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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^^J^iPo^^^^T NEW-EAfitE SErtlES i?ic: / 'kSHikdi^ ^ 5v..'^:^H;4S«^i2 v -^ J w POPULAR COPYRIGHTS New Eagle Series PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS , " Carefully Selected Love Stories ^ Note the Authors! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIU There is such a profusion of good books in. this list, that it is an impossibility to urge you to select any particular title or author's work. All that we can &ay is that, any line that contains the complete works of Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Charles Garvicc, Mrs. Harriet Lewis, May Agnes Fleming, Wenona Oilman, Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller, and other writers of the same type, is worthy of your attention, especially when the price has been set at 15 cents the volume. These books range from 256 to 320 pages. They are printed from good type, and are readable from start to finish. If you are looking for clean-cut, honest value, th«m we state most emphatically that you will find it in this line. ALL TSfteS ALWAYS IN PRINT i' -f.y. 1 — Queen Bess c By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 2 — Ruby's Reward By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 7 — Two Kej^s ■ By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 9 — The Virginia Heiress.,,, By May Agnes Fleming 12 — Edrie's Legacy Bjj^ Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 17 — Leslie's Loyalty ...«••«,. .a. ••• By Charles Garvice (His Love So True) 22 — Elaine «, ^.*,....By Charles Garvice 24 — A Wasted Love »•••«•«•«.. By Charles Garvice (On Love's Altar) i 41— Her H«art's Desire ..m» By Charles Garvice (An Innocent Girl) 44 — ^^That f)owdy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 50 — Her Ransom By Charles Garvice (Paid For) 55 — Thrice Wedded By Mr?. Georgie Sheldon 66 — Witch Hazel By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 70— Sydney By Charles Garvice (A Wilful Young Woman) 73 — The Marquis By Charles Garvice 77 — Tina » . » . By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 79— Out of the Past By Charles Garvice (Marjorie) ._.,^,. 84 — Imogene '..••.•••.•..By Charles Garvice (DuauH'esq's Temptation) • . 3 ,».V' NEW EAGLE SERIES. » — — ■ ■ -^ 85— Lorrie ; or, Hollow Gold , By Charles Garvic* 8&— Virgie's Inheritance By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon j)S— A Wilful Maid By Charles Garvice (Philiopa) gS—Claire By Charles Garvice (The Mistress of Court Regna) 99_Audrey's Recompense By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 102— Sweet Cyinbeline By Charles Garvice (Bellmaire) 109— Signa's Sweetheart By Charles Gfir^vice (Lx)rd Delamere's Bride) III— Faithful Shirley By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 117— She Loved Him By Charles Garvice ii9~ Twixt Smile and Tear By Charles Garvice (Ddlcie) 122— Grazia's Mistake By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 130— A Passion Flower.... By Charles Garvice (Madge) 133— Max By Mrs. (jeorgie Sheldon 136 — The Unseen Bridegroom By May Agfnes Fleming 138 — A Fatal Wooing By Laura Jean Libbey 141 — Lady Evelyn By May Agnes Fleming 144 — Dorothy's Jewels By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 146 — Magdalen's Vow By May Agnes Fleming 151 — The Heiress of Glen Gower By May Agnes Fleming 155 — Nameless Dell By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 157 — Who Wins By May Agnes Fleming 266 — The Masked Bridal By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon , 168 — Thrice Lost, Ihrice Won By May Agnes Fleming ■ 174— His Guardian Angel By Charles Garvice 177 — A True Aristocrat '. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon ! i8t — The Baronet's Bride By May Agnes Fleming I 188— Dorothy Arnold's Escape By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon I i95h-Geofifrey's Victory By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon I 203— Only One Love By Charles Garvice j 210— Wild Oats ..,,:. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon j 213 — The Heiress of Egremont By Mrs. Harriet Lewis i 215— Only a Girl's Love By Charles Garvice ; 219— Lost : A Pearle By Mrs, Georgie Sheldon 222— The Lily of Mordaunt By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 22Z — Leola Dale's Fortune By Charles Garvice 231— The Earl's Heir By Charles Garvice (Lady Norah) 233— Nora By Mrs. GeorgJe Sheldon 236 — Her Humble Lover By Charles Garvice (The Usurper; or, The Gipsy Peer) 242 — A Wounded Heart By Charles Garvfcc (Sweet as a Rose) 844— A Hoiden's Conquest By Mrs. (^orgie Sheldon ., s, ■ .4 " 31 3^ . 3^ ;; 3i \ 3^ \ 3: 3: 3: Charles Garvice Georgie Sheldon Charles Garvice Charles Garvice Georgie Sheldon Charles Garvice Charles G?ir.vice Georgie Sheldon Charles Garvice Charles Garvice Georgie Sheldon ' Charles Garvice Georgie Sheldon y Agnes Fleming Lura Jean Libbey y Agnes Fleming Georgie Sheldon ,y Agnes Fleming y Agnes Fleming Georgie Sheldon ly Agnes Fleming Georgie Sheldon ly Agnes Fleming ' Charles Garvice , Georgie Sheldon ly Agnes Fleming . Georgie Sheldon . Georgie Sheldon Charles Garvice . Georgie Sheldon rs. Harriet Le\yis y Charles Garvice . Georgie Sheldon . Georgie Sheldon y Charles Garvice y Charles Garvice . Georgie Sheldon y Charles Garyice y Charles Garvfcc \, Georgie Sheldon NEW EAGLE SERIES. 250 — A Woman's Soul By Charles Garvico (Doris; or, liehind the Footlights) 255 — The Little Marplot By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 257 — A Martyred Love By Charles Garvice (iris; or, Under the Shadows) 266— The Welfleet Mystery By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 267— Jeanne , By Charles Garvice (Barriers Between) 268 — Olivia; or, It Was for Her Sake By Charles Garvice 272 — So Fair, So False By Charles Garvice (The Beauty of tlie Season) 276 — So Nearly Lost By Charles Garvict j[The Springtime of Love) 277 — Brownie's Triumph By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 380— Love's Dilemma By Charles Garvice (For an Earldom) 282 — The Forsaken Bride By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 283-r-My Lady Pride By Charles Garvice 287 — The Lady of Darracourt By Charles Garvict ^ (Florist 288 — Sibyl's Influence By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 291 — A Mysterious Wedding Ring .... By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 292 — For Her Only By Charles Garvice (Diana) 296 — The Heir of Vering By Charles Garvice 299 — Little Miss Whirl wmd By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 300 — 'The Spider and the Fly By Charles Garvice (Violet) 303 — The Queen of the Isle By May Agnes Fleming 304 — Stanch as a Woman By Charles Garvice (A Maiden's Sacrifice) 305 — Led by Love .-. By Charles Garvice Sequel to "Stanch as a Woman" 309— The Heiress of Castle Cliffs By May Agnes Fleming 312 — Woven on Fate's Loom, and The Snowdrift, By Charles Garvice 315 — The Dark Secret By May Agnes Fleming 317 — lone By Laura Jean Libbey (Adrien Le Roy) 318 — Stanch of Heart By diaries Garvice 322 — Mildred By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 326 — Parted by Fate By Laura Jean Libbey 327 — He Loves Me By Charles Garvice 328 — He Loves Me Not By Charles Gifrvice 330— Aikenside By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 333 — Stella's Fortune By Charles Garvice (The Sculptor's Wooing) 334 — Miss McDonald . ., "". By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 339 — His Heart's Queen By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 340 — Bad Hugh. Vol. I By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes NEW EAGLE SERIES. 341— Bad Hugh, Vol. II By Mrs. Mary J. Holme* 344 — Tresilliaii Court By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 345 — The Scorned Wife By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 346— Guy Tresillian's Fate By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 347 — The Eyes of Love By Charles Garvice 348 — The Hearts of Youth By Charles Garvice 351— The Churchyard Betrothal By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 352 — Family Pride. Vol. I By Mary J. Holmes 353— Family Pride. Vol. II By Mary J. Holmes 354 — A Love Comedy By Charles Garvice 360 — The Ashes of Love By Charles Garvice 361 — \ Heart Triumphant By Charles Garvice 367 — The Pride of Her Life By Charles Garvice 360— iWon By Love's Valor By Charles Garvice 372 — A Girl in a Thousand By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 373«-A Thorn Among Roses By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon Sequel to "A Girl in a Thousand" 380— Her Double Life By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 381 — The Sunshine of Love By Mrs. Harriet Lewis Sequel to "Her Double Life" 382— Mona By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 391 — Marguerite's Heritage By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 399 — Betsey's Transformation By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 407 — Esther, the Fright By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 415 — Trixy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 440 — Edna's Secret Marriage By Charles Garvice 449 — The Bailiff's Scheme By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 450 — Rosamond's Love By Mrs. Harriet Lewii Sequel to "The BaiUflf's Scheme" 451 — Helen's Victory By Mrs, Georgie Sheldon 456— A Vixen's Treachery By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 457— Adrift in the World By Mrs. Harriet Lewis Sequel to "A Vixen's Treachery" ' 458 — When Love Meets Love By Charles Garvice 464 — The Old Life's Shadows By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 465 — Outside Her Eden By Mrs. Harriet Lewis Sequel to "The Old Life's Shadows" 474 — The Belle of the Season By Mrs. Harriet Lewis 475 — Love Before Pride By Mrs. Harriet Lewis Sequel to "The Belle of the Season" - 481— Wedded, Yet No Wife By May Agnes Fleming; i 489 — Lucy Harding By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes ' 495 — Norine's Revenge By May Agnes Fleming I SI I — The Golden Key By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon jji2^-rA Heritage of Love By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon Sequel to "The Golden Key" S19 — The Magic Cameo By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 5W>— The Heatherford Fortune .......By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon Sequel to "The Magic Cameo" "0 ' ' • 'fary J. Holmea Harriet Lewis Harriet Lewis Harriet Lewis ;harles Garvice Carles Garvice porgie Sheldon a^ J. Holmes ary r. Holmes •arles Garvice narles Garvice varies Garvice larles Garvice harles Garvice orgie Sheldon orgie Sheldon garnet Lewis t^arriet Lewis ^rgie Sheldon Jrgie Sheldon >rgie Sheldon ^rgie Sheldon >rg»e Sheldon arles Garvice farriet Lewis tarriet Lewis rgie Sheldon arriet Lewii arriet Lewis rles Garvice irriet Lewis irriet Lewis rriet I^wis rriet Lewis es Fleming J- Holmes :S Fleming le Sheldon e Sheldon e Sheldon e Sheldon CAUGHT IN THE SNARE SEQUEL TO "EDITH PERCIVAL (NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 103S) tt • ; BY MAY AGNES FLEMING Author of "A Mad Marriage," "A Woman Without Mercy,** "Silent and True," " A Trcasiire Lost, " "Kate Dan ton," "Proud as a Queen," and numerous other books published in the New Eaglk SERIKS. <■ .' STREET & SMITH CORPORATION PUBLISHERS :' 79^89 Seventh Avenue, New York 'I OopyrlRht, 1893 Bf O. W. olllluKham Caaglit in tho Snare i„,rm,wJSSKSt (Printed in the United States of Amerlc«)i N •.St\' SYNOPSIS OF "EDITH PERaVAL.** When the War of Independence broke out in America, Frederic Stanley left England at the command of his father to join th« army of the Royalists, in which the elder man held an importiiiit position. His son, however, had different views and had dccidoil to cast his lot with the "rebels." The ship on which he sailed from England was wrecked, and all on board were lost with the exception of the captain, young Stanley, and his friend, Gus Elliott. They clung to a raft until they were picked up by an American privateer. Some days later a vessel was sighted on lire, and a volunteer crew, headed by Stanley, went to the rescue of those on board, among whom they found a young girl, Edith Percival, Gus Elliott's cousin. All were taken off safely, and when they arrived at Boston, Edith begged Stanley to go with her to her home and receive the thanks of her parents for having saved her life. He was cordially greeted by the whole family, including Edith's younger sister, Nell. While here, he learned, much to his sorrow, that Edith was engaged to Ralph de Lisle, also a Royalist, for by this time Stanley was very deeply in love with her. When he told his father that he would not fight against his countrymen. Sir William became violently angry, and ordered him from his home, telling him that if he were caught with the rebels, he himself would have him shot. Later Frederic was taken prisoner and his father carried out his threat and or- dered him to be shot as a spy, but released him at the request of a mysteridus person known as the Hermit of the Cliffs. Edith told her fiance that she did not love him, and begged him to re- lease her from her engagement, but he refused, knowing that she was in love with Stanley. Major Percival, being a Royalist, also refused to allow his daughter to change her niind, having heard that Stanley was on the side of the rebels, biit postponed her marriage with De Lisle, who, infuriated at the delay, abducted her and kept her prisoner in a lonely house in the care of an old won^an and Elva Snowe, a young girl from the neighboring vil- lage. He was about to have the marriage performed here when Stanley, with some companions, interrupted the ceremony., and a skirmish followed in which several of the combatants were killed, Stanley and Gus Elliott being overcome and taken prisoner by De Lisle's men. y CAUGHT IN THE SNARE. CHAPTER I. JOE SMITH. "Dost deem that aught can hide in beggar rags. A heart so bold as mine? And dream'st thou aught of common danger now Can scare me from my purpose?" — Barry Cornwall. To explain how the friends of Edith discovered her prison, it is necessary to retrace our steps a little. For an hour or two after her departure with De Lisle, Major Percival walked thoughtfully up and down the broad piazza, debating within himself v/hether it were better to wait or compel Edith to fulfill her engagement. The words of Fred Stanley had thrown a new light on the sub- ject, and he felt convinced that her affection for him was the cause of her refusal. To marry or not to marry, therefore, was the question ; and in a state of unusual indecision the majf)r debated the case pro and con. While thus engaged, Nell came rimning up the stairs, and stood beside him: ^Tapa, Where's Edith?'* Joe Smith. "Out riding with De Lisle." ''With De Lisle?" and Nell's eyes opened to their widest extent with amazement. ''Eh? What's that?" said the major, turning round sharply. "Nothing, sir," said Nelly demurely, "but I really thought Ralph de Lisle was the last person Edith would go anywhere with." "And why not. Miss Impertinence? Whom should she go with, if not with her future hus- band?" "Why, papa, I thought Edith refused to ful- fill her engagement ?" r \i; "We'll make her fulfill it," was the short, sharp, and decisive reply. "Hem-m-m! Perhaps so," said Nell, with a scarcely perceptible smile, "but if I were in her shoes, I know I would not have gone with De Lisle to-night." "You wouldn't?" And a storm began to gather in the major's eyes. "Why, may I ask?" "Oh, I don't know; I wouldn't satisfy him so far; besides, he might try to run away with me or something. I wouldn't trust him." The words were spoken thoughtlessly ; but the major gave a sudden start, and stood silent. Nell left him, and tripped downstairs to join Gus in the garden, leaving him to his own reflections. An hour passed av.ay; Nell and Gus left the Joe Smith. opened to ^^, turning fJy, "but I last person Whom ^ture bus- ed to ful- ^rt, sharp, h with a re in her v/ith De •egan to I ask?" ' him so •h me or but the silent. >in Gus -ctions. ^ft the garden and piazza for the cool, pleasant parlor; but the major still remained watching for the arrival of Edith and De Lisle. Another hour passed on, and still they came not. The major began to feel anxious and angry at the prolonged absence. His anxiety communicated itself to the other members of the family, as another hour wore away without them. A thousand conjec- tures were formed as to the cause of this un- accountable absence, but none seemed satisfac- tory. As midnight approached, uneasiness changed into real alarm ; and the major and Gus, unable to endure the suspense longer, mounted their horses, and rode off in the direction they had taken. A sleepless night was passed in Percival Hall. Early in the morning, both returned from their fruitless search, weary and dispirited. No clew could be discovered; and all gazed into one an- other's faces, pale with terror.. Half an hour a "cer their return, a servant en- tered, bearing a note which he said had been given him by a man who immediately departed. The major glanced at the superscription, and recognized the bold, free hand of De Lisle. Tearing it open, he read: **My DiEAR Sir: As for reasons, doubtless, you decline besiowing on me the hand oi your 8 Joe Smith. fair daughter, I am under the painful necessity of making her my wife without troubhng you to give her away. For your, own sake, I feel con- vinced you will not make a public affair of this, as I judged you have too much pride to allow your daughter's good name to become a byword for the town. Reat assured she shall be treated with all the respect due the daughter of so dis- tinguished a gentleman as Major Percival; and when once my wife, shall be restored to her home on one condition. It is, that you will give me her fortune as a sort of ransom, which, as you are wealthy, no doubt you will willingly do. If you refuse, why then it will be all the worse for your pretty, but rather stubborn daughter. The retreat to which I have taken her is secure, and you cannot discover it; therefore, you had betten make up your mind to comply with my terms at once. If you do, your daughter shall be immedi- ately restored to you; if not **I have the honor, my dear sir, to remain, **Yourse sincerely, Ralph de Lisle."' 'The scoundrel! The treacherous, deceitful villain!" thundered the major, springing to his feet, white with passion. "What is it?'' demanded Gus and Nell, while Mrs. Percival's eyes asked the same question, though her lips were silent. "Read that !" exclaimed the major, as he flung the missive he had crumpled in his hand, fiercely from him. **Read that! For I cannot tell you!^' fill necessity xhling you to ' i feel con- rfair of this, J fiercely eil you f^* Joe Smith. Nell took it up and read it slowly from begin-, ning to end. ''Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Percival, *'what shall we do?" ''Do?" shouted the major. '^I'll send a bullet through his heart if ever my eyes light on him again. The black-hearted villain! Is this his return for all I have done for him? My daugh- ter ! My daughter in the power of such a vil- lain!" ,: , . ; ''My dear sir, what is the matter?" cxchimed a well-known voice; and looking up, they beheld Nugent, dusty and travel worn, standing before them. In a few words Nell related all that had hao- pened, for the rest were too much excited to do so, and ended by placing De Lisle's letter in his hand. The brow of Nugent, grew dark, and his eyes flashed fiercely, but subduing all other signs of anger, he turned to his father, and said: Well, sir, on w^hat plan have you decided?** Tlan? I can think of nothing but of pursu- ing that scoundrel to the ends of the earth. Mount, mount, and after him!" "Stay!" cried a voice that made them all start, it was so stern and commanding. "Are you mad to start on such a wild-goose chase? Wait; fol- low my directions, and all will be well!" They looked up, and, to their amazement, the ((^ Fortune has favored me, the time has come, and your hours are numbered. She whom you love is in my poyer, and the same hour which will see you swinging a discolored - corpse between heaven and earth will see her a bride in my arms. You both began a dangerous game, Fred Stanley, when you thwarted my wishes, as you will find when the halter is around your neck, and as she will discover when, after making her mine, I will whisper in her ear the fate of him whom she loves better than life/- "Fiend! Devil in human form' Do your worst, and may the heaviest curse of Heaven fall upon you!" exclaimed Fred, growing livid with passion. **Ha! I thought you would feel that!" said De Lisle, with a grim smile. "You will have ample time to meditate on these and many other consoling truths between this and the day of doom. It will also, doubtless, be a pleasure to TO Joe Smith. 1,1 you to know that Edith will be a prisoner under the same roof with you until my return, which may be to-morrow, or at the furthest, three days hence. And noW it occurs to me that my revenge will be greater to allow you to be present at our bridal. I will thus have a double triumph over you both." -- "A fiend could not be more diabolical!" ex- claimed Fred, paling involuntarily at his words. '*Have I not well learned the art of torturing?" went on De Lisle, with a fiendish smile. *' Death itself would be nothing, that would be a poor tri- umph; I know you well enough to be aware that you do not fear death ; but the torture I shall in- flict before death will last even after the soul has left the body. I will leave you now to repose and solitude. You will have ample time," he added, with a sneer, ''to meditate on your latter end, and make your peace with Heaven ,during my absence. Should I return to-morrow, before another sun sets you shall swing as high as Ha- man. Au re voir." And turning on his heel, he strode from the room. To-morcow?" repeated P>ed, gazing after his retreating figure, ''who knows what to-morrowi may bring forth ?" ^ '-*u*;>n : : CHAPTER II. V JOE VISITS HIS PRISONER|l.. ; ;'• 'Trust in God! Thou forlorn one, cease thy moan; • ' All thy pain and all thy sorrow, ^ Are to God, the Highest known ; . .... He leaves thee now, but helps to-morrow. Trust in God!" The bright sunshine of the morning follow- ing that eventful night shone into Editu's room,; but it was all unheeded by her. She lay On her face on the bed, not sleeping, but in a deep, heavy torpor, her white arms extended above her head, so still and motionless that but for the quick breathing one might imagine her dead. Not of herself was she thinking, but of those for whom she would have given her life, of one whom she would gladly have died to save. Fred! Fred I All through that miserable night his name had been on her lips, his image alone in her heart. Never again would she meet those dear, dark eyes, already, perhaps, closed forever; that brave heart, whose every throb had been for her, might now be cold and still in death. All that had ever made life desirable seenfed lost to her forever, and in the glad sunshine of that bright morning she lay and prayed for death. •/, >r!!!,l l;^ I 'i 22 Joe Visits His Prisoners. The bolt was withdrawn, the door opened, some one entered, but she did not look up. She was conscious that some one was bending over her, but still she did not move until she heard a strange voice muttering in a sort of soliloquy: ''Crickey! She beats the seven sleepers, she does. Tm blamed if she ain't as sound as a top. Waal, I s'pose Td better leave the vittals here, and arter her snooze' she'll fall to." . With a start, Edith rose on her elbow, and gazed around. Her amazement at beholding the uncouth figure and face of honest Joe Smith may be imagined. So completely was she bewildered that she continued to stare at him between sur- prise and terror, scarcely knowing whether to cry out for help or not. Joe, however, bore her scrutiny with wonderful composure, and re- turned her stare with compound interest. ''Good mornin', mann, fine day this ; how's your folks? I hope the old woman and all the folks to hum is well," said Joe in a tone of condescend- ing politeness. **What?" said Edith, rather bewildered by the rapidity with which this speech was delivered. ''Never mind, 'tain't worth sayin* over again," said Joe. "I hope I didn't disturb any pleasant dreams o' yourn. You was sleepin' away like all creation when I came in." iilr4|> : joe y'isits His Prisoners. 23 / "Who sent you here?" inquired Edith, whcse terror had not quite vanished. "Waal, the cap'n did, marm,'* repUed Joe; **I 'xpect Fm to be waitin' maid till he comes back. I hain't no objections to it, though, *cause, maybe, I'll be able to larn Glory Ann somethin' in her line arter I go back to hum. Here's your break- fas', marm, what that jolly old case down in the kitchen sent me with. Seems to me the cap'n's got a taste for keepin' people in the lockup, judg- in' by all I've 'tended to this mornin'. Let's see two and one's three and one's four— four I've vis- ited this mornin', countin' you." An exclamation of delight broke involuntarily from the lips of Edith. Three besides her! Then Fred was living still. *'Hey? What is it? Did you stick a pin in you?" inquired Joe, mistaking the cause of her emotion. ''Who were the three you visited this morn- ing?" she inquired, with breathless interest. 'AVaal, let's see," said Joe, closing one eye and laying his forefinger meditatively on the point of his nose, ''the first, I think, somebody called Goose, or somethin' about the size o' that." 'Gus," amended Edith eagerly. 'Yaas, Gus, or Goose, or some sort o' a fowl. 1 found him lyin' on the floor, takin* a snfooze, I s'pose, somethin' like I found you. He got up iit if ffgSir^; ! 24 Joe Visits His Prisoners. iki- .I'i when I came in, and fell to the vittals as if he'd been livin' on pavin' stones for a weekj an' 'tween every mouthful he took to askin' me a string o' questions long as a lawyer's conscience. He wanted to know all the particulars 'bout you, and 'fore he'd give me time to answer one of 'em, he blowed the cap'n and the whole blamed consarn sky high. 'Twa'n't ho use to try to reason mat- ters with him, 'cause when I took to arguin', 'fore I got to thirdly, he told me to go and be hanged. You see I couldn't stand that, I wasn't used to it, mother never 'lowed no profane swearin' to hum, so I just told him to be hanged himself, if he liked, but as for me, I was like the iHighlandman, in no hurry." ^z > - **What Highlandman ?" inquired Edith ab- sently. "Why, some old Scotch big bug, long ago, had a servant that did somethin', I forgot what, and he was goin' to hang him for it. But, you see, the servant had been a favorite of his, so his master told him he'd grant him the favor of choosing whichever tree in his orchard he'd like to be hung on. The servant was tickled to death to hear it an' went out to choose the tree with his master. At last, he stopped before a goose- berry bush, and said he'd be hung onto that. " *Go to grass !' sez his master ; 'that ain't big enough to hang a six-footer like you on!'- Joe Visits His Prisoners. 25 ";Oh, well,' sez the servant, Til wait till it grows big. I'm in no hurry!' " ''But the others — the others?" exclaimed Edith, who had listened impatiently to this di- gression. *'0h, ya-as, just so. Well, the next was the very pictor o' you, s'pect he must be some rela- tion. He was sittin' down onto a bench, an' asked me a few questions, not many, though, 'bout a dozen or so — if I'd seen you, and where was the boss, and so on. It was sort o' com- fortable to talk to him 'sides the other two, who didn't seem to have a single grain o' senses in their knowledge boxes." i "And the third?" demanded Edith hurriedly. *'Him? Oh, Jerusalem! I've seen a wildcat, I've seen a bear with a sore head, I've seen a gander when somebody carried off the goslin's before him, I've see mother in a passion, and a-flarin' around at the governor, but I never, never, never saw such a savage, wild-lookin' stun- ner as t'other one. Cracky ! When I went in thar, he was a-tearin' up and down as though he was boun' to have a walk somehow if the floor held out, lookin' so sort o' savage lookin* an' fierce, that I like to spilt his breakfas' a top of him. It's lucky I didn't; for if he'd got his dander riz j any wuss, I don't know whar Joe Smith'd be 26 Joe Visits His Prisoners. now. Fm blamed if I ever seen any one in sich a tearin' rage as that cove was in." "It must have been Fred," thought Edith. *'Was he wounded, how did he look?" she asked aloud. "Waal, marm, I don't know as I kin tell," said Joe thoughtfully. "He set me into sich a lius- terification, that it was most a danger to look at him. He nad a black coat and trousis, and hair on, and was as tall as — as — I don't know who. He was sort o' darkish lookin', with a black murstuasher onto his upper lip. Some people might call him good lookin' ; but Glory Ann allers sez fair hair's the nicest." And Joe gave his tow locks a complacent shake. ''Would you take a message from me to them?" inquired Edith eagerly. "Waal, now, I don't know," said Joe rather reluctantly; "'twould be sorter agin orders, you know. Sorry to refuse you, marm, but I can't help it." "Tell him, at least, that I will die sooner than marry De Lisle. You will befriend me by do- ing so; and you can do no one any possible in- jury," said Edith pleadingly. *Tell who, marm — which of 'em?'' "The one you spoke of last." "Oh ! the fierce-lookin' one. Yes'm, I don't mind tellin' him. But I guess he won't care. I Joe Visits His Prisoners, 27 one in sich don't believe he'd go to the weddin' if he was asked." ''You will tell him, at least? You will not forget it?'* said Edith anxiously. "Oh, no fear; I'll tell him if he does blow me up. Tany rate, I guess wed cin' a book CHAPTER III. I'LOTTING. 'Nightly tears have dimmed the luster Of thy sweet eyes, once so bright ; And us when dark willows cluster, Weeping o'er marble rocks, O'er thy forehead white, Droop thy waving locks — Yet thou art beautiful, poor girl, * As angels in distress — 'Yea, comforting thy soul, dear girl, With thy loveliness." — Tupper. The day's toil was over. Nan Crow, after ' screeching and grumbling and scolding to her heart's content, had thrown her apron over her head and fallen asleep in her easy-chair in the long kitchen. The men were loitering idly about, some lying on the grass, where the shadows fell long and dark, rejoicing in the cool evening breeze after the scorching heat of the day ; some sat at the table playing cards, swearing and vocif- erating at an appalling rate; others lounged in groups roimd the room, with bottles and glasses before them, relatifig their several adventures, for the general benefit of all. Mr. Joe Smith, who found his duties of maid- of-all-work rather fatiguing, would gladly have left the revelers to themselves; but they, having iij -I 30 Plotting. no one to wait on them, were determined he should not escape so easily. ■• , ' Unceasing calls for Mrs. Smith, as they named him, resounded continually from one end of the room to the other, until at last, in a fit of des- ^ peration, he told them to go to grass and wait on themselves. A shout of laughter, and a unani- mous cry of ''Come back! Come back!'* reached him, but unheeding their sKouts, Joe resolutely made his escape, and set off for a ramble by him- self. Sitting on the trunk of a fallt.;. tree, he leaned his head on his hand, and fell into a fit of pro- . found musing. For upwards of an hour he re- mained thus, with brows knit, eyes fixed on the ground, and lips compressed like one in deep meditation. Suddenly a new light seemed to dawn on him, and he sprang to his feet with the triumphant exclamation: " , "I have it!'* "Have what?" said a merry voice beside him, and turning abruptly round, worthy Joe beheld our little friend Elva., i "Waal, now, I don't know as it's any business . 0* yourn," said he, surveying her coolly from I head to foot. "You're mighty polite," she said. ! "Waal, yaas, rayther; Glory Ann allers said so," said Joe modestly. itcrmined he Plotting. 31 n allers said •'Who's Glory Ann?" "A young hidy up to hum ; I'm goin* to be mar- ried to her some dav." "Nice girl 1 expect?'* "Nice! That word doesn't begin to tell about I Glory Ann Lazybones. I tell you she's a reg'lar screamer, and no mistake." "Shouldn't wonder," said Elva. '*Is she as good-looking as I am?" "Waal, now, 1 don't know. Some folks might say you was better lookin'; but I don't. You ain't so showy, you know. Glory Ann's got nice red hair ; and red-haired girls is allers smart and spunky." "They are, eh? Now, if Fd known that be- fore, I'd have dyed, and not gone whimpering [ through the world, afraid to call my soul my own. Perhaps it's not too late yet, eh? What do you think ?'^ "Oh^you don't need it. You've got impidence enough. You'll do." "Oh, really, that's cool. What's your name?' "What's yours?" "Elvena Snowe — not so pretty as Glory Ann Lazybones, is it?" "Not quite; hers is a Scripter name, you know. Yours is pooty, though, and sounds sort o' cool this hot weather." "Now, what's yours?" 32 Plotting. 11 i "Waal, it might be Beelzebub, or Nebuchad nezzar, or any other Bible name, but 'tain't I reckon I won't tell you; I'd rattier not have it made public." "Why?" . ^ ''Oh, well, Joe Smith ain't a common name, so 1 I guess I'll keep it a secret. 'Sides, there's no | telliu' but you may fall in love with me; and I'm anxious to avoid sich a c'lamity.'* 'You're a case! Aren't you the boy De Lisle hired yesterday?*' "Waal, I mought be, and agin I moughtn't. Seems to me you're very inquisitive," said Joe suspiciously. "And it seems to me you're very cautious. What do you take me for?" said Elva indig- nantly. ^ ,.•,■-...';•:;■ '■ ^. .-.'. "Why, you might be a good many things, you Hiight be Cornwallis or Washington in disguise, or you might be a spy from the enemy. There's never no tellin'." "You're too smart to live long, Joe, dear. How do you suppose a Httle thing like me could be anybody but herself?" "It does seem odd," said Joe, scratching his head, as if to extract some reason by the roots: ■^'but then you know, it's better to be sure than sorry. I like to be on my guard, so*s I won't leave Glory Ann a widder." Plottifig. 33 "I honor you for your prudence, my son. And now, Joe, when I assure you I'm no desperate character^neither CornwalHs nor Washington in petticoats — maybe you'll answer me a few questions?" "Yaas'm, if they're no ways improper for me to Hsten to." "You sweet innocent! Do you think I'd ask such a saintly cherub as you anything improper? First, then, there's a young lady confined pris- oner in that old house over there." "Waal, no V, I raally couldn't say." And Joe looked innocently unconscious as he issued this little work of fiction. "Oh, gti out, and don't tell fibs!" exclaimed Elva, indignantly. "There's three other pris- oners there, too, isn't there?" "There might be; I don't like to say for sartin, for fear o' tellin' a lie," replied Joe, shutting one eye, and fixing the other reflectively on a grass- hopper at his feet. "I'll ask when I go back, and send you a letter to let you know." "You abominable wretch! I know very well they're there," said Elva, losing all patience. "Well, and if you know very well, where the mischief's the use o' askin' me a string of impu- dent questions, and callin' me names?" exclaimed Joe indignamtiy. v . 34 'Plotting. 'li !'"!^;:jia %M^A ^mm Elva couldn't resist laughing at Joe's look of offended dignity. "Yes, you may larf," he said with a look of intense disgust. '1 s'pose it's all very funny comin' and callin' a fdlar names. It shows all the brought'n up you had!" And Joe gave the innocent grasshopper at his feet a vicious kick. 'There, now, Joe, don't get mad, like a good boy," said Elva, patting him soothingly on the back; "listen to me: I'm Miss Fercival's friend and wish to see her." - . - \. -; "Well, go and see her then," said Joe sulkily, *1 ain't hinderin' you." "But I can't," said Elva, "unless you help me." 'i\Ie!" said Joe, opening wide his eyes, "how?" 'Why, you must find the key of the side door, and let me in that way. I don't want anybody to see me. Now, do, like a dear, good boy." "You be grannied!" exclaimed Mr. Smith los- ing all patience. "Can't you teli a fellar who you want to see, and hot be goin' on with your story hindend foremost." "Why, I thought you knew," said Elva. "I mean the prisoner, Miss Percival." "Oh! that's her name, is it? How was I to know, when nobody never told me? So you .want to see her, do you?" "Yes, ye^, yes! Do let me in, will you?*' ((- (i^ Plotting. 35 "Why don't you go and ask some of the. others?" *'0h! they won't let me, they're hateful, but you're not. Ah, Joe, won't you?" And Elva looked pleadingly up in his face. "Waal, now marm," said Joe, laying one finger reflectively on his nose. "I'd like to oblige you if 'twas any ways possible, but if I'm found out, the boss wouldn't make no bones o' stringing me up like a red herrin', and I tell you what, I hain't no ambition to be. elevated in the world after that fashion." **He won't find you out; how can he?" ex- claimed Elva impetuously; "he is away, the men are all lounging and drinking in the other wing of the building, old Nan Crow is asleep, and there is no one plotting mischief or making love but you and me. There ! you needn't look so, sur- prised. I know more about that old house and its inmates than you think. So, now, Joe, you dear, good-natured looking old soul, let me in to see Miss Percival, and I'll dance at your wed- ding." This last entreaty had a due efifect upon Joe, (who indulged in sundry low chuckles at the idea. (Recovering his composure at last, he seated him- self deliberately on the log, and crossing one leg over the other, and fixing his eyes solemnly upon his cowhide boots, fell into a profound fit of mus- ii'r »■■ W i(> Plotting. ing. iElva stood watching him, swinging her ligiit straw hat by the strings, and tapping her httle foot impatiently up and dov*'n, %; • 'Well, now, Joe, I liope you'll soon honor me with an answer," she said at last, quite out of patience. "1 declare I never saw such a stick of a fellow as you are, a body can hardly get a word out of you." ' ''Eh?" said Joe, looking up; ''were you speakin to me, Miss Elva?" ' • "Was I speaking to you, Miss Elva?" repeated the young lady, mimicking his tone. ''Yes, I was speaking to you, Miss Elva. Did you ever hear it was impolite not to answer a lady when she speaks to you?" ' • ^ • *'Waal, if I don't talk much, I keeps up a mighty big thinking," said Joe, "and as to answerin' ladies, why, as I never met one yet, I couldn't hev' bin very imper'ite to 'em." , .-, "Why, you horrid, impudent fellovv', what do you call me but a lady?" '- ' • ' "Oh, my eyes!" ejaculated Joe, with a look of infinite contempt. "You a lady. You hain't no more the look of one than I hev. Lady, indeed! lYou git out!" ' ''Well, we won't argue the question now," said 'Elva. "Perhaps we've hardly time at present to do the subject justice. And now, once for all, j avill you gt-ant my request ?" '^ Plotting. 37 swinoring her id tapping her oon honor nie . quite out of such a stick hardly get a e you speakiii' ^a 'r repeated 'He. ^'Yes, I i^id you ever a lady when 3 up a mighty to answerin' 't, I couldn't >vv, what do th a look of ^u hain't no idy, indeed! now/' said t present to ice for all. ''Why, I don't mind if 1 do, seein' it's you," Replied Joe; ''but first I'll go and see Miss Perci-. val, and tell her you want to see her. By the- , time I git back it'll be dark, and you can git in without bein' , seen, and everything will' go otT ,fimoothly." r. ■.,;,:, r^ '■ , I "That's a good boy," said Elva approvingly. *'Maybe I won't write to Glory Ann one of these, days, and tell her what a. nice fellow she's going ||to get. Hurry up now, and I'll wait here till you icome back." - So saying, she seated herself on the fallen tree, and watched honest Joe as he shuffled slowly out of sight and disappeared among the trees. An hour passed, and he had not made his ap- pearance. A deep gloom was settHng around,, the dark pines swayed solemnly to and fro in the night l^reeze. There was no light save that of the radiant stars; no sound save that of the wind and the cry of the katydid. The silence was almost painful, as Elva sat wild with im- patience. At length, as she was about to despair of his coming at all, a familiar voice at her ear startled her with the expressive words: "Here we is!" • ; . . ''Oh, Joe, is it you? I thought you would never come. Well, can I see her?" she exclaimed breathlessly. •■Yes'm,: I've 'ranged everything beautifully. 38 Plotting. m mk llili ;l II 1 IPiir II ' v>i'l;i„ ,,, ■■. .' !|'- r liillil \ 1 ru go back to the house, and you steal round to the side door you was speaking of, and J'll let you in. That's the way." And each took a different path, both leading to the old house. , : v The side door spoken of had long been unused, and was almost hidden by vines and shrubs. Forcing her way through these, Elva waited until she heard the key turn in the rusty lock. Push- ing open the door, she entered a long, dark hall, where she beheld Joe standing, lamp in hand. *'Here take this," he said, handing her the light. ^1 s'pose you know the way up to the room better'n I can show you. Til be aboi.t here and wait, and let you out.'' "You're a darling!" exclaimed Elva, as she al- most flew up a winding staircase. *'How I wish I was Glory Ann Lazybones to get such a prize as you." And with a merry laugh she vanished amid the gloom, while Joe gazed after her with a look of decided admiration. Reaching the well-known chamber of the pris- 01 jr, she tapped at the door. A low voice bade her enter, and withdrawing the bolts she passed into the room. Edith sat by the table, her head leaning on her hand. She looked up as Elva entered, and ap- proached with extended hands. Elva was shocked beyond measure by the Plotting. 39 steal round to of, and Til let both leading r been unused, and shrubs, a waited until lock. Push- ng, dark hall, P in hand, ding her the ly up to the t>e about here ^a, as she al- 'How I wish such a prize she vanished ter her with of the pris- '' voice bade she passed ning on her 'd, and ap- re by the ^^HySf ■i", -if ■•:;** # change those few days had made. The face of Edith, always fair, seemed now perfectly trans- parent, the deep-blue eyes had grown dim and heavy with constant weeping. A long illness could hardly have changed her more than those miser- able days and sleepless nights, albeit she was not used to ''tears by night instead of slumber." ''My dear Elva, how glad I am to see you again !" she said, pressing the young girl's hands in her own. "The pleasure is mutual, my dear Miss Perci- val. But how pale and thin you are looking. Have you been sick?" "No, not exactly sick; but I have been sick in body and mind. Oh, Elva ! how could I be other- wise in this dreadful place?" "Very true," said Elva sadly, "and your friends, are they still here, or has De Lisle '* "No, no," interrupted Edith hurriedly, "not yet. But when he returns Oh, Elva, Elva \ pray Heaven I may die before that dreadful time." "Not so, Miss Percival. You shall live and be happy In spite of all the De Lisles that ever cheated the hangman," exclaimed Elva. "We'll see if woman's wit is not more than a match for man's cunning. De Lisle will not return, father says, until the day after to-morrow; and when he does come back and finds his bird has flown 40 Plot ting. away from her cage during his absence, won't th^re be a scent ? Whew ! It will be as good as a piay to see him." And Elva clapped her hands in delight. "Elva! What do you mean? I do not under- stand," said Edith, looking bewildered. • "Why, you shall make your escape to-morrow night, that's the talk. When everybody is sleep- ing, I'll come here, fasten a rope ladder to your window — climb up — iron grating's old — easily taken off — you'll get down — make a moonlight flitting — and before morning dawns you'll be over the hills and far away!" » Edith caught her breath at the vision thus con- jured up. But a moment's reflection banished the bright hopes Elva's words had recalled to her heart. "My cousin, my brother, and — their friend, how can I go and leave them here in the power of De Lisle? Oh, Elva, I cannot go." , "Bother !" exclaimed Elva impatiently. "What good can your staying here do them? Will it help them any you marrying De Lisle, as you will most assuredly have to do, if you wait until he comes back? If they really care for you, will it not render them far more miserable than any- thing they may have themselves to sufl'er? Whereas, if you escape, you may yet rescue them; or if you cannot, you can at least let every ^ absence, vvon'i ^lii be as good as dipped her handsi J ^o not under- idered. cape to-niorrow I'ybody is sleep- Jadder to your g-'s old—easily ^e a moonlight 1 '^ns you'JJ be - Vision thus con- ation banished recalled to h PlotiUnj. 4i. er -their friend, J" the power ^ntly. -vVhat ^m? Will \t ^^ as you will vait until he ^ you, will it ^ than any- ^^ suffer? y^t rescue 1st hi tv^ry me know what a villain he is, and have the com- fort of letting the world see him dance on noth- ! Stay here, indeed! Nonsense, Miss Per- fival! I beg your pardon for saying 30, Ijut the lea is perfectly absurd." Edith's mood always caught its tone and im- )eius from whoever chanced to be with her. low some of the daring spirit that glowed on the ; cheeks and flashed in the eyes of Elva animated pher own heart, as she raised her head atid said hnnly : .• ,_ , "Be it so then, kindest, best of friends. I shall make the attempt ; if 1 succeed, I shall at least be spared the wretched doom of becoming the wife of one I detest; if I fail, my fate can be no worse than it is now." "Fail!" echoed Elva cheerily. "In my vocab- ulary there is no such word as fail. No, you will live and laugh at De Lisle yet." "That's the chat!" exclaimed a voice that made them both start; and turning round in alarm, they beheld the shock head of Master Joe pro- truded through the half -open door. i iiiiiiir'" '■Si I CHAPTER IV. THE ESCAPE. "The lovely stranger stands confessed A maid in all her charms." — Goldsmith. ^That's the chat!" again repeated the worthy youth, as, seeing he was discovered, he walked in and coolly took a seat. *'0h, Joe! my dear Joe! you will not betray us?" exclaimed Elva, while Edith sat in silent dismay. ''Don't know 'bout that," replied Joe. " Tain't fair to be cheatin' the boss in this fashion. La ! how nicely I caught you that time !" and evidently highly delighted at the recollection, he leaned back and laughed until the tears stood in his eyes. ''Joe, you won't tell, will you?" pleaded Elva. "How would you like now if Glory Ann was a prisoner and wanted to escape, and somebody hin- dered her ? Just think what a heartrending case that would be, and let us off." "Waal, now, I don't know's I'd care. I's get- tin' sorter tired of Glory Ann," said Joe coolly. "Unfaithful youth !" exclaimed Elva, in a voice of horror. "Poor, deserted Glory Ann. But since that fails to move you. Miss Percival's father is very rich, and if you help her to escape vour fortune is made." The Escape. 43 ssed -DSMlTa. the worthy he walked in ^ not betray sat in silent i( V pe. **Tain't ^shion. La ! nd evidently • he leaned in his eyes, -aded Elva. Ann was a lebodyhin- ■nding ca.^e ■• Ts get- foe coolly. in a voice ^nn. Ih^t Percival's to escape *'Go to grass!" indignantly exclaimed Mr. Smith. **What d'ye s'pose I care 'bout his- money? No'm; if you hain't somethin' better to propose than that, I'll blab !'* "What can I offer?" said poor Elva in despair. ''Just mention something yourself Joe, and if it's in my power you shall have it." 'There's one thing," said Joe meditatively. ''Name it, name it!" exclaimed Elva impa- tiently. "It's very easy, too, though I never thought of it afore," v/ent on Joe, in the same slow, thought- ful tone. "Name it, name it!" exclaimed the impatient Elva. "Yes. I don't care 'bout Glory Ann, there's no mistake in that. Red hair's common, and I guess I'll take to some other color," continued Joe seriously, without lifting his eyes off the floor. "Oh, you wretch? You provoking creature f You stupid old thing you! Will you tell me what it is?" and Elva, losing all patience, shook him so soundly that poor Joe looked up quite astonished. . "Hey? What's the matter? Oh, you want to know what it is, do you? Waal, ye see, I'v got kinder tired o' Glory Ann, as I sed, and I'd like a change; so I'll help the young lady to run off, if "' 44 The Esiope. \; Hiiil "Well, if what?" reiterated that youn^ lady. Joe paused and looked doubtfully at Klva. *'lf you'll marry me!" exclaimed Joe, like a man of honor, coming to the point at 'once. "Done!" exclaimed Elva; "there's my hand on it. Who'll say after this that I haven't had a proposal?" And Elva cast a glance toward Edith that, in spite of herself, brought a smile to the face of the latter. ■ •• "You're a trump!" exultingly exclaimed Joe, "a regular stunner! I tell you what, I'll set free them three coves down in the lower regions if you like. I will, by gracious !'* With an exclamation of joy, Edith and Elva both sprang forward and caught each a hand of Joe, who looked a little surprised, not to say alarmed, at this sudden attack. "Joe, dear, you're a darling!" exclaimed Elva, "I'll marry you a dozen times over if you like]"' "All right!" said Joe; "and now that the courtin' part o' the business is over, s'pose we change the subject. Let's see: to-morrow night, 'bout twelve, be ready, and if we don't fix 'em it'll be a caution !" And he arose to leave. "But, Joe, won't you tell us what you intend to do?" said Elva; "just consider I'm 3^our better half now, and have a right to know." , The Escapi. 45 "Don't trouble yourself, marm. ril tell you afterward," replied Joe; ''and now 1 shouldn't ;. be s'prised if 'twas time for you lo go. To- niorrer night, 'bout this time, come round to the side door, and 1 11 let you in, so's to be t-eady to start with us." Elva laughed, and wh^i a cheerful good night turned to follow him, leaving Edith with a more hopeful look on her face than she had worn for a long time. The following day Joe did not appear until nearly noon, when he informed Edith that he had told her friends of their plan, and that they were "tickled to death 'bout it." To all her anxious inquiries as to what that plan was, he only re- pHed by telling her to "hold on and she'd sec arter a spell." With the approach of night came Elva, who was silently admitted by Joe through the side door, and conducted to Edith's apartment. There that worthy youth left them, after many charges not to be asleep when he called for them, by and by. Elva knew that three men remained each night in the corridor before the cells of the prisoners, . »and how he was to conduct them past these was * a mystery she could not solve. Joe, however, * '.^ turned a deaf ear to all her questions, and re- .> 46 The Escape. m iij ! peating his command to be ready at the appointed hour, left chem to themselves. Passing through the many halls and passages and staircases, Joe at length reached the opposite end of, the house, and entered a spacious sitting room, where nearly a dozen men were seated round a long table in the middle of th floor, singing, shouting, telling 3<^ories and vociferating in the most approved fashion. At the head of the table sat Paul Snowe, the father of Elva, in blissful ignorance of the plot his audacious little daughter was weaving to free his prisoners. '*Hi, tliere! Mrs. Smith! Where the deuce have you been all evening?" called a flashy look- ing- individual, known as Dandy Dan ; "I believe, in my soul, the tow-headed scoundrel is forever making love to Lady Beauty above stairs." "Come here, Mrs. Smith, my dear," said an- other, "the jug*s empty, and Nan Crow's asleep. Be off to the kitchen and fill it, and here's your good health, ma'am." With a smothered growl, which elicited a shout of laughter, Joe took the huge earthen jar which stood in the center of the table, and set off on the errand. Filling it from a large cask which stood in the kitchen, he drew a bottle from his -pocket containing a colorless liquid and emptied its contents into the Jamaica rum. A smile of triumph flitted over his face, which was, how- t the appointed The Escape. 47 [ever, changed to one of sulky stupidity, as he [again stood before the revellers, panting under lis load. "Good boy, Joe," said Dandy Dan, helping him fto lift the jar on the table, "has your mother any lore like you?" "Yes, thar's lots on' em to hum, but none so [smart as me," said Joe, in a tone ot artless sim- fplicity. "YouVe a genius, Joe. Pity they didn't make a lawyer of you!" "No, sir, none o' our family ever fell so low as that yet," said Joe, in a tone of offended pride ; "mother was to l^w once and I never wants to know no more 'bout it." "And what sent the old lady to law?" inqniied Paul Snowe. "Waal, 'twas 'bout our cow. Our cow and mother and two other cows was out, and she kicked +he minister." "Who did? Your mother?" "No, the cow. He was goin'- 'long, and she took to jawin' him 'bout somethin' she didn't like in his sermon." "The cow did?" "No, mother. So he comes over to 'xplain and he leaned agin' her and taks to smoothin* down her back." "Smoothing your mother's back?' )» 43 The Escape. **No, the cow's. But she wasn't goin' to take none o' his blarney, so she jist turned up her nose and told him to go to pot." - ■ "The cow told him so?'* ; "No, mother! But he took to arguin' so at last forgetting he wasn't in the pulpit, he broughc his fist down with an almighty, thump on her back." ^ , "On your mother's back?" "No, darn ye, on the cow's! So havin' a spirit of her own that wouldn't puc up with sich insults, she lifts up her hind leg and gave him a kick.", ''Your mother did?" , ., ^., "No, blame you, the cow! By gracious I won't stand to hear the old woman insulted this way !" exclaimed Joe indignantly. r A roar of laughter followed, during which Joe stood looking savagely from one to the other, and at last turned away in evident disgust. "I say, Joe, don't leave us, man!" called Paul Snowe; "tell us what happened to your mother and the other cow?" ''Find out!" said Joe shortly. ''What's the use o' tellin' a story when you're too stupid to understand it ? I wouldn't tell you another word if you was to bust!" And with this spirited an- >?w nouncenient taloons a kitchen. the young gentleman gave his pan- indignant hitch, and repaired to the The Escape^. 49 Another hour passed, and the uproar grew fast and furious. Joe listened with a smile and a muttered "it will soon be over," and patiently bided his time. Gradually the noise died away. Now and then a heavy sound would be heard, as one of the drunken revelers fell prostrate on the floor, and a long-drawn snore betrayed his profoundly drunken sleep. Joe went in softly. Lying un- der the table, and in various directions through the room, where De Lisle's gallant band. Paul Snowe lay back in his seat, his head down on his breast, sleeping as profoundly as the rest. Joe seized the jar, considerably lighter now, and repaired with in in the direction where the prisoners were confined. Leaning against the walls, half asleep, were the remaining three who had been left to guard them. "Who comes?" cried one of the sentinels, open- ing his sleepy eyes. "Only me, Ben — Joe Smith. The other chaps drunk theirselves asleep, and I brought the jar here, thinking you might like the rest." "Thanky, Joe; may you never die till your time comes," said the man, as he, together with his companions, gathered around the jug. "Don't see any reason why them coves upstairs should have all the fun to themselves," said the other, taking a long draft. 50 The Escape. ■'!.!i ii::;,l;]:hn!l ■m lliiiliii "That was my notion exactly," said Joe. 'Trime that!" said the third, smacking his lips. *7oe, you deserve to be made an archbishop." Joe took the compliment with all humility, and looked with delight at their eagerness to empty the jug. Very soon its effects became apparent, for the three worthy sentinels lay stretched at full length, as sound asleep as their companions upstairs. Joe arose softly, and taking the keys from the belt of one, opened the nearest door, and Fred Stanley stepped forth. He then noiselessly opened the other two, and Nugent Percival and Gus made their appearance. Joe made a motion for them to be silent, and lifting the lamp, beckoned them to follow. "Wait here a minute," said Joe, when they ar- rived before the useful little side door, as he opened it and disappeared. "That small youth is worth his weight in dia- monds," remarked Gus, as Joe disappeared. "He reminds me strangely of some one I've seen before," said Percival; "but whom I can- not recollect." "Just fancy De-Lisle's disappointment when he comes back, losing his prisoners and his bride ! Eh, Stanley?" said Gus. "What?" said Fred, rousing with a start from a dream of Edith. The Escape. 51 "Ah! I fancy I know where your thoughts ^ere that time," said Gus, while Percival smiled jlightly, but said nothing. ''Here we are," said Joe, reappearing, followed )y Edith, wrapped in a large cloak, and leaning m the arm of Elva. There was but little time for congratulations. [As the whole party passed through the gate, Joe [gave Elva a nudge in. the ribs, saying, in a very audible whisper : '••" • "S'posin' you and me goes and gets spliced right off! Whereas the use losin* time?" **Thank you ; I guess I won*t mind it just now I" said Elva, laughing and blushing, as she caught the dark eye of yoiing Percival fixed upon her with a look of decided amusement. "We part here then," said Joe, extending his hand. "Good-by, Elva. Have you no message to send to Glory Ann?" To the surprise of all, he had suddenly lost his peculiar nasal twang. Fred, who had been watching him earnestly, came forward, and lay- ing his hand on Joe's shoulder, said : Turther disguise is unnecessary. I know «i you r> Joe laugHed, and colored slightly, as he lifted his cap and removed his wig, and in spite of the dye on his face, they beheld and recognized the merry face and black eyes of Nell Percival ! I :>i CHAPTER V. -' THE JOURNEY HOME. iNflf" r :.! ill-. ! ::s:: - "-tt- "Oh, she is a shrewd one!— as keen as a briar: Though her Hps pout with love, they can curl with disdain ; And her eye, now so soft, can shoot qivering fire. Ah! she's a shrewd one!"— J. W. H. "Nell, by all that's glorious!" exclaimed Gus, 'Ts it possible !" ejaculated Edith, almost trans- fixed with amazement. •., *T thought I had heard that voice before," said Nugent, scarcely less astonished. *Ts-she a girl or a boy?'' said Elva, turning from one to the other, completely bewildered. ''A girl, my dear, a girl!" said Nell gayly ; *'and I hope you won't forget you've promised to marry me. If you do, why then I'll call you out, and we'll have pistols before coffee, as sure as shoot- ing." **But Glory Ann/' said Elva. "Ah, yes — poor thing! But we won't pursue the harrowing subject just now, having no time to lose," said Nell Then, lowering her voice, she added hurriedly: "Can you give me other garments? I don't wish — that is -" "Oh, to be sure!" interrupted Elva; "we will help .ourselves , to horses from De Lisle's stables^ The jLfurne\ Ilonnr 53 and you can conie home with me while the rest wait in the forest. V\'e won't he long." A few minutes saw them on their way, Nell and Elva far ahead of the rest. . "We had better wait for them here," said Per- cival, suddenly halting. *'Who would ever think Nell so clever?" said Gus, in a tone of delight. ^'Seeing that cleverness does not generally run in our family," said Nugent, laughing. ''Ton niy honor, I'd never imagine it. She visited me daily, too, and I gave her a decided blowing up once or twice," said GuS; ''She told me of that," said Edith smiling, "and seemed quite indignant about it.". "I say, Edith, who is that pretty little dear she has gone off with?" inquired Percival. "Why, it's Elvena Snowe, the daughter of one of De Lisle's men, for whose unfailing kindness I shall ever be grateful," replied Edith. "I hope we will not be kept here much longer," said Gus. "Had I not better ride forward and meet them?" "Meet them — meet Nell, you mean," said Per- cival, laughing. "Here they come," said Fred, whose quick ear had caught the ^ound of horses' feet in the distance. In a few moments more the young girls rode <-rr i ii 54 lie Journey Home. up. Nell arrayed in a neatly-fitting riding habit of Elva's, the bright face flushed a little now that the paint wab off, as they could see even in the moonlight. * ^ .« **I have coaxed Elva to come back and bid you all good-by/* said Nell. *' Would you believe it, she actually did not wish to come !** *'You would not have treated us that way, dear Elva," said Edith, kissing her fair brow. "How I wish you could come home with us altogether !" "Yes, do, Elva ; we*ll have such glorious times ; you and I and — Glory Ann!" coaxed Nell. *'I cannot," said Elva, almost sadly; **but I hope to see you all once mere. You had better hasten now — delay is dangerous." The adieux were hastily spoken. Waving her hand in a last f arcv/ell, Elva turned and i ode off down the forest path. There was silence for a while, during which the party gained the high road, Ntll in advance, between Gus ano her brother, and Fred and Edith following rapidly. "And now, Nell, tell us about this strange af- fair of your masquerade," said Gus,, at length. "Well, it's nothing to make a fuss about," said Neil. "I suppose I needn't tell you that when you went off that day, you didn't come back as we expected. Papa was away, and mamma was making a great t?me about it. I cried to cheer The Journey Home. 55 her up, but 'twas all of no use; she insisted the whole four of you must be dead." "Ton my honor, we came pretty near it," said Gus. ''Well, the day passed, and none of you came. j Mamma was in a dreadful way, to be sure, and ' some of her friends came to visit and console her. 'I knew she wouldn't want me, with so many to look after her, so I asked and obtained leave of absence for a week or two, and as 1 was always fond of adventure, I determined, like a second Don Quixote, to go off in search of you." ''Bravo, Nell!" exclaimed Percival. "I knew how to find the uld house, and felt pretty sure Edith was there, at least, though I confess I had my doubts whether you three had not been sent to 'kingdom come.' I determined to disguise myself; and, having colored my face, and procured that horrid tow wig, I dressed my- self in a suit of clothes procured for the occasion. Before venturing into the power of De Lisle, I determined to see if any one would recognize me, and I actually chatted for an hour with mamma, about the farm 'to hum,' and 'Glory Ann Lazybones,' without being recognized. So of cou.se I knew my d^'sgutse was perfect; and I came, saw, conquered. That's all!" *^My Jove! Nell," cried Gus, delightedly, "you're a " ,,-r-y 56 The Journey Home. 4y. -^;4.;Hr *'What?" said Nell. *'A regular stunner!" was the reply. **Well, I consider that anything but a compli- ment," said Nell; "and rest assured, Master Gus, I should never have taken the trouble of going there to save you, but as it was just the same to take you along with the rest, I thought I might as well do it. Being wonderfully amiable, I'm always willing to oblige people when it's no trou- ble to myself!" Conversing gayly thus, they rode along until the red hue of coming morn appeared in the east. ''Fred and Edith seem to have quite a nice time of it behind there," said Nell, looking back ; "I expect they're saying a lot of pretty things to each other." - r ^ ''Suppose we follow their example," said Gus. "Perhaps I am de trop," observed Percival, smiling. "Here they come !" said Nell ; "wonder if they overheard us?" At this moment Fred and Edith rode rapidly up. The keen dark eyes of Nell saw in a moment that her sister had been weeping, and that Fred looked unusually flushed and agitated. Extending his hand to Nell, he said briefly: "We part here, I believe. Allow me to bid you farewell." ^- What I going to leave us?" exclaimed Gus and Ihc Journey Home. 57 kepjy. ^"t a compii, P^ Master Gus ^ fst, t/ie same to ^ P"§-^t I might " ^^'s no trou- e along until '^ in the east. ,^"^'te a nice iookingback; -tty things to . ^ ■ ' ^ '■ ■- ■'" said Giis. ed Percival, ider if th ey ^^e rapidly ' 3 nioment that Fred I „■ ■ JPercival, while Nell, completely aslonished, si- ?lently retained his hand, and Edith bent her head still lower to hide her falling- tears. "Yes, I must be at N to-morrow," an- swered Fred. * ' "But I thought you were coming home with us," said Percival. "I regret I cannot do so. My presence here is no longer required, and business obliges me t ) go to N . Good-by, Miss Ellen," he added, with a smile, *'give my best wishes to Glory Ann. Farewell, Percival. Gus, when shall I expect to see you )»> ''Let's see, a week at the furthest," replied Gus. **Very well! Until then, au revoir! Adieu, Miss Percival." Her lips moved, but her reply was not audible. The next moment he was galloping rapidly off in the opposite direction. "Now, that's what I call real mean of him/' said Nell, pouting, ''to go off and leave us that v\ ay. I don't care if he was twice as handsome as he is, I wouldn't have anything to do with such a fiery-headed fellow for any possible in- ducement." 'Very glad to hear it, my dear," said Gus. 'Well then, you needn't be, my dear. For, indeed, Fd no more have you than him." ii^ c^^ ,^.-. -*t- 58 The Journey Home. "Oh, come now, Nell, you don't mean it!" "Oh, come now, Gus, 1 do mean it! And I'd thank you not to be so confident that I'm dying about you, for the future. If 1 choose to amuse myself flirting with you, for want of any one else, youVe not to imagine I care one pin for you, I'd have you know." "My dear Nell, if I thought you were serious, I'd take up the first broken ramrod I could find, and blow my brains out." "My dear Gus, you can do as you please ; only as you happen, unfortunately, to have no brains, I don't see how you're going to blow them out. Seems to me, if I were you, I'd try to blow a few in, instead of blowing them out." "Nell, be serious." "Gus, I am serious, awfully serious, as you'll find out to your cost." "I know you just do this to torment me, you little vixen. But do try and be good-natured for once, Nell; you know I must leave you in a day or two, *and be off to the wars again.' " "Dear knows, I'll be glad to be rid of you," said Nell, in all sincerity. Gus looked hurt, so much so, that Nell looked up, and exclaimed : "There, gracious me! You needn't look so sulky about it. Of course, I'll be glad when you go off, for all my other friends of the masculine The Journey Home. 59 persuasion were afraid to pay me the slightest attention, lest they should be wasting their 'sweetness on the desert air,' that is to say, on somebody else's property. And I'll tell you what you'll do, Gus," she added, as though struck by a sudden thought, "go off and try if you can't captivate Elva Snowe. She's a nice little thing, and almost as pretty as I." 'I'd rather have you, Nell." *'0h, I dare say; but you see you can't have me, Gus. It is not everybody in this vale of tears can get such a prize as I am, not to be egotistical. Well, dear me ! won't this be an adventure to talk of ? Why, I don't believe one of your wonderful Lady Aramintas in the romances could have done it better.*' ''Nor half so well, my dear." *'I always had an immense respect for Joan of Arc," went on Nell, *'but I'll begin to admire my- self after I perform two or three more wonderful deeds of arms. How hot it is! Poor Edith droops like a flower wilted in the sun." "I hope youVe not going to take to poetry, Nell ; if you do " "Don't be alarmed, Gus; I have too much re- spect for the feelings of my family to be guilty of such a thing; but poor Edith does look dread- fully used up." 'There is an inn not far from here," ob- 11- ^f■ 1: ^ "' i, '■*:■■ 1 : '■■■;(.' The Journey Home. serveJ Gus. "I think we can procure a carriage of some description there, that will convey you and Edith home. You must be tired, too, Nell.'' **Not a bit. Vm never tired, but we must try to get one for Edith. Walt, Ell tell her." Nell drew up, and v^'aited until the others had reached her, then in a few words she communi- cated her wishes to her brother. "Yes, that will be best," said Percival; "Edith does look v/orn out. How far is the inn from here, Gus?" "Not more than a mile," replied Gus, "we will soon reach it." •?- A few minutes br(>ught them to it, and after v.aiting for breakfast, they resumed tleir jour- ney, Edith and Nell comfortably seated in a light wagon, v/ith Gus driving, while Nugent j^alloped on *o announce the news at home. There was a joyful meeting at Percival Hall that night. Nell was decidedly the lion of the evening, and bore her honors with edifying in- difference. Major Percival, who had only re- turned a few hours before, was in raptures, and declared she was "every inch a Percival." Mrs. Percival gazed upon her with moistened eyes as she thought of the narrow escape of her children, and the numerous friends of the family were extravagant in their eulogisms of her conduct. Edith lay gu the sofa, utterly prostrated in / I The Journey Home. 6i riis, "we will body and mind, too wearied for the exertion of speaking, and with her eyes shut she Hstened, while her thoughts were far away. There was one wanting to make that family circle complete I — one whose name all avoided mentioning. A few days restored Edith to her wonted [health, again a solt bloom began to mantle her pale cheek, and her blue eyes grew bright and Iradiant once more. A happy circle gathered in [the parlor of Percival Hall each evening, the [past making it seem more happy by contrast. But leaving the inmates of Percival Hall, we [must follow the changing fortunes of Fred Stan* ley. 62 \ CHAPTER yi. THE hermit's prediction. *'My heart is with my native land, My song is for her glory; Her warriors* wreath is in my hand. My lips breathe out her story. Her lofty hills and valleys green Are smiling bright before me, And like a rainbow-sign is seen Her proud flag waving o'er me. The little village of Grassfield was in an un- usual state of excitement. Groups of old men,! boys, and women were scattered in every direc-| tion, talking over, with exultation, the latest news from the seat of war. A splendid victoryl had been gained by the American troops, thel news of which had just reached Grassfield; and! now the matter was being discussed in all its] bearings by the delighted villagers. In the barroom of the "Bottle and Bowl," thel one solitary inn which the village contained, was! assembled the collective wisdom of Grassfield] The hostess, a pretty little black-eyed woman,] bustled in and out, attending to her guests, oc- casionally stopping to glance in the cradle where! a tiny item of humanity lay, with wide open eyesJ making desperate exertions to swallow its own| tiny fists. The Hermit's Prediction. ^^3 The unusual sound of a horse galloping rap- idly along the street caused the whole assembly to rush pell-mell to the door. The horseman drew up, and consigning the animal to the hostler, passed through the gaping crowd, and entered the barroom. Pretty Mistress Rosie, the hostess, who was busily washing glasses behind the counter, no sooner beheld him than, with an exclamation of joy, she dropped her towel, and running forward seized him by both hands, exclaiming: ''Why, Mr. Fred, how do you do? I'm delighted to see you! I am indeed! Where have you been this long time ? Fighting with the rest, I suppose ! Well, well, who'd have thought it? Sit down, sit down ! Well, I declare, I am glad. -Did you see I my Josh lately? No, I s'pose you didn't though, I or he'd mentioned it. He's off, fighting like the jrest, he is indeed! I had a letter from him last Inight; and he says he's quite well, and expects to be home soon. Well, this is a surprise! pear me; how glad I am to see you. But sit down, la me! sit down, Mr. Fred. I declare, I I've kept you standing all this time!" And having by this time talked herself quite lout of breath, the bustling little woman danced put a chair, and nirtino^ her apron over it to blow hfT the dust, permitted Fred Stanley — for he it i^-.-as- -to sit down. 64 The Hermit's Prediction. i'V "And how are all my friends, Mrs. Wilde," he said with a smile ; "for yourself I need not ask J for I see you are looking as blooming and hand- some as ever." "Oh, to be sure," said the lively Uttle woman, "what would hinder me? All your friends are! well, too, and Betsey Higgins is married to the! tailor — you remember her, don't you? The little milliner that used to be in love with you. There, you needn't be laughing now; if you had been in I Betsey's place, I guess you wouldn't see anything m it to laugh at. But, bless me! I forgot to! show you the baby. He's named after you, too;' for everybody says he^s your born image." Fred laughed, as he glanced down at the little fat, red face, framed in an enormous cap frill. Mrs. Wilde — evidently delighted at the striking] resemblance between the tall form, and dark, handsome frace of Fred, and the little blinking atom, his namesake — lifted up the baby and de- posited him, with a jerk, into his arms. "There!" exclaimed; Mrs. Wilde, folding her arms and nodding her head in a very satisfied manner, "if he ain't your very picter. It takes after you everyway, too, for it's the quietest, blessedest, young one— »» Here a loud, shrill yell from the blessedest young one himself interrupted its mamma's eulo- gium. Fred, who seemed rather afraid of it Th€ HermWs Prediciion. ^5 e, foiaing her than otherwise, glanced apprehendingly at Mrs. Rosie. "Ah, you aggravatin' little monkey, you are," said that lady, snatching it from Fred with one hand and giving it a shake, "stop that yellin,* or ril give' you such a spankin' as ye never had in all your born days. There, lie in that, then, if you vfon't," she added, dropping it into the cradle, and leaving it to its own reflections. Baby, who seemed quite accustomed to this kind of treatment, immediately stopped crying, and became so absorbed in contemplating its own little fat fists as to forget all minor considera- tions. "I suppose, Mr. Fred, youVe going to stay all night?" inquired Mrs. Wilde, resuming the wash- ing of her tumblers. "I rather think not," said Fred doubtfully, "my horse is lame, so I was forced to come here. If I find he is well enough to proceed I will go on. a "If not, you'll stay; so we needn't thank you for your company," broke in the little hostess. "Hark! Here's somebody else, as I live, I never did know one to come unexpected, but another was sure to follow. Who's this I won- der?" The wonder was spes;dily solved, for a, youf^ 66 The Hermit's Prediction. :la man with an exceedingly soldierlike air walked | the next instant into the barroom. "Ah, is it possible? Captain Rogers, my dear I fellow," said Fred, springing up and extending! his hand. ''Stanley! What in the name of all that's] wonderful, drove you here ?" exclaimed the new- comer in surprise. "Where did you expect I would be?'* said Fred,| smiling at his look of astonishment. "With your regiment, to be sure! But holdl on; I haven't seen my old sweetheart Rosie, yet. Ah! Rosie, here you are, as pretty as ever I see. Why didn't you send me an invitation to the! wedding? Well, never mind, it's not too late| to salute the bride yet!" A sound box on the ear was his reward, whilel Mrs. Rosie's cheeks grew most becomingly red. "What's this?" said the young man, who bore| the little woman's indignation with most exem- plary coolness, as his eye fell on the cradle — I *'a baby! La! What a comical little concern !| I say, Rosie, you don't mean to say — ft But Rosie, who wasn't going to put up with his. impudence, administered another box on the ear with no very gentle hand and, seizing bal)y,| immediately decamped. Captain Rogers looked after her and Lw;;!? "Did you know, Fred, Rosie and I ko CM'ii The Hermit's Prediction. like air walked ■ — 67 be?" said Fred, r and lau^'l quite a spirited flirtation winter before last. Ton my honor, I was quite spooney about her one time, too, but Josh Wilde came along and cut me out/* *1 never knew you when you weren't spooney about some one," said Fred. ''Oh, to be sure! there's nothing like it. Don't you know what the song says ?" "I am in love with twenty, I could adore as many more; There's nothing like a plenty." "You hardly find as much time to flirt now as you used to, I fancy," said Fred. "Why no, not quite; but when an opportunity presents itself, I always improve it. By the way, Fred, they say old Percival has two or three very pretty daughters. Pshaw, man! Never redden so; I intend to cultivate the old gentleman the first chance I get, for the sake of ma'amselle Es- telle — Edith — what's her name?" "You may spare yourself the trouble, my very dear friend. She would not notice you." "Don't believe it," said Captain Rogers, glanc- ing at the mirror. "Never knew a female heart could resist me yet ! But nous verrons mon ami! When have you seen Ralph de Lisle?" Fred started at the name. "Why, what of him?" he demanded. m The Hermit's Prediction. *'Oh, nothing, only they <^y youVe cut him out t! re. Serv " hin^ ir.ij, t.-o; he's an infernal villain!" fc^ ''Have you seen him latc<^ "^" said Fred, biting his lips to repress his impatience. **Saw him yesterday with young Bates, out on some expedition of mischief. But, Stanley, is it really true that you've won his ladylove from him ?" "Captain Rogers, if you wish us to remain friends, you will say no more on this subject," said Fred sternly. "Whew!" with a prolonged whistle. "YouVe confoundedly touchy, Stanley. Well, that's one proof you're guilty. And now may I ask if I can do so without offending you, whither are you bound?" "To N to join my regiment. >» ti^ <»' That's lucky! Are you in much of a hurry?" 'Why, no; not particularly." Then might I ask you to grant me a. favor?" "Certainly, my dear Rogers; anything in my power. " "Thank you, thank you," said Rogers eagerly. "These dispatches I have been ordered to convey to Colonel M ; but an affair of a most press- ing nature requires my presence in another direc- tion. Now if you would deliver them you would render me an inestimable service." The Hi mit's Prediction. 69 "With i*i\ my hea't. • ly gtjud fellow. Stand land deliver." "It's rather a dangerous business," said Rogers, drawing a formidable looking document from his breast pocket. "You will have to make your way through the forest to reach Colonel M 's quarters; and there are lurking parties lof Indians and Tories forever prowling " "Say no moie about it," interrupted Fred. "I [am too well accustomed to danger to fear it; be- sides, who would shun danger in the service of |his country?" "You will start to-night I suppose?" "Oh, certainly; there is no time to lose. Here I comes our pretty hostess, so hot a word!" "Well, Rosie, I'll take a drink and be off. I What have you done with that pocket edition of Josh Wilde?" "None of your business, W^ill Rogers," replied Rosie saucily. "Here, take this, and be off; I I can't be bothered with you." Captain Rogers laughed, drained the glass she I handed to him, chucked her under the chin, shouted a careless good-by to Fred, sprang on his horse, and amid many an admiring glance from the bright eves of the village damsels rode loff. "I think I had better follow him," roiiiarkcd Fred, turning carelessly from the. window. m 70 The Hermit's Prediction. ^« \ "You'll wait for dinner, won't you?" said Rosie. "Come now, I'll take no refusal. I have ever so many things to say to you. There, I knew you would," she added, as Fred smiled. "Just walk into the parlor, dinner'll be ready in a minute." So saying she laughingly pushed Fred into the parlor, closing the door behind her, and leaving him to amuse himself during her absence as best he might. Fred seated himself, and taking up a volume of Goldsmith^s works was soon absorbed in the pages of "She Stoops to Conquer," when the door opened and Mistress Rosie stood before him. "There's a gentleman out here inquiring for you, Mr. Fred," said the little hostess. "For me?" said Fred, in surprise. "Who can it be?" "He looks like some of those old robbers in the pictures," said Mrs. Wilde, "with a long cloak wrapped around him, and his hat pulled way down over his eyes. Will I show him in ?" "I suppose so," said Fred, inwardly wonder- ing who the mysterious personage could be. The door opened, and the figure of a man wrapped in a long, black cloak, with his hat pulled far down over his eyes, stood before him. The Hermit's Prediction. 71 "To whom am I indebted for the honor of this visit?" said Fred, rising. "To a friend, young- man; one who is no stranger to you." He moved his hat, and Fred beheld the white locks of the Hermit of the CHffs. "A friend you have indeed proved to me, good father," said Fred, frankly extending his hand. **Even now you were in my thoughts, though I hardly expected the honor of this visit." "You will ever find me near you when danger is at hand," said the hermit. "Danger?" said Fred. "And what danger threatens me now?" "A soldier's life is always dangerous," replied the old man evasively; ^'especially with so many enemies as you have." "Let it come then," said Fred carelessly. "I am too well accustomed to danger to shrink from it now." "Perhaps you think you carry a charmed life," said the hermit; **and that because you have escaped the bullet of the executioner, and the halter of De Lisle, you can rush into greater dangers, and come forth scatheless. Young man, 1 say to you, beware! Last night, when the stars rode in solemn splendor through the heav- ens, I read your fate. All was dark and omi- nous. The shadozv of the scaffold fell redly across your path. The steel of the assassin is X ^2 The Hcrmii's Prediction. mi 1 -* ! im sharpened for the heart of one you love, and for the crime of another shall you die. Again I say to you, beware! Be warned in time, else you shall repent it when too late I" The deep, intense, passionate solemnity with which he spoke awed involuntarily the fearless heart of Fred. A sensation of fear, not for himself, but for one dearer than all the world beside, crept over him. *'01d man!" he exclaimed, seizing him by the ■wrist with a viselike grip, ''who is this for whom the steel of the assassin is prepared? Speak, and tell me, for I must know.'* "That I saw not," replied the hermit calmly. "Can the lips of man reveal what the stars speak not? Guard against the danger which hangs over yourself, and trust the rest to a higher power." "Psha! I might have known 'twas but silly raving," said Fred, shaking off the superstitious feeling that had for a moment overcome him. 'Tf you have nothing more definite than this to warn me against, good father, I fear your words .have been in vain." "And you'll not be warned?" said the old man sadly. *Tt is only when the danger is at hand you will believe me? Did I not warn you be- fore, and did not my words prove true? Have you forgotten your powerful enemy, Dc Lisle?" The Hermit's Prediction. 73 "1 am not likely to iorgct him; but 1 fear him not," said Fred scorniully. "So you said before," said the hermit calmly; 'and yet you fell in his power, and would have died by his hand, but for the heroism of a young girl. The same thing may happen again, when there will be no one at hand to aid you." ''Forewarned is forearmed," said Fred. ''Ralph de Lisle will find it: not so easy to get me once more within his clutches; and should we ever meet in open warfare, then, good father, you will find it your duty to bid him beware in- stead of me!" • "Rash youth! You cannot I'ead the book of fate as I can," said the hermit sorrowfully. ''Again I tell you, danger is at hand — nay, hangs over your head, and over one for whom you would give your life. Tn the hour of doom you cannot say there was n. one to warn you of your danger." The tone of profound melancholy in which the last words were uttered touched Fred. Not that he believed w^hat the old man said, his words he considered the mere idle raving of a moon- struck idiot, who warned him of danger after hearing of his narrow escapes, and knowing De Lisle was still his enemy. But his evident affec- tion for him and interest in his fate reached his heart. **^'i^^«/-..^ ►,■* -t> iJ>K ?^.' ms ;:Rilfe 74 The Hermit's Prediction. ' "Accept, at least, my thanks for the interest you manifest in me," said Fred; ''although I may never make use of your warning, I feel grateful to you for it. And now^ let me ask you why should you care so much for one who is a stranger to you, and whose father you have spoken of in the most opprobrious terms?" A moment after he was sorry he had asked a question which seemfed to act like a galvanic shock on the hermit, whose head fell heavily on his closed hands, while his whole frame quivered with emotion. *'My dear sir," said Fred, starting up, "if I have said anything to hurt your feelings, believe me it was quite unintentional, and I am sincerely sorry for it." "Say t\o more, say no morei" said th(? hermit, raising his head, and startling the young man by the deadly paleness of his face. '1 am sub- ject to these sudden shocks, and do not mind them. Some day, perhaps, before I die, should you survive me, you will know who I am. But until that time comes, let what you already know of me sulilce. You think me crazed — perhaps I am; but there is at least 'method in my mad- ness.' Believe me to be your friend — your best friend on earth. You say you are a stranger to me. Believe it not. Long before you saw me, I knew you; and vhen you least fancied it, I The Hermit's Prediction, 73 have been watching over you. I ask neither your love nor confidence in return. Should we both live, the time will come when you will give both willingly. And now, farewell! I have come to warn you, but you heeded not my words. In the hour of your darkest trial, when your summer friends desert you in the winter of affliction, I shall be near. 'When danger threatens, look for me. Until then, farewell." He wrapped his cloak around him, drew his hat down over his eyes, bowed with dignity and was gone ere Fred could frame an answer. "Strange being!*' thought the young man, throwing himself into a seat, and leaning his head on his hand. "How dark and mysterious are his words! Can it be that that simple old man really reads the secrets of futurity? Thou hast hidden from the wise and prudent, and re- vealed unto babes.' Wonderful being! Will those ominous predictions come true? I have already seen his words verified, and why may not those likewise? 'The shadow of the scaffold falls across my path.' Well, though I have escaped twice, I begin to think I have been born for a halter, after all. I can easily account for my narrow escape from shipwreck by the wise old proverb, that any one born to be hanged will never be drowned. It's a pleasant anticipation, truly." 76 The Hermit's Prediction. *'VVhy, Mr. Fred, you look as dismal as if you had lost your last relation,' said the merry voice of Rosie Wilde, breaking in upon his reverie. "Goodness gracious me ! Have you seen a ghost, or are you thinking of suicide? If you arc, I've a bottle of lodlnm out in the bar that will send you sleeping comfortably to the other world in less jthan no time. Ha ! ha ! ha !" "Egad! I've a strong notion to follow her ad- vice, and cheat Jack Ketch, after all," muttered Fred. "Well, dinner's ready, so never mind talking to yourself just now, for fear I might overhear you. So come along." Fred laughingly accompanied Mrs. Wilde to the dining room, where they sat down to a con^- fortable meal, to which both did ample justice. An hour after, as Fred stood in the parlvr with Mrs. Wilde, previous to startirig, anothtr horseman galloped up and alighted at the inn door. "I'll have General Washington himself hero next, I expect," said Mrs. Wilde, who was rock- ing the cradle. "Your coming brought them all, 1 think; for I haven't liad so many visitors be- fore this month of Sundavs." ^'Landlady !" called a" high, imperious voice, that made Fred .^tnrt and flush to the temples. The Hermit's Prediction. 77 jUovv her ad- p/' muttered lind talking M overhear •s. Wilde to 'n to a coni- •le justice. the parK.r ttg", another at the inn mself here > was roek- n them all, visitors be- ous voice, emples. •'Coming, coming!" answered Mrs. Wilde, hur- rying from the room. Half an hour passed by. Fred stood with his arms folded across his breast, all his indifference gone, and a look of fierce sternness and intense hatred on his face. Well he recognized that voice. *'Gone at last," said Mrs. Wilde, again mak- ing her appearance. Fred looked out, a young man passed out of the door, sprang on his horse and rode off, but not before Fred had caught a full view of his face. It was Ralph de Lisle. ''Well, I regret to say I must leave you now, Mrs. Wilde," said Fred, turning from ,lhe win- dow, and striving to banish the shadow that had gathered on his brow. ''Very sony to hear it," said Mrs. Rosie, "but I hope to see you soon again." "Rest assured of that, my dear madam," said Fred. "I shall certainly visit my little namesake' as soon as may be. Good-by until we meet again." Raising the plump little hand she extended to his lips, Fred passed out, sprang on his horse, and vvas soon out of sight, while the pretty little hostess of the "Bottle and Bowl" stood in the doorway, watching him until he disappeared. w^^^ 78 The Hermit's Prediction. Night found him making his way slowly and with difficulty along the slippery forest path in the direction pointed out by his friend, Captain Rogers. It was a gloomy, disagreeable night. A drizzling rain was falling, a cold wind was sighing drearily through the trees. There was no light, save the faint glow of the spectral moon, as she lifted her wan face over the bleak tree tops, through the dark clouds that scudded across the sky. Urging his horse with rein and spur, Fred bent his head to the storm, and proceeded slowly onward. There was a strange presentiment of evil hanging over him, an oppression of spirits he had never felt before. It might have been caused by the words of the hermit, his chance glimpse of De Lisle, which he felt half inclined to consider an omen of evil, or it might have been caused by the dismal night and the lonely patn he was pursuing. He strove to shake off these superstitious fancies, knowing there might be more tanj/.ble evils at hand, for there were al- ways lurking bodi*^:.' of Indians prowling about in the words. Now and then the cry of some wild an'ni ii ^^ oviki break upon his ear, making his horse .u^ t arni snort vith terror, but no enemy had i*i^^l.:'>;''d Ivm, and ere morning he trusted to be fir ironi danger. Suddenly an abrupt turn in the road broughl 'ly and >ath in 'aptain was [re was moon, ik tree across [» Fred slowly ent of spirits fe been chance iclined e been '' patn these ht be re al^ about some iking t no r he The Hermit's Prediction, 79 him in view of a scene that made him draw back in alarm. In the center of a large semicircle, evidently the work of Nature, a large fire was burning. Gathered around it were* some twenty half- naked painted savages, who, with a large keg, which Fred well knew contained rum, were evi- dently bent upon making a night of it, in spite of the inclemency of the weather. To escape without being discovered was now Fred's idea. He turned noiselessly to proceed in another direction, but his horse reared at the sudden blaze of light, and gave a loud neigh of fear. It reached the keen ears of the Indians. Snatching up their weapons, they sprang to their feet, while a series of diabolical yells rent the air, followed by an ominous silence. ighl CHAPTER VII. THE STAKE. "Through the leafy halls of the wilcf old wood, Rang an echo full and free. To the bavage shout of a tearful band. As they bound the white *nan foot and hand To the sacriftciai tree." — H. Marion Stephens.. Escape was now out of the question. Re- solveH to sell his life as dearly as possible, Fred drew his pistols, and two of the foremost sav- ages, with wild howls, bi' the g^round. Mad- dened by the sight, the remainder sprang fiercely upon him, and in spite of his desperate resist- atli:e, he was overpowered by numbers and se- curely bound. They next turned theit^ attention to their fallen companions. One of them was only wounded, but the other was quite dead. A long, low wail was heard, as he who appeared to be their chief touched the fresh scalp lock which dangled at his belt. The savages now gathered In a cluster, and appeared to hold a consultation, while Fred, bound to a tree, inwardly wondered what Dame Fortune had in store for him next. In the red light of the fire, the scene resembled one of vScil- vator Rosa's wild paintings. The dark, gloomy The Stake. 8i ,„rest in the ^^^^-^^^J;''^t. 1^^. ,i„d sighed a d-|e^'^;^^^^^^^^^ bodies of his '"'? ^^"''led^elKedy for the result of this con- Fred waited eageny ^^^ f erence. Now and *^" "^p^ke in their fierce exclamation, ^f J^^ ^^^Jrstood not a own language, he, of ^^Tc'at a look directed ^ord. Often, too he would ca^l^a ,^^.,, to himself that boded ^^1^^"^^,,,^,^^; for, seemed to have arnved at some c ^^^^ ^^^^^^ ;£S^rt^SS savage, upon him -ssw^--tir-t: He seemed to h^^j^Lserwherever the fickle hands of Fate, to^y-^teTof the Indians he goddess willed. I" !"" ^ ^ ^^d bloody, must well knew that deaji, speeay ^^^^^ be his doom. Death and he had ^ ^^^ face to face for h.m to shnnk f ro ^^ ^^^^ die thus, afar from a« ^^^^^ ^^^^.^st heart, for him, might have f'^f '^ ^.ting for his To die on the fi«l\°^„X ' Jut such a death country, would have been glory >^^^ ^^ ^^ as he well knew -- "^ ^"g.f ,f Edith, freed indeed appalling. He t^ g ^.^^^ tiappy at from the power of her moii ^ 82 The Stake. ^:- home, and wondered if she would ever hear of his fate. He thought of the mysterious hermit, and of h:"'' dark prediction of coming danger so soon fulfilled. He turned his eyes to where sat his captors. Some of them, overpowered by the effects of the Tire water, were stretched on the ground asleep, looking like dark statues in their rigid repose i lie others still sat drinking, some whooping an< yelling fearfully in their intoxication, the rest silently staring at them, evidently more than half stupefied. Fred's positior was painful in the extreme. The ligatures which bound his wrists behind him were tied so tightly that they seemed cutting their way into the flesh. His position was painfully constrained, his head being the only portion of his body he could move. To add to his sufferings, the storm, which had for several hours been threatening, now burst in all its fury. A blaze of lightning, so vivid that it seemed as though the heavens were one vast sheet of flame, followed by a terrific crash of thunder and flood of rain, and the storm was upon them in full fury. Roused from their slum- bers, the stunned and half -dm ken savages gath- ered together in evident g lay. The win(^ howled a perfect l«>r'iado, nc lightning stil flashed in one continu.. glare, the thunder pealed The Stake. 83 as though the heavens wef e rending asunder, and the rain fell in torrents. A tall tree, scarcely three yards from where Fred stood, was shivered to atoms by a blinding flash, and another waf. torn violently up by the roots and hurled almoiit at his feet. For nearly two hours the storm continued in all its fury. Then the sullen clouds began slowly to break away, the lightning still flashed, but at rare i^atervals; the thunder growled far off in the distance, the wind abated its fury, and though the rain still fell, it was no longer in drenching torrents. The savages recovering from the ef- fects of their first alarm, and still stupid with liquor, again stretched themselves on the wet ground, and soon lay motionless, like hideous fig- ures in wax. Fred, wet, cold, and benumbed, stood waiting the approach of day. His arms felt as though they were dead, having swollen from being so tightly bound. As he thought of the fearful fate for which he was most probably reserved, )ie had more than once during the raging of the storm wished that some friendly flash of light- ning had freed his spirit and borne him from their power. The hours of that dreary night wore on, but Fred thought it the longest he had ever known. The gray light of morning at last stole over the /^ The Stake. tree tops, coming slowly and unwillingly, as though reluctant to behold the disasters of the preceding night. Fred recollected that at that time, twenty-four hours before, he had bade adieu to Edith, and something akin to despair filled his heart as the certainty that he should never see her again stole over him. His captors had by this time arisen, and were now busily engaged in making their morning meal. This over, some of them went in search of their horses where they had left them the pre- ceding night, while two others approached the prisoner, and having unfastened the thongs which bound him, placed before him a sort of hard, coarse cake made of Indian corn, a gourd filled with water, and made signs for him to eat. It Avas some time before he could comply, for his hands were stiff and benumjjed, and the food none of the most palatable. Knowing, however, that Nature must be sustained, he essayed to eat; and bv the time he had finished his meal the rest returned witli the horses. Fred was permitted to mount his own horse; and with one of his captors on each side of him they dashed off at a rapid gallop. They rode on for several hours, avoiding with the utmost care all white settlements, and a little before noon they halted at a running stream to rest their wearied animals. Fred alighted, and ,^'»' Tke Stake. H ► of the at that id bade despair should id were lorning search he pre- led the thongs 5ort of gourd , to eat. ) ly, for e food vever, o eat; il the orse ; " him with little n to and was bound as l>e£ore to prevent his escaping, while his captors once more regaled theuiselves. with their coarse food. All traces of the previous night's stonu had now vanished. The sun shone in unclouded splendor, and at any other time Fred would have admired the beautiful scene around him, but now his eyes were fixed on his captors. They were a savage, bloodthirsty looking set, hideously painted and frightfully ugly, looking fiercer and more barbarous in the clear light o£ day than when he had seen them first. They ate in solemn silence, and having finished again mounted and rode off, seldom speaking save when he who appeared to be their chief addressed to them a few brief words, evidently concerning their joui''ney. Toward evening the party halted, and made preparations for the night. Fred was again, l)ound, l)ut in such a manner as would permit him to lie down. The savages then proceeded ; to kindle a fire ; and seating themselves around it, after partaking of their evening meal, of which Fred received a share, they stretched themselves on the damp earth and were soon buried in sleep, with the exception of one who remained to keep guard. » . It was a lovely night. The moon rode in ra- diant l>rightness through the blue arch of heaven. ^>. .o^.. \%^'.^-'^-. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 7 A // ,^ ..^' A 1.0 I.I ^IM 12.5 us. y£ I Ui Hi !r 140 1.8 11.25 ■ 1.4 i 1.6 V] <^ /2 % /a '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 86 Th'e Stake. One by one the solemn stars came out, looking with their pitying eyes on the pale face of the captive. The cool south wind lifted his long, dark locks off his noble brow. The air was re- dolent with the odor of flowers, and with a sing- song sound in his ears. Fred fell asleep. And sleeping, he dreamed. Once again in fancy he stood by the side of Edith, whispering in her ear ''the tale which ladies love to hear." Suddenly a shadow fell across the path. Edith was torn from his side, and with the rapidity of thought he found himself swinging by the neck from a halter. A shriek of mortal agony reached his ears, and looking down he beheld Edith struggling in the arms of De Lisle, now transformed into a painted savage. With a start he awoke, to find his dream in part realized. The red hue of coming morn was already crim- soning the sky. His captors were up and gath- ered together in a circle, as if holding a consulta- tion. Among them, Fred beheld the fierce faces of three or four of De Lisle's Tory band; and standing above him, with his arms folded across his breast, and a look of fiendish triumph on his face, Ralph de Lisle himself. ^'So," said De Lisle, slowly hissing the words through his closed teeth, "so, Fred Stanley, we have met again." ''So it seems," replied Fred, calmlx-. The Stake. 87 [king the long, re- 5ing- in inng ''You see, sir, you are in the hands of Fate, and that you cannot escape me. No doubt you fancied, when you so cleverly freed yourself from my power, that you were safe. Now you are convinced of your mistake. Since our last meet- ing, I have daily prayed I might soon hold you in my clutches once more, and now my prayer is granted." ''Which proves that your master, the devil, is good to his own," said Fred. "You are pleased to be facetious, my good friend. Well, I can excuse that in one whose hours are numbered. Fred Stanley, Dame For- tune has favored you long. One time I almost fancied you bore a charmed life; but Fate can bear you no further than the end, and your hour has come. For your present risk you have no one to thank but yourself, and, being such a hot- headed fool, our dusky friends yonder will pre- vent your getting into any more scrapes, by send- ing you to heaven where you belong, the first opportunity. Dream no longer that you can escape. Y^onder sun, which is rising, you v. Ill never see set. Ere three hours we will have reached the Indian village, where the stake is prepared, and your doom is sealed. No power, either in heaven or earth, can save you now. And if as you say, the devil is my master, I most sincerely thank him for preserving you 88 I he Stake. from the rope, since it has reserved you for the iar more horrible fate of death by slow torture. 1 shall faithfully, like a true friend, stand by you to the last, and witnessing your death agony con- sole you by the agreeable information, that in spite of Fate, Edith Percival shall yet be mine. Doubtless she imagines, as you did a few hours ago, that she has eseaped me forever. Like you, she will iind her mistake ere long; and 1 swear she shall repent in dust and ashes for her scorn of me. Ha! You change color. I thought that would touch you. I see you can fear for her though not for yourself. Well, every indignity that woman can endure shall be hers, until your dainty ladylove shall weep for the hour she was born." De Lisle paused, while his eyes actually blazed. An infernal spirit might have envied the dia- bolical triumph that shone in his face. "Villain! Monster! Devil!" cried Fred, al- most maddened by his words. "An hour of fear- ful reckoning will yet come for all this." "You are disposed to moralize, my dear Stan- ley," said De Lisle, with his usual mocking sneer. "Well, doubtless the near approach of death does incline men that way. As for the future reck- oning you threaten me with, believe in it if yon will ; as for me, I have a spirit above such hypo- critical whining and preacher's cant. However, The Stake. 89 th cm I will not argue the matter now, as in a few hours you will have an opportunity of knowing which of us is right, if, when you reach the other world, you really do see the gentleman in ijlack — uiy master, you know — just give him my compliinent>, and tell him I trust he will always remain as true to me as he has up to the present. Ah! Here comes my friend, Long Knife — sug- gestive name, isn't it? I will leave you to medi- tation and prayer, hoping you will offer up a good word for Edith and me, while I consult with yon- der dusky chieftain/' And lifting his hat with mock politeness, De Lisle turned on his heel and strode away. It winild be impossible to give an idea of the torrent of fier}-, passionate, maddening thoughts that leaped in burning chaos through the brain <;^ iMcd. The image of Edith in the power of De Lisle, that demon in human form, was ever hef(M-e him. And he knew of the fate in store for Irm-. and yet was unable to assist her. He grew maddened, frenzied at the thought, and struggled to burst his bonds until, finding all his efforts ineffectual, he sank back exhausted. Standing at a few yards distant, talking to an Indian who, from the number of feathers waving from his scalp lock, appeared to be a chief of unusual distinciion, stood De Lisle. He saw the impression his words had made, and the [)0 The Stake. smile of gratified hatred on his hps and the hght of triumphant malice in his eyes made him aj^pear more of a demon than ever. After a few moments rapid conversation the parties separated, and, mounting their horses, prepared to start. Fred rose as before, guarded by two of the Indians. De Lisle put himsjli at the head of his own men, not more than licilf a dozen in number, and all dashed off. For over three hours they rode on rapidly, and almost in silence. Now and then De Lisle would turn to converse with the man Paul Snowe, who formed one of his party, but this was only at intervals, and each seemed too much absorbed in his own reflections to talk. At length, as they reached the summit of ^i high hill, the whole party drew rein and paused for a moment. Below them lay an Indian vil- lage, enveloped by hills, and forming a sort of circle of thirty huts or thereabouts. The whole population of the village seemed to have turned out to meet them, and with wild shouts more than half of Fred's captors dashed off, leavins^ him with De Lisle's men and the others to follow more slowly. As Fred neared the village he turned to gaze on them, and was forced to think that a more repulsive-looking set he had never beheld. The women were even worse than the men, with their The Stake. 91 [ight >ear the [ses, (ded n !: liaJf flat, unintellectual-looking faces, dirty persons, and savage, unpitying eyes. Every look was bent upon him as he rode past, but all were fierce and stern, and even the children seemed to glare with their dark eyes as fiendishly as their parents. One of the Indians made a sign for Fred to dismount, and bidding him follow, led the way toward one of the huts, the crowd opening right and left to allow them to pass. Pushing aside the skin which served for a door, he motioned him to enter, and then binding him hand and foot, he seated himself beside the entrance to keep guard, his scowling black eyes fixed on his prisoner, with the steady gaze of a basilisk. Fred had made no resistance, knowing it would be worse than useless; and now he sat with his eyes fixed upon the ground, striving to collect his thoughts and think calmly. In vain ; all was wild confusion in his heart and brain ; everything seemed red and dancing before his eyes. Death, death ! seemed written in fiery characters every- where he turned. Never had he felt so dreadful a certainty that his last hour was come, than when sitting there expecting each moment to be led forth to the stake. He felt at that bit- ter moment that De Lisle's words were true, and that it would have been better to have died by the halter than to be reserved for the fearful doom now in store for him. His bodilv suffe v 92 7u' Stake. "I ing almost e(iualed the mental, for the ligcitures which bound him were cutt'ng into the quivering flesh, and his posture was so constrained that he could not move, lie strove to pray, but the hated image of De Lisle, at such times, would rise be- fore him, driving away the pitying form of his good angel, and filling his mind with fierce, bit- ter thoughts. And so two or three hours parsed away. His savage jailer still crouched at the entrance, glar- ing upon him Avith his eyes of fire, his half-naked body and scarred face giving him the ap])ea;'ance of some hideous painting, rather than a living man. Now and then a bright ray of sunshine would steal in through some chink, falling like an angel hand on the black, glossy locks of the captive. There was a drowsy stillness in the air, rendered more oppressive by the dull, monot- onous hum that came from the village. At length a profound stillness for a feWj,moinents succeeded. Fred listened in wonder, nnd even his guard betrayed some sign of interest. They could almost hear each other breathe, so pro- found was the stillness, when, lo! a yell so fierce, so savage, so diabolical that it seemed to come from the depths of Pandemonium, broke upon their ears. With an amwering cry the Indian guard sprang to his feet and turned to Fred with such a look of fiendish triumph that he m The Stake. y3 could no longer doubt what these shouts pur- I'orted. They were his death warrant. A niunient after and the skin at the entrance was biu'^-t rudely aside, and two (ierce-lookiiig warriors entered and spoke a lew words to tlie guard, who ininiediately rushed hum the hut. Then approaching Fred, they seA ered his b(^nds ,^u{\ made sij^'us for him to rise. With some diff> (uhy^he obeyed, lor his limbs were cramped and painful in the extreme. Then njoiioning him to follow they led the wav into the air. It was a golden summer day. The sun shone in a sky of unclouded blue, and poured a glow of light and heat over the green earth. The air was heavy with the odor of flowers, and the clear chirping of numberless birds mingled gently with the dreamy murmur of the trees. Never had Nature appeared so lovely to him be- fore, as he cast one long, last, lingering look around. A series of unearthly yells greeted him as he appeared. The whole population of the village, warriors, squaws, and papooses, had assembled around a large stake firmly driven in the yield- ing earth, and were glaring upon him with their fierce eyes. Around the stake w^a? a pile of fagots ready 1o be set on fire, and leading him toward it they bound his arms firmly behind him to the stake. 94 The Stake. ■ ' I. V ■ * • ■ ft I Almost unknown to himself, there had been hitherto a wild hope still lingering in Fred's breast — a hope that Fate or rather Providence had not reserved him for a doom so fearful. But now the last faint spark of hope died out, and with it went all his wild, tumultuous thoughts, and a deep, settled calm took their place. He looked up. Before him stood De Lisle, his arms folded across his breast, gazing upon him with his evil eyes. The sneering smile of a de- mon was on his face, all the intense hatred and revenge he had ever cherished glowed in his features, and a light of intense malignity glit- tered in his serpentlike eyes. "Well, Fred Stanley, we have met for the last time,'* he said mockingly. ''You see now the death you were born for, your doom is to roast alive by a slow fire." Fred made no reply. Fixing his eyes on De Lisle's face he gazed upon him so long and so steadily that involuntarily De Lisle quailed be- fore him. It was but for a moment, however, and recovering himself he went on. ''And have you no message to send to Edith? I go from here to-night, and with the help of my master, before referred to, I shall carry her oft in spite of them all, to where they will never again behold her. Look as fierce as you pleaee, The Stake. [ad been Fred's >videncc fearful. lied out, lultuous )k their 'isle, his Ipon him |of a de- red and in his iity 95 glit- ■ the last now the to roast > on De and so iled be- 3vve\'er, Edith ? ' of my her off never please, my good fellow; i rather enjoy it than otherwise, since it tells me you feel. Once, had i not hated you so intensely, with a hatred that became part of my very being, 1 could have envied you for the heart you had won, a heart which I will yet trample under my feet, until your fate will seem an enviable one compared with hers. She despised me, spurned me with contempt for the gay, the handsome, the fascinating, the gallant Fred Stanley, and in her turn she will learn what it is to be spurned. No one who has ever yet injured me escaped. To the very ends of the earth I would follow them like a bloodhound following a trail, until I had wreaked my venire- ance. You wronged me, insulted me, and you see the result — 'a fate so dreadful that manhood must shudder to contemplate it will be yours. Her turn comes next, for now that you stand on the threshold of eternity, I swear to you, Fred Stanley, that neither Heaven nor earth can turn me from my purpose.'* ''Monster!" exclaimed Fred, in a voice that sounded low and unnatural with intense horror, "is this the return you make for all Major Fer- cival has done for you? For myself, I neither have nor shall ask for mercy from you, fiend that you are, I would not accept it if offered, but gratitude to the old man who has been more than a father to you, should restrain you from a crime i/} The Stake. thai even these bloudihirsiy .^avagCh around us v\ould shrink Ironi LOiiiniiUiiig-. Man, man! If there is one si)ark oi human nature in your lieiiu- ish heart, \<>u will not bring" the gray liairs ot that old man with sorrow to the grave." ii^, ''lla, ha! And Fred Stanley can i)lead for the man who spurned him like a dog!" laughed Ue Lisle scorn full V. "If vou continue in this strain I shall begin to think you are a saint. Your elo- (lUence is cjuite lost, my good friend; that one si)ark of human nature you see does not exist I in my fiendish heart. Say, my friend, was it 1 not for j)retty Edith you were pleading that time instead of her duting old fool of a father? Spare him! — ha, ha! — why, 1 have a long score against him, too, that nuist be vvi[)ed out by a few of his doubloons. When he refused to com- pel his lovesick daughter to marry me I vowed vengeance against him as well a.^ the rest; and, as I don't like to be in anybody's debt, I shall take care to cancel it as soon as possible." "If there ever was a devil in human form it is you, Ralph de Lisle!" exclaimed Fred, wdth a look of hatred and loathing; "to pursue thus with the vengeance of a tiger an old man and a heli)- . less girl for some fancied wrong. Had it been a man — but old age arid helplessness. Oh, cow- ard!" • De Lisle's face grew livid with rage, as he The Stake. 97 Iti'id us in ! J f fiend fur tlio led 1\' slraiii 'ur el<) lat one 't exist was it at time father? g score It by a to coni- vowed t; and, I shall orni it ^vith a s vvitfi hel[)- : been cow- * I as he half drew a pistol and advanced a step toward him. Fred observed the action, and his heart ]>ounded with the hope that in his rage ])e Li.sle mij^ht shoot him, and thus save liini from a more terrible fate. The hope was in vain, however. De Lisle saw the quick j>leani of his eye, and stepping back he replaced the pistol in his belt, saying in his cus- tomary sarcastic tone: "No, don't flatter yourself J '11 end your suffer- ings so speedily. I have no intention of depriv- ing my good friends here of the pleasant scenr* they anticipate. 1 must confess it is rather new for me to allow any one to call me a coward, and let him escape inmiediate chastisement, but cir- cumstances alter cases, you know. I perceive Long Knife approaching to give the signal for the fagots to be lighted, and our red-skinned friends are growing impatient. So farewell, Fred Stanley. I wish you a pleavsant journey to the other world, and a cordial welcome when you arrive there!" He bowed with most ceremonious politeness, and ijtepped aside as the savage chief approached. Waving his hand as a signal, one of the Indians advanced and thrust a light brand among the combustibles. In a moment the whole pile wgs in a blaze. -< ■^'$ •..'' ' *>■; -'■ 9? The Stake. L With screeches and yells that can be likened to nc 'thing earthly the savages joined hands and danced madly around the iiames that rose crack- ling and blazing and roaring as though exulting in their power. Fred raised his eyes to the bright sky above him for one farewell glance. It was such a glori- ous day, bright and radiant with sunlight. Higher and higher rose the flames, fiercer and fiercer they blazed, faster and faster they spread, until he stood alone within a red, lurid circle of fire. The heat and smoke were beginning to grow unbearable, for the flames had not reached him. Fixing his eyes on the devouring monster, Fred silently committed his soul to Heaven. One last thought of Edith, and then all were turned to that dread unknown, to which he was so rapidly approaching. The cries, w^hoops, yells and screeches of the savages each moment increased, as they danced madly outside the ring of fire. He scarcely heeded or heard them, until suddenly they died away. Every voice was arrested, the mad dance ceased, and all stood as if transfixed. Following the direction toward which every eye was now turned, Fred beheld a sight which filled him with amazement. [be likened to hands and ^t rose crack- ^ugh exuJtino- o t sky above such a glori- lunli^-ht. k fi^-cer and they spread, nd circle of beginning to ' not reached nig monster, to Heaven, 'len all were ^hich he was eches of the they danced ^e scarcely y they died • inad dance Following e was now d him with CHAPTER Vni. A NARROW ESCAPE. "Oh ! ask me not to speak thy f ate— Oh! tempt me not to tell, The doom shall make thee desolate, The wrong thou mayst not quell. Away ! away ! for death would be Even as a mercy unto thee." The cause of their astonishment was soon ex- plained. There, before them, like a spirit, in his flowing robes and snowy hair, stood the Hermit of the Cliffs ! With a grunt expressive of surprise and satis- faction, not unmingled with awT, the chief ad- vanced to meet him. There was something truly imposing in the majestic appearance of the old man, his fantastic robes fluttering in the air, his long white hair and beard flowing over his shoul- ders. There was an evident reverence and re- spect for this singular old man in the hearts of the Indians, who looked upon him as a superior being, something more akin to the Great Spirit than to his fellow men. Pointing toward the prisoner, the hermit ad- dressed the chief in his own language, in a tone more of command than entreaty. At first his words were listened to impatiently, then angrily, r- lOO A Narroxv Escal>e. and fiwaily with a sort of awe. As the hermit went on, increasing *n veliemence, the warrior listened in superstitious silence, and when he had concktded he bowed his head, and, followed by the hermit, turned toward his own peuple, who had stood watching" them during their conference with looks of mingled respect and curiosity, and began addressing them in their own language. As a matter of course, Fred understood not a word, ])Ut, from the savage eyes that were every now and then turned toward him, he judged he was the subject of their conversation. Surprise first, and then rage, was depicted on every face, while knives and tomahawks were brandished, with fierce yells. But the loud, harsh voice of the chief made itself heard above the din in tones of anger and command. The warriors gradually relapsed into >ullen silence, while every eye was directed toward the captive, glaring with concentrated passion and disappoint- ment. When the chieftain ceased, the hermit ad- dressed the ein-ai^ed crowd. High and clear like the silvery tones of a trumpet his voice rang out, soothing tbe waters of passion which the woids of their chief had lashed into fury. As they lis- tened, their noisy demonstrations of rage gave place to deep growls and sullen mutterings, while they glared like wild beasts upon Fred, whose i)o- A Karrozv Escape. lOI ed on were loud, ^e The ence, 'ti\e, '>2nt- like JUt, ids lis- ive lile sition at the stake was ii'jvv almost utibearablo. As he folded his anus across his breast and ceased speaking the warriors fell sullenly back, and the chief himself, leai)ini;' over the Isurniui;- circle, freed tlie bonds of Fred and motioned him to follow. No second invitation wa.^ necessary to make him leave his place of tortine, and the next moment he stood beside the hermit, who scarcely gave him a single glance as he turned again and addressed the chief. During these proceedings, which occupied but a few moments, De Lisle had stood watching then] hke one who cannot believe what he sees. Now he ad\anced to where the trio stood, and with a face perfectly livid with rage and dis- appointment he turned toward the hermit, and angrilv exclaimed: "Sir, what means this? By what devilish art have you bewitched these savages into giving up their pre}?" 'It mcar^ , sir, that your evil machinations are again defeated by me, 1 use no devilish arts, as you well know. l)ut there is a Power higher than that of man, a Power that can defeat man's most cunning scheme in its own good time!" an- swered the hermit, with grave dignity. ''Death and fury! Old man, cease your prat- ling!" exclaimed the maddened De Lisle. "Though this copper-colored fool Ikvq has given 102 A Narrow Escape. him up, by Heaven! I will disappoint you yet, and you shall bear from hence but a dead car- case )) He drew a pistol as he spoke, but ere he could fulfill his threat it was struck from his hand by the chief, who brandished his tomahawk before his eyes with a fierce yell, and would doubtless have prevented his ever drawing another, but for the intervention of the hermit. Motioning De Lisle back with a majestic wave of the hand, he said: *'Away, sir ! One word from me, and you and your band of cutthroats there will, in five min- utes, be in eternity! Though you can show no mercy to others, mercy shall be shown to you. Away with you — your very presence is pollu- tion !" *1 obey, most reverend dealer in magic," said De Lisle, with a mocking bow and smile, though his face was ghastly with suppressed passion, ''but think not, though you are triumphant now, you have conquered Ralph de Lisle. I swear I will yet have threefold vengeance on you, hoary sorcerer, and on this double-dyed traitor beside you!" With a fierce exclamation Fred sprang for- ward, and De Lisle would doubtless have been felled to the earth, but the hermit laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, and said sternly: A Narrozv Escape. 10- ^ou yet, [ad car- te could ^and by before >ubtless ■r, but tioning hand, ou and e min- now no o you. pollu- said hough Lssion, now, Tar J hoary >eside for- been hand *nly : '1 command you not. '\'engeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will repay.' Leave this fiend incarnate to a higher Power. His race will soon be run.'* '*Ha! Say you so, good father?" said De Lisle ironically. ''It might be so, but I will send a few of your particular friends before nic to an- nounce my coming. I regret leaving such pleas- ant company, but 'necessity knows no law.' I trust soon to have the pleasure of meeting you both again. Until then!" He bowed, lifted his hat, and with the same cold, sneering smile on his lip, he turned away. Whispering a few words in the ear of Paul Snowe, whose eyes were fixed as if fascinated on the hermit, he gave his men the order to mount. Ere five minutes had elapsed they were in their saddles and away. "We must follow their example," said the hermit to Fred. Then turning to the chief he spoke a few words in the Lidian language, to which the other answered by a nod, and making a sign that they should follow him, he turned and forced his way through the group of dogged- looking warriors, whose glances toward Fred were anything but friendly. Fred's horse was led fortlii, together with the hermit's. The chief himself mounted and gave some order to his followers, upon which some 104 A Ntir/oiv Hscal'C. ' I half dozen sprang into their saddles and the whole party dashed orf. As they reached the sunnnit of the hill Fred paused a moment to look hack. Scarcely eight hours had elapsed since he had stood in the same spot, hut how different were his feelings! Then he stood on the threshold of death, with his deadly foe on one side and hloodthirsty savages on the other. Now he was safe and free, or at least on the high road to freedom, saved by the same mysterious be'.ng who had saved his life before. All the events since his capture had passed so rapidly that he was almost tempted to believe it was but a troubled dream. A glance, however, at his dusky companions soon convinced him of the unpleasant reality, and quijkening his pace he descended the hill, and bade a last and unreluctant adieu to the Indian village. Near the spot where Fred had ])cen made cap- tive their savage escort left them, pnd the pre- server and preserved went on their journey alone. For a time they rode in silence. Both were too deeply absorbed in thought to converse. At length the hermit looked up and said: **Yours was a narrow escape, my friend. Vou were indeed literally snatched a brand from the burning." "And to you I owe it," replied Fred gratefully. ''You seem fated to place me under a debt of sa of A Narroiv Hscape. 105 [and iht ill Frtd ly eight Jie same .' Then ith his savages e, or at ' by the his hfG le had pted to glance, ivinced ling his 1st and ie cap- e p re- alone, were . At iend. from )t of gratitude. I will not altcuipt to thank y(ju for saving me from a doom so dreadful. No words of mine " "I want no thank.s," interrupted the hermit, '■[f you really feel i^ratcful let your gratitude l)e inward, and manifest itself by actions instead of words. I know the world too well to place much confidence in hollow promises!" ''How did you discover I was a prisoner?" in- quired Fred, whose curiosity could no longer be restrained. "Very easily. I foresaw danger when you started, and followed you." "Then you were near me during my journey." said Fred. "I wonder the savages did not dis- cover you." "I was near you at fust, but was unable to ride forward as rapidly as your party. How- ever, I followed your trail and reached the vil- lage a few hours after, and providentially in time to save your life." "It is most wonderful they would surrender a captive at the stake," said Fred. "Your power, sir, seems to l)e omnipoteiu." "i had a strotig claim on the gratitude of the chief," said the hermit. "Once, when I found him alone, wounded and almost dying. I had him lK>rne to my dwelling and nursed him until he recovered. Since then he has been anxious to loC A Narroiv Escape. rl redeem the promise made at the time, to grant me the first favor I ever asked of him; and as your Hfe chanced to be the first he was forced to grant it. Besides," he added with a smile, *'his superstitious followers consider me some- thing more than mortal, and labor under the de- lusion that in offending me they will draw upon themselves the wrath of the Great Spirit.'* ''Your power extends over more than super- stitious savages," said Fred, "my father, stern and haughty as he is, quails before you as he has never done before any other living man. Would I knew the secret of your mysterious power!" A shadow passed over the face of the hermit, and when he spoke again his voice was unusually low and solemn: ''Some day, ere long perhaps, you will learn all. Until that time, rest in peace, and believe this mystery is all for the best. I go now to my home on the cliffs, but something tells me we will soon meet again." "Well, let it be for joy or for sorrow, the meeting will be welcome," replied Fred; "but why should you reside in that lonely spot, why n(»t seek a home with your friends?" "Friends?" repeated the hermit, almost bit- terly; "who in this selfish world deserve that sacred name? No, I have done with trusting A Narrow Escape. 107 grant md as "orced smile, |some- le de- upon uper- steni as he man. rious Tmit, ually learn lieve V to ^ we the A'hy nut hit- iiat mir the world; my experience has taught me how much rehance there is to be placed in it. I would be alone with nature — watching the mighty, ever-moaning sea, listening to the wild shrieks of the wind, or gazing upon the blue lightning, I am happy. I never wish to mingle with my fellow men more." ''Strange, eccentric being," thought Fred as he gazed on the pale face of his companion, now lit up by enthusiasm. ''What strange vicissi- tudes he must have passed through!" "What do you think now of my prediction?" said the hermit quietly, after a few moment's pause. "Think?" replied Fred, ''why, that your proph- ecy has in a most unpleasantly short time been fulfilled, and I must apologize for ever presum- ing to doubt its truth." "I fear still greater dangers are in store for you," said the hermit gloomily. "From what quarter now?" inquired Fred. "From your mortal enemy, De Lisle. There was something perfectly fiendish in his look as he left us; and it needs no soothsayer to tell he is even now plotting against you." "Well, it seems to be a drawn battle," said Fred with a half smile, "he plotting and you counter- plotting. As for me, I seem like a rudderless craft in the stream of life, drifting whichever }t:S .'/ Marrow Escape. * I Vv'i) y th e current sets. It 18 useless si riving In jj;"uard a.^ainst danj^ers when we cannot foresee in what sliai>e they may cuine. S«i, my dear sir, I shall preserve th.e even lenor of my way, and jiiaee my trnst m I roviclence a nd \ou. n Youth is always hopeful and l)lindly trusl- int::,"' said ihe hermit; "but Heaven forbid my presentiments should prove true, for there may be dangers worse than death. Disgrace to you would be a tliousandfold worse.'' •'Disgrace!" exclaimed bVed, almost furiously, while his face flushed; "who dares coujile my name w ith d is^irace "De Lisle will endeavor to do so, rest assured," said the hermit ; "there — there is no need of look- ing so fierce about it. Do you imagine there i.s anything he can do to injure you in the opinion of the world, more especially in that of the Per- civals, that he will not do? And, speaking of the Percivals, 1 presume that is your present destination." "No," said Fred, "I go there no more. Would lo Heaven I had never t:one there." les. "It would have been better for all ])a.rt said the hermit: "Init the past can never be re- called, and you can only endeavor to atone for it by absenting yourself f