!"
+
+"Your sister?" cried Dacres.
+
+"Oh yes; come, save her! My sister--my darling Minnie!"
+
+With these words Mrs. Willoughby rushed from the room.
+
+"Her sister! her sister!" repeated Dacres--"Minnie Fay! _Her_ sister!
+Good Lord! What a most infernal ass I've been making of myself this
+last month!"
+
+He stood still for a few moments, overwhelmed by this thought, and
+apparently endeavoring to realize the full extent and enormous size
+and immense proportions, together with the infinite extent of ear,
+appertaining to the ass to which he had transformed himself; but
+finally he shook his head despondingly, as though he gave it up
+altogether. Then he hurried after Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby rushed into Minnie's room, and clasped her sister in
+her arms with frantic tears and kisses.
+
+"Oh, my precious darling!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Minnie, "isn't this really too bad? I was _so_ tired,
+you know, and I was just beginning to go to sleep, when those horrid
+men began firing their guns. I really do think that every body is
+banded together to tease me. I do _wish_ they'd all go away and let me
+have a little peace. I am so tired and sleepy!"
+
+While Minnie was saying this her sister was embracing her and kissing
+her and crying over her.
+
+"Oh, come, Minnie, come!" she cried; "make haste. We must fly!"
+
+"Where to?" said Minnie, wonderingly.
+
+"Any where--any where out of this awful place: into the woods."
+
+"Why, I don't see the use of going into the woods. It's all wet, you
+know. Can't we get a carriage?"
+
+"Oh no, no; we must not wait. They'll all be back soon and kill us."
+
+"Kill us! What for?" cried Minnie. "What do you mean? How silly you
+are, Kitty darling!"
+
+At this moment Dacres entered. The image of the immeasurable ass was
+still very prominent in his mind, and he had lost all his fever and
+delirium. One thought only remained (besides that of the ass, of
+course), and that was--escape.
+
+"Are you ready?" he asked, hurriedly.
+
+"Oh yes, yes; let us make haste," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I think no one is below," said he; "but I will go first. There is a
+good place close by. We will run there. If I fall, you must run on and
+try to get there. It is the bank just opposite. Once there, you are in
+the woods. Do you understand?"
+
+"Oh yes, yes!" cried Mrs. Willoughby. "Haste! Oh, haste!"
+
+Dacres turned, and Mrs. Willoughby had just grasped Minnie's hand to
+follow, when suddenly they heard footsteps below.
+
+They stopped, appalled.
+
+The robbers had not all gone, then. Some of them must have remained on
+guard. But how many?
+
+Dacres listened and the ladies listened, and in their suspense the
+beating of each heart was audible. The footsteps below could be heard
+going from room to room, and pausing in each.
+
+"There seems to be only one man," said Dacres, in a whisper. "If there
+is only one, I'll engage to manage him. While I grapple, you run for
+your lives. Remember the bank."
+
+"Oh yes; but oh, Sir, there may be more," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"I'll see," said Dacres, softly.
+
+He went cautiously to the front window and looked out. By the
+increased light he could see quite plainly. No men were visible. From
+afar the noise of the strife came to his ears louder than ever, and he
+could see the flashes of the rifles.
+
+Dacres stole back again from the window and went to the door. He stood
+and listened.
+
+And now the footsteps came across the hall to the foot of the stairs.
+Dacres could see the figure of a solitary man, but it was dark in the
+hall, and he could not make him out.
+
+He began to think that there was only one enemy to encounter.
+
+The man below put his foot on the lowest stair.
+
+Then he hesitated.
+
+Dacres stood in the shadow of the other doorway, which was nearer to
+the head of the stairs, and prepared to spring as soon as the stranger
+should come within reach. But the stranger delayed still.
+
+At length he spoke:
+
+"Hallo, up there!"
+
+The sound of those simple words produced an amazing effect upon the
+hearers. Dacres sprang down with a cry of joy. "Come, come!" he
+shouted to the ladies; "friends are here!" And running down the
+stairs, he reached the bottom and grasped the stranger by both arms.
+
+In the dim light he could detect a tall, slim, sinewy form, with long,
+black, ragged hair and white neck-tie.
+
+"You'd best get out of this, and quick, too," said the Rev. Saul
+Tozer. "They're all off now, but they'll be back here in less than no
+time. I jest thought I'd look in to see if any of you folks was
+around."
+
+By this time the ladies were both at the bottom of the stairs.
+
+"Come!" said Tozer; "hurry up, folks. I'll take one lady and you take
+t'other."
+
+"Do you know the woods?"
+
+"Like a book."
+
+"So do I," said Dacres.
+
+He grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand and started.
+
+"But Minnie!" said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+"You had better let him take her; it's safer for all of us," said
+Dacres.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked back as she was dragged on after Dacres, and
+saw Tozer following them, holding Minnie's hand. This reassured her.
+
+Dacres dragged her on to the foot of the bank. Here she tried to keep
+up with him, but it was steep, and she could not.
+
+Whereupon Dacres stopped, and, without a word, raised her in his arms
+as though she were a little child, and ran up the bank. He plunged
+into the woods. Then he ran on farther. Then he turned and doubled.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby begged him to put her down.
+
+"No," said he; "they are behind us. You can not go fast enough. I
+should have to wait and defend you, and then we would both be lost."
+
+"But, oh! we are losing Minnie."
+
+"No, we are not," cried Dacres; "that man is ten times stronger than I
+am. He is a perfect elephant in strength. He dashed past me up the
+hill."
+
+"I didn't see him."
+
+"Your face was turned the other way. He is ahead of us now somewhere."
+
+"Oh, I wish we _could_ catch up to him."
+
+[Illustration: "AT THIS DACRES RUSHED ON FASTER."]
+
+At this Dacres rushed on faster. The effort was tremendous. He leaped
+over fallen timbers, he burst through the underbrush.
+
+"Oh, I'm sure you'll _kill_ yourself if you go so fast," said Mrs.
+Willoughby. "We can't catch up to them."
+
+At this Dacres slackened his pace, and went on more carefully. She
+again begged him to put her down. He again refused. Upon this she felt
+perfectly helpless, and recalled, in a vague way, Minnie's ridiculous
+question of "How would you like to be run away with by a great, big,
+horrid man, Kitty darling?"
+
+Then she began to think he was insane, and felt very anxious.
+
+At last Dacres stopped. He was utterly exhausted. He was panting
+terribly. It had been a fearful journey. He had run along the bank up
+to that narrow valley which he had traversed the day before, and when
+he stopped it was on the top of that precipice where he had formerly
+rested, and where he had nurtured such dark purposes against Mrs.
+Willoughby.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked at him, full of pity. He was utterly broken
+down by this last effort.
+
+"Oh dear!" she thought. "Is he sane or insane? What _am_ I to do? It
+is dreadful to have to go on and humor his queer fancies."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+MINNIE'S LAST LIFE-PRESERVER.
+
+
+When Tozer started after Dacres he led Minnie by the hand for only a
+little distance. On reaching the acclivity he seized her in his arms,
+thus imitating Dacres's example, and rushed up, reaching the top
+before the other. Then he plunged into the woods, and soon became
+separated from his companion.
+
+Once in the woods, he went along quite leisurely, carrying Minnie
+without any difficulty, and occasionally addressing to her a soothing
+remark, assuring her that she was safe. Minnie, however, made no
+remark of any kind, good or bad, but remained quite silent, occupied
+with her own thoughts. At length Tozer stopped and put her down. It
+was a place upon the edge of a cliff on the shore of the lake, and as
+much as a mile from the house. The cliff was almost fifty feet high,
+and was perpendicular. All around was the thick forest, and it was
+unlikely that such a place could be discovered.
+
+[Illustration: "'WORSE AND WORSE,' SAID TOZER."]
+
+"Here," said he; "we've got to stop here, and it's about the right
+place. We couldn't get any where nigh to the soldiers without the
+brigands seeing us; so we'll wait here till the fight's over, and the
+brigands all chased off."
+
+"The soldiers! what soldiers?" asked Minnie.
+
+"Why, they're having a fight over there--the soldiers are attacking
+the brigands."
+
+"Well, I didn't know. Nobody told me. And did you come with the
+soldiers?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. I came with the priest and the young lady."
+
+"But you were not at the house?"
+
+"No. They wouldn't take me all the way. The priest said I couldn't be
+disguised--but I don't see why not--so he left me in the woods till he
+came back. And then the soldiers came, and we crept on till we came
+nigh the lake. Well, then I stole away; and when they made an attack
+the brigands all ran there to fight, and I watched till I saw the
+coast clear; and so I came, and here we are."
+
+Minnie now was quite silent and preoccupied, and occasionally she
+glanced sadly at Tozer with her large, pathetic, child-like eyes. It
+was a very piteous look, full of the most tender entreaty. Tozer
+occasionally glanced at her, and then, like her, he sat silent,
+involved in his own thoughts.
+
+"And so," said Minnie at last, "you're not the priest himself?"
+
+"The priest?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, no; I don't call myself a priest. I'm a minister of the
+Gospel."
+
+"Well, you're not a _real_ priest, then."
+
+"All men of my calling are real priests--yes, priests and kings. I
+yield to no man in the estimate which I set upon my high and holy
+calling."
+
+"Oh, but I mean a Roman Catholic priest," said Minnie.
+
+"A Roman Catholic priest! Me! Why, what a question! Me! a Roman
+Catholic! Why, in our parts folks call me the Protestant Champion."
+
+"Oh, and so you're only a Protestant, after all," said Minnie, in a
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Only a Protestant!" repeated Tozer, severely--"_only_ a Protestant.
+Why, ain't you one yourself?"
+
+"Oh yes; but I hoped you were the other priest, you know. I did _so_
+want to have a Roman Catholic priest this time."
+
+Tozer was silent. It struck him that this young lady was in danger.
+Her wish for a Roman Catholic priest boded no good. She had just come
+from Rome. No doubt she had been tampered with. Some Jesuits had
+caught her, and had tried to proselytize her. His soul swelled with
+indignation at the thought.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Minnie again.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Tozer, in a sympathizing voice.
+
+"I'm so sorry."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Why, that you saved my life, you know."
+
+"Sorry? sorry? that I saved your life?" repeated Tozer, in amazement.
+
+"Oh, well, you know, I did so want to be saved by a Roman Catholic
+priest, you know."
+
+"To be saved by a Roman Catholic priest!" repeated Tozer, pondering
+these words in his mind as he slowly pronounced them. He could make
+nothing of them at first, but finally concluded that they concealed
+some half-suggested tendency to Rome.
+
+"I don't like this--I don't like this," he said, solemnly.
+
+"What don't you like?"
+
+"It's dangerous. It looks bad," said Tozer, with increased solemnity.
+
+"What's dangerous? You look so solemn that you really make me feel
+quite nervous. What's dangerous?"
+
+"Why, your words. I see in you, I think, a kind of leaning toward
+Rome."
+
+"It isn't Rome," said Minnie. "I don't lean to Rome. I only lean a
+little toward a Roman Catholic priest."
+
+"Worse and worse," said Tozer. "Dear! dear! dear! worse _and_ worse.
+This beats all. Young woman, beware! But perhaps I don't understand
+you. You surely don't mean that your affections are engaged to any
+Roman Catholic priest. You can't mean _that_. Why, they can't marry."
+
+"But that's just what I like them so for," said Minnie. "I like people
+that don't marry; I hate people that want to marry."
+
+Tozer turned this over in his mind, but could make nothing of it. At
+length he thought he saw in this an additional proof that she had been
+tampered with by Jesuits at Rome. He thought he saw in this a
+statement of her belief in the Roman Catholic doctrine of celibacy.
+
+He shook his head more solemnly than ever. "It's not Gospel," said he.
+"It's mere human tradition. Why, for centuries there was a married
+priesthood even in the Latin Church. Dunstan's chief measures
+consisted in a fierce war on the married clergy. So did
+Hildebrand's--Gregory the Seventh, you know. The Church at Milan,
+sustained by the doctrines of the great Ambrose, always preferred a
+married clergy. The worst measures of Hildebrand were against these
+good pastors and their wives. And in the Eastern Church they have
+always had it."
+
+Of course all this was quite beyond Minnie; so she gave a little sigh,
+and said nothing.
+
+"Now as to Rome," resumed Tozer. "Have you ever given a careful study
+to the Apocalypse--not a hasty reading, as people generally do, but a
+serious, earnest, and careful examination?"
+
+"I'm sure I haven't any idea what in the world you're talking about,"
+said Minnie. "I _wish_ you wouldn't talk so. I don't understand one
+single word of what you say."
+
+Tozer started and stared at this. It was a depth of ignorance that
+transcended that of the other young lady with whom he had conversed.
+But he attributed it all to "Roman" influences. They dreaded the
+Apocalypse, and had not allowed either of these young ladies to become
+acquainted with its tremendous pages. Moreover, there was something
+else. There was a certain light and trifling tone which she used in
+referring to these things, and it pained him. He sat involved in a
+long and very serious consideration of her case, and once or twice
+looked at her with so very peculiar an expression that Minnie began to
+feel very uneasy indeed.
+
+Tozer at length cleared his throat, and fixed upon Minnie a very
+affectionate and tender look.
+
+"My dear young friend," said he, "have you ever reflected upon the way
+you are living?"
+
+At this Minnie gave him a frightened little look, and her head fell.
+
+"You are young now, but you can't be young always; youth and beauty
+and loveliness all are yours, but they can't last; and now is the time
+for you to make your choice--now in life's gay morn. It ain't easy
+when you get old. Remember that, my dear. Make your choice now--now."
+
+"Oh dear!" said Minnie; "I knew it. But I can't--and I don't want
+to--and I think it's _very_ unkind in you. I don't want to make _any_
+choice. I don't want any of you. It's _so_ horrid."
+
+This was a dreadful shock to Tozer; but he could not turn aside from
+this beautiful yet erring creature.
+
+"Oh, I entreat you--I implore you, my dear, _dear_--"
+
+"I do _wish_ you wouldn't talk to me that way, and call me your
+_dear_. I don't like it; no, not even if you _did_ save my life,
+though really I didn't know there was any danger. But I'm not _your_
+dear."
+
+And Minnie tossed her head with a little air of determination, as
+though she had quite made up her mind on that point.
+
+"Oh, well now, really now," said Tozer, "it was only a natural
+expression. I _do_ take a deep interest in you, my--that is--miss; I
+feel a sincere regard and affection and--"
+
+"But it's no use," said Minnie. "You really _can't,_ you know; and so,
+why, you _mustn't_, you know."
+
+Tozer did not clearly understand this, so after a brief pause he
+resumed:
+
+"But what I was saying is of far more importance. I referred to your
+life. Now you're not happy as you are."
+
+"Oh yes, but I am," said Minnie, briskly.
+
+Tozer sighed.
+
+"I'm _very_ happy," continued Minnie, "very, very happy--that is, when
+I'm with dear, darling Kitty, and dear, dear Ethel, and my darling old
+Dowdy, and dear, kind papa."
+
+Tozer sighed again.
+
+"You can't be _truly_ happy thus," he said, mournfully. "You may think
+you are, but you _ain't_. My heart fairly yearns over you when I see
+you, so young, so lovely, and so innocent; and I know you can't be
+happy as you are. You must live otherwise. And oh, I pray you--I
+entreat you to set your affections elsewhere!"
+
+"Well, then, I think it's very, very horrid in you to press me so,"
+said, Minnie, with something actually like asperity in her tone; "but
+it's _quite_ impossible."
+
+"But oh, why?"
+
+"Why, because I don't want to have things any different. But if I have
+to be worried and teased so, and if people insist on it so, why,
+there's only one that I'll _ever_ consent to."
+
+"And what is that?" asked Tozer, looking at her with the most
+affectionate solicitude.
+
+"Why, it's--it's--" Minnie paused, and looked a little confused.
+
+"It's what?" asked Tozer, with still deeper and more anxious interest.
+
+"Why, it's--it's--Rufus K. Gunn."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE IMPATIENT BARON.
+
+
+The brigands had resisted stubbornly, but finally found themselves
+without a leader. Girasole had disappeared; and as his voice no longer
+directed their movements, they began to fall into confusion. The
+attacking party, on the other hand, was well led, and made a steady
+advance, driving the enemy before them. At length the brigands lost
+heart, and took to flight. With a wild cheer the assailants followed
+in pursuit. But the fugitives took to the forest, and were soon beyond
+the reach of their pursuers in its familiar intricacies, and the
+victors were summoned back by the sound of the trumpet.
+
+[Illustration: "THE DISCOVERY OF A BODY ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE."]
+
+It was now daylight, and as the conquering party emerged from the
+forest they showed the uniform of the Papal Zouaves; while their
+leader, who had shown himself so skillful in forest warfare, proved to
+be no less a personage than our friend the Baron. Led by him, the
+party advanced to the old stone house, and here, drawing up his men in
+front, their leader rushed in, and searched every room. To his
+amazement, he found the house deserted, its only inmate being that
+dead brigand whom Girasole had mistaken for Hawbury. This discovery
+filled the Baron with consternation. He had expected to find the
+prisoners here, and his dismay and grief were excessive. At first he
+could not believe in his ill luck; but another search convinced him of
+it, and reduced him to a state of perfect bewilderment.
+
+But he was not one who could long remain inactive. Feeling confident
+that the brigands were scattered every where in headlong flight, he
+sent his men out in different directions, into the woods and along the
+shore, to see if they could find any traces of the lost ones. He
+himself remained near the house, so as to direct the search most
+efficiently. After about an hour they came back, one by one, without
+being able to find many traces. One had found an empty coffin in a
+grave, another a woman's hood, a third had found a scarf. All of these
+had endeavored to follow up these traces, but without result. Finally
+a man approached who announced the discovery of a body on the shore of
+the lake. After him came a party who was carrying the corpse for the
+inspection of their captain.
+
+The Baron went to look at it. The body showed a great gap in the
+skull. On questioning the men, he learned that they had found it on
+the shore, at the bottom of a steep rock, about half-way between the
+house and the place where they had first emerged from the woods. His
+head was lying pressed against a sharp rock in such a way that it was
+evident that he had fallen over the cliff, and had been instantly
+killed. The Baron looked at the face, and recognized the features of
+Girasole. He ordered it to be taken away and laid in the empty grave
+for future burial.
+
+The Baron now became impatient. This was not what he had bargained for
+at all. At length he thought that they might have fled, and might now
+be concealed in the woods around; and together with this thought there
+came to his mind an idea of an effective way to reach them. The
+trumpeter could send forth a blast which could be heard far and wide.
+But what might, could, would, or should the trumpeter sound forth
+which should give the concealed listeners a certainty that the summons
+came from friends and not from foes? This the Baron puzzled over for
+some time. At length he solved this problem also, and triumphantly.
+
+There was one strain which the trumpeter might sound that could not be
+mistaken. It would at once convey to the concealed hearers all the
+truth, and gently woo them home. It would be at once a note of
+victory, a song of joy, a call of love, a sound of peace, and an
+invitation--"Wanderer, come home!"
+
+Of course there was only one tune that, to the mind of the Baron, was
+capable of doing this.
+
+And of course that tune was "Yankee Doodle."
+
+Did the trumpeter know it?
+
+Of course he did.
+
+Who does not know it?
+
+All men know that tune. Man is born with an innate knowledge of the
+strain of "Yankee Doodle." No one can remember when he first learned
+it. The reason is because he never learned it at all. It was born in
+him.
+
+So the trumpeter sounded it forth, and wild and high and clear and far
+the sounds arose; and it was "Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes
+flying; and answer, echoes, answer, Yankee Doodle dying."
+
+And while the trumpet sounded the Baron listened and listened, and
+walked up and down, and fretted and fumed and chafed, and I'm afraid
+he swore a little too; and at last he was going to tell the trumpeter
+to stop his infernal noise, when, just at that moment, what should he
+see all of a sudden emerging from the woods but three figures!
+
+And I'll leave you to imagine, if you can, the joy and delight which
+agitated the bosom of our good Baron as he recognized among these
+three figures the well-known face and form of his friend Hawbury. With
+Hawbury was a lady whom the Baron remembered having seen once in the
+upper hall of a certain house in Rome, on a memorable occasion, when
+he stood on the stairs calling _Min_. The lady was very austere then,
+but she was very gracious now, and very wonderfully sweet in the
+expression of her face. And with them was a stranger in the garb of a
+priest.
+
+Now as soon as the party met the Baron, who rushed to meet them,
+Hawbury wrung his hand, and stared at him in unbounded astonishment.
+
+"You!" he cried; "yourself, old boy! By Jove!"
+
+"Yes," said the Baron. "You see, the moment we got into that ambush I
+kept my eye open, and got a chance to spring into the woods. There I
+was all right, and ran for it. I got into the road again a couple of
+miles back, got a horse, rode to Civita Castellana, and there I was
+lucky enough to find a company of Zouaves. Well, Sir, we came here
+flying, mind, I tell you, and got hold of a chap that we made guide us
+to the lake. Then we opened on them; and here we are, by thunder! But
+where's Min?"
+
+"Who?" asked Hawbury.
+
+"Min," said the Baron, in the most natural tone in the world.
+
+"Oh! Why, isn't she here?"
+
+"No. We've hunted every where. No one's here at all." And the Baron
+went on to tell about their search and its results. Hawbury was
+chiefly struck by the news of Girasole.
+
+"He must have gone mad with terror," said Hawbury, as he told the
+Baron about his adventure at the grave. "If that's so," he added, "I
+don't see how the ladies could be harmed. I dare say they've run off.
+Why, we started to run, and got so far off that we couldn't find our
+way back, even after the trumpet began to sound. You must keep blowing
+at it, you know. Play all the national tunes you can--no end. They'll
+find their way back if you give them time."
+
+And now they all went back to the house, and the Baron in his anxiety
+could not talk any more, but began his former occupation of walking up
+and down, and fuming and fretting and chafing, and, I'm again afraid,
+swearing--when all of a sudden, on the bank in front of him, on the
+very top, just emerging from the thick underbrush which had concealed
+them till that moment, to their utter amazement and indescribable
+delight, they beheld Scone Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby. Scone Dacres
+appeared to Hawbury to be in a totally different frame of mind from
+that in which he had been when he last saw him; and what perplexed him
+most, yea, and absolutely confounded him, was the sight of Scone
+Dacres with his demon wife, whom he had been pursuing for the sake of
+vengeance, and whose frenzy had been so violent that he himself had
+been drawn with him on purpose to try and restrain him. And now what
+was the injured husband doing with his demon wife? Doing! why, doing
+the impassioned lover most vigorously; sustaining her steps most
+tenderly; grasping her hand; pushing aside the bushes; assisting her
+down the slope; overwhelming her, in short; hovering round her,
+apparently unconscious that there was in all the wide world any other
+being than Mrs. Willoughby. And as Hawbury looked upon all this his
+eyes dilated and his lips parted involuntarily in utter wonder; and
+finally, as Dacres reached the spot, the only greeting which he could
+give his friend was,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+And now, while Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel were embracing with tears of
+joy, and overwhelming one another with questions, the Baron sought
+information from Dacres.
+
+Dacres then informed him all about Tozer's advent and departure.
+
+"Tozer!" cried the Baron, in intense delight. "Good on his darned old
+head! Hurrah for the parson! He shall marry us for this--he, and no
+other, by thunder!"
+
+Upon which Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel exchanged glances, but said not a
+word. Not they.
+
+But in about five minutes, when Mrs. Willoughby had Ethel apart a
+little by herself, she said,
+
+"Oh, Ethel dear, isn't it dreadful?"
+
+"What?" asked Ethel.
+
+"Why, poor Minnie."
+
+"Poor Minnie?"
+
+"Yes. Another horrid man. And he'll be claiming her too. And, oh dear!
+what shall I do?"
+
+"Why, you'll have to let her decide for herself. I think it will
+be--this person."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby clasped her hands, and looked up with a pretty little
+expression of horror.
+
+"And do you know, dear," added Ethel, "I'm beginning to think that it
+wouldn't be so _very_ bad. He's Lord Hawbury's friend, you know, and
+then he's very, very brave; and, above all, think what we all owe
+him."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby gave a resigned sigh.
+
+And now the Baron was wilder with impatience than ever. He had
+questioned Dacres, and found that he could give him no information
+whatever as to Tozer's route, and consequently had no idea where to
+search. But he still had boundless confidence in "Yankee Doodle."
+
+"That's the way," said Dacres; "we heard it ever so far, and it was
+the first thing that told us it was safe to return. We didn't dare to
+venture before."
+
+Meanwhile Hawbury had got Dacres by himself, and poured a torrent of
+questions over him. Dacres told him in general terms how he was
+captured. Then he informed him how Mrs. Willoughby was put in the same
+room, and his discovery that it was Minnie that the Italian wanted.
+
+"Well, do you know, old chap," continued Dacres, "I couldn't stand it;
+so I offered to make it all up with her."
+
+"Oh, I see you've done that, old boy. Congrat--"
+
+"Pooh! wait a minute," said Dacres, interrupting him. "Well, you know,
+she wasn't my wife at all."
+
+At this Hawbury stood utterly aghast.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"She wasn't my wife at all. She looks confoundedly like what my wife
+was at her best, but she's another person. It's a most extraordinary
+likeness; and yet she's isn't any relation, but a great deal prettier
+woman. What made me so sure, you know, was the infernally odd
+coincidence of the name; and then I only saw her off and on, you know,
+and I never heard her voice. Then, you know, I was mad with jealousy;
+and so I made myself worse and worse, till I was ripe for murder,
+arson, assasination, and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+To all this Hawbury listened in amazement, and could not utter a word,
+until at last, as Dacres paused, he said,
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, old man, I was the most infernal ass that ever lived. And how I
+must have bored you!"
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed Hawbury again. "But drive on, old boy."
+
+"Well, you know, the row occurred just then, and away went the
+scoundrels to the fight, and in came that parson fellow, and away we
+went. I took Mrs. Willoughby to a safe place, where I kept her till I
+heard the trumpet, you know. And I've got another thing to tell you.
+It's deuced odd, but she knew all about me."
+
+"The deuce she did!"
+
+"Yes, the whole story. Lived somewhere in the county. But I don't
+remember the Fays. At any rate, she lived there; and do you know, old
+fellow, the county people used to think I beat my wife!"
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Yes; and afterward they raised a report that my cruelty had driven
+her mad. But I had a few friends that stood up for me; and among
+others these Fays, you know, had heard the truth of it, and, as it
+happened, Kitty--"
+
+"Kitty?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Willoughby, I mean--her name's Kitty--has always known the
+truth about it; and when she saw me at Naples she felt interested in
+me."
+
+"Oho!" and Hawbury opened his eyes.
+
+"Well, she knew all about it; and, among other things, she gave me one
+piece of intelligence that has eased my mind."
+
+"Ah! what's that?"
+
+"Why, my wife _is_ dead."
+
+"Oh, then there's no doubt about it?"
+
+"Not a bit. She died eight years ago, and in an insane asylum."
+
+"By Jove! Then she was mad all the time."
+
+"Yes; that accounts for it, and turns all my curses into pity."
+
+Dacres was silent now for a few moments. At length he looked at
+Hawbury with a very singular expression.
+
+"Hawbury, old boy."
+
+"Well, Sconey?"
+
+"I think we'll keep it up."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, Kitty and I--that is, Mrs. Willoughby and I--her name's Kitty,
+you know."
+
+"Keep what up?"
+
+"Why, the--the--the fond illusion, and all that sort of thing. You see
+I've got into such an infernal habit of regarding her as my wife that
+I can't look on her in any other light. I claimed her, you know, and
+all that sort of thing, and she thought I was delirious, and felt
+sorry, and humored me, and gave me a very favorable answer."
+
+"Humored you?"
+
+"Yes; that's what she says now, you know. But I'm holding her to it,
+and I've every reason to believe, you know--in fact, I may as well say
+that it is an understood thing, you know, that she'll let it go, you
+know, and at some early day, you know, we'll have it all formally
+settled, and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+Hawbury wrung his friend's hand.
+
+"See here, old boy; you see Ethel there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who do you think she is?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"_Ethel Orne_!"
+
+"Ethel _Orne_!" cried Dacres, as the whole truth flashed on his mind.
+"What a devil of a jumble every thing has been getting into!--By
+Heaven, dear boy, I congratulate you from the bottom of my soul!"
+
+And he wrung Hawbury's hand as though all his soul was in that grasp.
+
+But all this could not satisfy the impatience of the Baron. This was
+all very well in its way, merely as an episode; but he was waiting for
+the chief incident of the piece, and the chief incident was delaying
+very unaccountably.
+
+So he strode up and down, and he fretted and he fumed and he chafed,
+and the trumpeter kept blowing away.
+
+Until at last--
+
+Just before his eyes--
+
+Up there on the top of the bank, not far from where Dacres and Mrs.
+Willoughby had made their appearance, the Baron caught sight of a
+tall, lank, slim figure, clothed in rusty black, whose thin and
+leathery face, rising above a white neck-tie, peered solemnly yet
+interrogatively through the bushes; while just behind him the Baron
+caught a glimpse of the flutter of a woman's dress.
+
+[Illustration:
+"HE GAVE A LOUD CRY OF JOY, AND THEN SPRANG UP THE BANK."]
+
+He gave a loud cry of joy, and then sprang up the bank.
+
+       *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+But over that meeting I think we had better draw a veil.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+ASTONISHING WAY OF CONCLUDING AN ADVENTURE.
+
+
+The meeting between the Baron and Minnie gave a new shock to poor Mrs.
+Willoughby, who looked with a helpless expression, and walked away for
+a little distance. Dacres and Hawbury were still eagerly conversing
+and questioning one another about their adventures. Tozer also had
+descended and joined himself to the priest; and each of these groups
+had leisure for a prolonged conversation before they were interrupted.
+At length Minnie made her appearance, and flung herself into her
+sister's arms, while at the same time the Baron grasped Tozer by both
+hands, and called out, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all,
+
+"You shall marry us, parson--and this very day, by thunder!"
+
+These words came to Mrs. Willoughby's ears in the midst of her first
+joy at meeting her sister, and shocked her inexpressibly.
+
+"What's that, Minnie darling?" she asked, anxiously. "What is it? Did
+you hear what that dreadful--what the--the Baron said?"
+
+Minnie looked sweetly conscious, but said nothing.
+
+"What _does_ he mean?" asked her sister again.
+
+"I suppose he means what he says," replied Minnie, with a timid air,
+stealing a shy look at the Baron.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Willoughby; "there's another dreadful trouble, I
+know. It's very, very hard--"
+
+"Well, I'm sure," said Minnie, "I can't help it. They all do so. That
+clergyman came and saved me, and he wasn't a Roman Catholic clergyman
+at all, and he proposed--"
+
+"Proposed!" cried Mrs. Willoughby, aghast.
+
+"Oh yes," said Minnie, solemnly; "and I had hard work preventing him.
+But, really, it was _too_ absurd, and I would not let him be too
+explicit. But I didn't hurt his feelings. Well, you know, then all of
+a sudden, as we were sitting there, the bugle sounded, and we came
+back. Well, then, Rufus K. Gunn came--and you know how very violent he
+is in his way--and he said he saved my life again, and so he
+proposed."
+
+"_He_ proposed! Why, he had proposed before."
+
+"Oh yes; but that was for an engagement, and this was for our
+marriage."
+
+"Marriage!"
+
+"Oh yes; and, you see, he had actually saved my life twice, and he was
+very urgent, and he is so awfully affectionate, and so--"
+
+"Well, what?" cried Mrs. Willoughby, seeing Minnie hesitate.
+
+"Why, he--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I mean, I--"
+
+"You what? Really, Minnie dearest, you might tell me, and not keep me
+in such dreadful suspense."
+
+"Why, what could I say?"
+
+"But what _did_ you say?"
+
+"Why, I think I--said--yes," said Minnie, casting down her eyes with
+indescribable sweetness, shyness, meekness, and resignation. Mrs.
+Willoughby actually shuddered.
+
+"Now, Kitty," exclaimed Minnie, who at once noticed it, "you needn't
+be so horrid. I'm sure you can't say any thing against him _now_. You
+needn't look so. You _always_ hated him. You _never_ would treat him
+kindly."
+
+"But this--this marriage. It's too shocking."
+
+"Well, he saved my life."
+
+"And to-day! How utterly preposterous! It's shameful!"
+
+"Well, I'm sure I can't help it."
+
+"It's too horrid!" continued Mrs. Willoughby, in an excited tone. "It
+will break poor papa's heart. And it will break poor darling aunty's
+heart. And it will break my heart."
+
+"Now, Kitty dearest, this is too silly in you. If it hadn't been for
+him, I would now be married to that wretched Count, who hadn't
+sufficient affection for me to get me a chair to sit on, and who was
+very, very rude to you. You didn't care, though, whether I was married
+to him or not; and now when I am saved from him you have nothing but
+very unpleasant things to say about Rufus K. Gunn."
+
+"Oh dear, what _would_ I give if you were only safe home!"
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't see what _I_ can do. People are always saving
+my life. And there is Captain Kirby hunting all over Italy for me. And
+I _know_ I will be saved by somebody--if--if--I--I--if--I--if--you
+know--that is--I'm sure--"
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby, as Minnie broke down in confusion.
+"It is _too_ absurd. I won't talk about it. You are a silly child. Oh,
+how I _do_ wish you were home!"
+
+At this juncture the conversation was interrupted by the Baron.
+
+"It is not my fashion, ma'am," said he, gravely, "to remind another of
+any obligation under which he may be to me; but my claims on Minnie
+have been so opposed by you and the rest of her friends that I have to
+ask you to think of them. Your father knows what my first claims are.
+You yourself, ma'am, know perfectly well what the last claims are
+which I have won to-day."
+
+The Baron spoke calmly, firmly, and with dignity. Mrs. Willoughby
+answered not a word.
+
+"If you think on your position last night, and Minnie's, ma'am,"
+resumed the Baron, "you'll acknowledge, I expect, that it was pretty
+hard lines. What would you have given a few hours ago for a sight of
+my uniform in that old house yonder? If I had come then to save Minnie
+from the clutches of that _I_talian, wouldn't you have given her to me
+with all your heart, and your prayers too? You would, by thunder!
+Think, ma'am, on your sufferings last night, and then answer me."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby involuntarily thought of that night of horror, and
+shuddered, and said nothing.
+
+"Now, ma'am, just listen to this. I find on coming here that this
+Italian had a priest here all ready to marry him and Minnie. If I'd
+been delayed or defeated, Minnie would have been that rascal's wife by
+this time. The priest was here. They would have been married as sure
+as you're born. You, ma'am, would have had to see this poor,
+trembling, broken-hearted, despairing girl torn from your arms, and
+bound by the marriage tie to a ruffian and a scoundrel whom she
+loathed. And now, ma'am, I save her from this. I have my priest too,
+ma'am. He ain't a Roman Catholic, it is true--he's an orthodox
+parson--but, at the same time, I ain't particular. Now I propose to
+avail myself this day of his invaluable services at the earliest hour
+possible; but, at the same time, if Min prefers it, I don't object to
+the priest, for I have a kind of Roman Catholic leaning myself.
+
+"Now you may ask, ma'am," continued the Baron, as Mrs. Willoughby
+continued silent--"you may ask why I'm in such a thundering hurry. My
+answer is, because you fit me off so. You tried to keep me from Min.
+You locked me out of your house. You threatened to hand me over to the
+police (and I'd like to see one of them try it on with me). You said I
+was mad or drunk; and finally you tried to run away. Then you rejected
+my advice, and plunged head-foremost into this fix. Now, in view of
+all this, my position is this--that I can't trust you. I've got Min
+now, and I mean to keep her. If you got hold of her again, I feel it
+would be the last of her. Consequently I ain't going to let her go.
+Not me. Not by a long chalk.
+
+"Finally, ma'am, if you'll allow me, I'll touch upon another point.
+I've thought over your objections to me. It ain't my rank--I'm a
+noble; it ain't money--I'm worth a hundred thousand dollars; it ain't
+my name--for I call myself Atramonte. It must be something in me. I've
+come to the conclusion that it's my general style--my manners and
+customs. Very well. Perhaps they don't come up to your standard. They
+mayn't square with your ideas. Yet, let me inform you, ma'am, there
+are other standards of action and manner and speech than those to
+which you are accustomed, and mine is one of them. Minnie doesn't
+object to that. She knows my heart is all right, and is willing to
+trust herself to me. Consequently I take her, and I mean to make her
+mine this day."
+
+As the Baron paused Mrs. Willoughby began, first of all, to express
+her gratitude, and then to beg him to postpone the marriage. She
+declared that it was an unheard-of thing, that it was shameful, that
+it was shocking, that it was dreadful. She grew very much excited; she
+protested, she entreated. Finally she burst into tears, and appealed
+to Lord Hawbury in the most moving terms. Hawbury listened very
+gravely, with his eyes wandering over to where Ethel was; and Ethel
+caught the expression of his face, and looked quite confused.
+
+"Oh, think, only think," said Mrs. Willoughby, after an eloquent and
+pathetic appeal--"think how the poor child will be talked about!"
+
+"Well, really--ah--'pon my life," said Hawbury, with his eyes still
+wandering over toward Ethel, "I'm sure I don't--ah--share your views
+altogether, Mrs. Willoughby; for--ah--there _are_ times, you know,
+when a fellow finds it very uncommonly desirable--runaway matches, you
+know, and all that sort of thing. And, by Jove! to tell the truth, I
+really admire the idea, by Jove! And really--ah--I'm sure--I wish most
+confoundedly it was the universal fashion, by Jove!"
+
+"But she'll be so talked about. She'll make herself so shockingly
+_conspicuous_."
+
+"Conspicuous? By Jove!" said Hawbury, who seemed struck by the idea.
+At that moment Minnie began talking to her sister, and Hawbury went
+off to Ethel, to whom he began talking in the most earnest manner. The
+two wandered off for some distance, and did not return for a full half
+hour. When they did return Ethel looked somewhat embarrassed, and
+Hawbury was radiant. With this radiance on his face he went up to Mrs.
+Willoughby, leaving Ethel in the background.
+
+"Oh, by-the-way," said he, "you were remarking that your sister would
+be too conspicuous by such a hasty marriage."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Willoughby, anxiously.
+
+"Well, I thought I would tell you that she needn't be so _very_
+conspicuous; for, in fact--that is, you know, Ethel and I--she told
+you, I suppose, about our mistake?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"And I think I've persuaded her to save Minnie from being too
+conspicuous."
+
+Mrs. Willoughby gave Hawbury a look of astonishment and reproach.
+
+"You!" she cried; "and Ethel!"
+
+"Why, I'm sure, we're the very ones you might expect it from. Think
+how infernally we've been humbugged by fate."
+
+"Fate!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "It was all your own fault. She was
+chosen for you."
+
+"Chosen for me? What do you mean?"
+
+"By your mother."
+
+"My mother?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She said one of Biggs's nieces."
+
+"Ethel is that niece."
+
+"The devil!" cried Hawbury. "I beg pardon. By Jove!"
+
+Hawbury, overwhelmed by this, went back to Ethel, and they wandered
+off once more. The Baron had already wandered off with Minnie in
+another direction. Tozer and the priest had gone to survey the house.
+
+Seeing Mrs. Willoughby thus left alone, Dacres drifted up to her. He
+came up silently.
+
+"Kitty," said he, in a low voice, "you seem sad."
+
+By which familiar address it will be seen that Dacres had made some
+progress toward intimacy with her.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby did not seem at all offended at this, but looked up
+with one of her frankest smiles, and the clouds of perplexity passed
+away. She was an exceedingly pretty woman, and she was certainly not
+over twenty-four.
+
+"I'm so worried," she said, plaintively.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Dacres, in a tone of the deepest and
+tenderest sympathy.
+
+"Why, these horrid men; and, what's worse, Lord Hawbury is actually
+encouraging Mr.--the--the Baron; and I'm _so_ worried. Oh dear!"
+
+"But why should you be worried?"
+
+"It's so horrid. It's shocking. It's not to be thought of."
+
+"But why not?" asked Dacres.
+
+"Why, it's--it's so horrid," said Mrs. Willoughby.
+
+Dacres stood looking at her for a long time.
+
+"Kitty," said he at last.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby looked up.
+
+Dacres looked all around. He then took her hand.
+
+"Isn't it too bad," he said, "to let Minnie--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"To let her go through this ordeal alone?"
+
+"Alone!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, looking in wonder at him.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?"
+
+"Couldn't _we_ accompany her?"
+
+Mrs. Willoughby snatched away her hand.
+
+"Are you mad?" she cried. "I do believe the whole world's mad to-day."
+
+"Mad!" cried Dacres. "Yes, I'm mad--insane--raving! Won't you be
+merciful again? Won't you, Kitty? Won't you 'humor' my ravings? Oh,
+do. Oh, Kitty! dear Kitty--!"
+
+"It's positive insanity!"
+
+"Oh, Kitty!"
+
+"You're raving!"
+
+"Won't you 'humor' me--just this once! only this once."
+
+"Hush! there they come," said Mrs. Willoughby, suddenly snatching away
+her hand, which Dacres had somehow got hold of again, and moving a
+little further away from him.
+
+It was the Baron and Minnie who were coming back again, while Hawbury
+and Ethel were seen a little further away.
+
+There they all stood--there, on the spot where they had found the
+crisis of their fortunes; and as they stood there the two clergymen,
+Catholic and Protestant, slowly came out of the house.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+Errors and anomalies noted by transcriber:
+
+  dextrously (both occurrences); cariboo; Guiseppe; assasination
+    [spelling unchanged]
+  It seems con-foundedly odd
+  de-nomination
+    [hyphens in original]
+
+  perfectly cool and lady-like."
+    [missing close quote]
+  "Well, he said--he said, 'Yes, darling'--and--"
+    [missing open quote before "Yes"]
+  I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear--"
+    [missing close quote]
+  "Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you...
+    [missing open quote]
+
+  Potes ne juvare nos [spacing in original]
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN BARON***
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