"I do not know," answered his granddaughter.

"Was she ill?"

"I really do not know."

"When did she go?"

"I do not know that either, except that she must have slipped out while we were at prayers."

"You seem to be a perfect know-nothing, Cora."

"On this subject I certainly am. I did not perceive Mrs. Stillwater's absence until we rose from our knees."

"Well, we shall find her at the hotel, I suppose, and then we shall know all about it."

By this time they had reached the Blank House.

They entered and went up into their parlor.

Rose was not there.

"Bless my soul, I hope the poor child is not ill. Go, Cora, and see if she is in her room, and find out what is the matter with her," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he dropped wearily into the big arm chair.

Cora had just come from church, from hearing an eloquent sermon on Christian charity, so she was in one of her very best moods.

She went at once into the bedroom occupied jointly by herself and her traveling companion. She found Rose in a wrapper, with her hair down, lying on the outside of her bed.

"Are you not well?" she inquired in a gentle tone.

"No, dear; I have a very severe neuralgic headache. It takes all my strength of mind and nerve to keep me from screaming under the pain," answered Rose, in a faint and faltering voice.

"I am very sorry."

"It struck me—in the church—with the suddenness of a bullet—shot through my brain."

"Indeed, I am very, very sorry. You should have told me. I would have come out with you."

"No, dear. I did not—wish to disturb—anybody. I slipped out noiselessly—while all were kneeling. No one heard me—no one saw me except the sexton—who opened—the swing doors—silently to let me pass."

"You should not have attempted to walk home alone in such a condition. It was not safe. But I am talking to you, when I should be aiding you," said Cora; and she went to her dressing case and took from it a certain family specific for neuralgic headaches which had been in great favor with her grandmother. This she poured into a glass, added a little water, and brought to the sufferer.

"Put it on the stand by the bed, dear. I will take it presently. Thank you very much, dear Cora. Now will you please close all the shutters and make the room as dark as a vault—and shut me up in it—I shall go to sleep—and wake up relieved. The pain goes as suddenly as it comes, dear," said Rose, still in a faint, faltering and hesitating voice.

Cora did all her bidding, put the tassel of the bell cord in her reach, and softly left the room.

The chamber was not as dark as a vault, however. Enough of light came through the slats of the shutters and the white lace curtains to enable Rose to rise, take the medicine from the stand, cross the floor and pour it in the wash basin, under a spigot. Then she turned on the water to wash it down the drain. Then she turned off the water and went back to bed—not to sleep—for she had too much need to think.

Had the minister in that pulpit recognized her, as she had certainly recognized him? She hoped not. She believed not. As soon as she had heard the voice—the voice that had been silent for her so many years—she had impulsively looked up. And she had seen him! A specter from the past—a specter from the grave! But his eyes were fixed upon the book from which he was reading, and she quickly dropped her head before he could raise them. No; he had not seen her. But oh! if she had heard his name before she had gone to hear him preach, nothing on earth would ever have induced her to go into the church. But she had not heard his name at all. She had heard of him only as the Dean of Olivet. He was not a dean in those far-off days when she saw him last; only a poor curate of whose stinted household she had grown sick and tired. But he was now Dean of Olivet! He had come to make a tour of the United States. Should she have the mischance to meet him again? Would he go up to West Point for the exercises at the military academy? But of course he would! It was so convenient to do so. West Point was so near and easy to see. The trip up the Hudson was so delightful at this season of the year. And the dean was bound to see everything worth seeing. And what was better worth seeing by a foreigner than the exercises at our celebrated military academy? What should she do to avoid meeting, face to face, this terrible phantom from the grave of her dead past?

She could make no excuse for remaining in New York while her party went up to West Point—make no excuse, that is, which would not also make trouble. And it was her policy never to do that. She thought and thought until she had nearly given herself the headache which before she had only feigned. At length she decided on this course: To go to West Point with her party, and as soon as they should arrive to get up a return of her neuralgic headache, as her excuse for keeping her room at the hotel and absenting herself from the exercises at the academy.

As soon as she had formed this resolution she got up, opened one of the windows, washed and dressed herself and went out into the parlor.

She entered softly.

Old Aaron Rockharrt was sound asleep in his big arm chair.

Cora was seated at the table engaged in reading. She arose to receive the invalid.

"Are you better? Are you sure you are able to be up?" she kindly inquired.

"Oh, yes, dear! Very much better! Well, indeed! When it goes, it goes, you know! But had we better not talk and disturb Mr. Rockharrt?" inquired Rose.

"We cannot disturb him. He sleeps very soundly—too soundly, I think, and too much."

"Do you know by what train we go to West Point to-morrow?"

"By the 7:30 a.m. So that we may arrive in good time for the commencement. We must retire very early to-night, for we must be up betimes in the morning. But sit down; you really look very languid," said Cora, and taking the hand of her companion, she led her to the sofa and made her recline upon it. Then Cora resumed her own seat.

"Thank you, darling," cooed Rose.

There was silence in the room for a few moments. Mr. Rockharrt slept on. Cora took up her book. Rose was the first to speak.

"I wonder if the new lion, the Dean of Olivet, will go to West Point to-morrow," she said in a tone of seeming indifference.

"Oh, yes! It is in all the papers. He is to be the guest of the chaplain," replied Cora.

"I wonder what train he will go by."

"Oh, I don't know that. He may go by the night boat."

"The Dean of Olivet would never travel on Sunday night."

"But he might hold service and preach on the boat."

"Oh, yes; so he might."

"What on earth are you talking about? When will dinner be ready?" demanded old Aaron Rockharrt, waking up from his nap. Straightening himself up and looking around, he saw Rose Stillwater.

"Oh, my dear, are you better of your headache?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Rockharrt."

"You look pale, as if you had gone through a sharp siege, if a short one. You should have told me in the pew, and allowed me to take you here, not ventured out alone, when you were in such pain."

"But I did not wish to attract the least attention, so I slipped out unperceived while everybody's heads were bent in prayer."

"All very well, my dear; but pray don't venture on such a step again. I am always at your service to attend you. Now, Cora, ring for dinner to be served. It was ordered for five o'clock, I think, and it is five minutes past," said Mr. Rockharrt, consulting his watch.

Cora arose, but before she could reach the bell, the door was opened, and the waiter appeared to lay the cloth.

After dinner the Iron King went into a little room attached to the suite, which he used as a smoking den.

The two young women settled themselves to read.

They all retired at nine o'clock that night so as to rise very early next day.



CHAPTER XV.

AT THE ACADEMY.

It was a splendid May morning. Our travelers were out of bed at half-past four o'clock. The sun was just rising when they sat down to their early breakfast.

Mr. Rockharrt seemed stronger and brighter than he had been since his arrival in New York.

The Sabbath day's complete rest had certainly refreshed him.

Immediately after breakfast they left the hotel, entered the carriage which had been engaged for them and drove to the Hudson River depot.

"There's the dean!" exclaimed Mr. Rockharrt, as they entered the waiting room. "He must be going on the same train with us."

Rose Stillwater did not start or change color this time. She had prepared herself for contingencies by taking a dose of morphine just before she left the hotel. But she drew her veil closely over her face, murmuring that the brightness of the sun hurt her eyes.

Cora looked up and saw the tall, thin form of the church dignitary standing with a group of gentlemen near the gate leading to the train.

The waiting room was crowded; a multitude was moving toward West Point.

"It is well I engaged our rooms a week ago, or we might not have found accommodations," said Mr. Rockharrt, as he pressed with his party behind the crowd.

Among the group of gentlemen surrounding the dean, was a Wall Street broker with whom old Aaron Rockharrt had been doing business for the last few days.

This man was standing beside the dean, and both stood immediately in front of Mr. Rockharrt and his party.

Presently the broker turned and saw the Iron King.

"Oh, Mr. Rockharrt. Happy to meet you here. Going to the Point, as everybody else is? Fine day."

"Yes; a fine day," responded the Iron King.

At this moment the dean happened to turn his head.

"You know the Dean of Olivet, of course, Mr. Rockharrt?"

"No; I have not that pleasure."

"Let me present you. Dean of Olivet, Mr. Rockharrt."

Both gentlemen bowed.

The Iron King held out his hand.

"Happy to welcome you to America, Dean. Went to hear you preach yesterday morning. One of the finest sermons I ever heard in my life, I do assure you."

The dean bowed very gravely.

"Let me present you to my granddaughter, Mrs. Rothsay," said the old man.

The dean bowed gravely to the young lady, who bent her head.

"And to our friend, Mrs. Stillwater," continued the old gentleman, waving his hand again. "Why, where is she? Why, Cora, where is Mrs. Stillwater?" demanded the Iron King in amazement.

"I do not know. I have just missed her," said the young lady.

"Well, upon my soul! For the power of vanishing she excels all living creatures. Pray, Cora, does she carry a fairy cap in her pocket, and put it on when she wishes to make herself invisible?"

"I think, sir, that she has been pressed away from us in the crowd. We shall find her when we get through the gate into more space."

"Well, I hope so."

"She is quite able to take care of herself, sir. Pray do not be alarmed. She will be sure to find us."

"Well, I hope so. Yes; of course she will."

At this moment the gates were opened.

"Take my arm. Don't let me lose you in the crowd. I suppose Mrs. Stillwater cannot fail to join us. Oh! of course not! She knows the train, and there is but one."

He drew Cora's hand close under his arm, and holding it tightly, followed the multitude through the gate, looking all around in search of Rose Stillwater.

But she was nowhere to be seen.

"She may have gotten ahead of us, and be on the train. Come on!" said Mr. Rockharrt, as he hurried his granddaughter along and pushed her upon the platform.

The cars were rapidly filling.

Mr. Rockharrt seized upon four seats, in order to secure three. He put Cora in one and told her to put her traveling bag on the other, to hold it for Mrs. Stillwater. Then he took possession of the seat in front of her.

"As soon as this crowd settles itself down and leaves something like a free passageway, I will go through the train and find Mrs. Stillwater. She is bound to be on board. She is no baby to lose herself," said Mr. Rockharrt, and though his words were confident, his tone seemed anxious.

The people all got seated at last and the long train moved.

Mr. Rockharrt left his seat, and stooping over his granddaughter, he whispered:

"I am going now to look for Mrs. Stillwater and fetch her here."

He passed slowly down the car, looking from side to side, and then out through the back door to the rear cars, and so out of Cora's sight.

He was gone about fifteen minutes. At the end of that time he reappeared, and came up the car and stopped to speak to Cora: "She is not in any of the rear cars. I am going forward to look for her. This comes of traveling in a crowd."

He went on as before, looking carefully from side to side, passed out of the front door and again out of Cora's sight. This time he was gone twenty minutes. When he come back his face wore an expression of the greatest anxiety.

"She is not on the train. She has been left behind! Foolish woman, to let herself be separated from us in this stupid way!" testily exclaimed the Iron King, as he dropped himself heavily into his seat.

"What can be done?" exclaimed Cora, now seriously uneasy about her unwelcome companion, because she feared that Rose might have been seized with one of her sharp and sudden headaches and had stepped away from them as she had done in the church.

"I hope she has had the presence of mind, on finding herself left, to return to the hotel and wait for the next train. This is the express, and does not stop until we reach Garrison's. But when we get there I will telegraph to her and tell her what train to take. It is all an infernal nuisance—this being jostled about by a crowd."

Cora was consulting a time table. She looked up from it and said:

"It will all come right, sir. There is another train at half-past eight. If she should take that, she will reach West Point in full time for the opening of the exercises. We started unnecessarily early."

"I always take time by the forelock, Cora. That habit is one of the factors of my success in life."

The express train flew on, and in due time reached Garrison's, opposite West Point. The ferry boat was waiting for the train. As soon as it stopped, Mr. Rockharrt handed his granddaughter out. The other passengers followed, and made a rush for the boat.

"Let it go, Cora. We must take time to telegraph to Mrs. Stillwater, and we can wait for the next trip," said Mr. Rockharrt, still keeping a firm grip on his granddaughter's arm, lest through woman's inherent stupidity she should also lose herself, as he marched her off to the telegraph window of the station.

The telegram, a very long-winded one, was sent. Then they sat down to wait for the coming boat, which crossed the going one about midstream, and approached rapidly.

In a few minutes they were on board and steaming across the river.

They reached the opposite bank, and Mr. Rockharrt led his granddaughter out, and placed her in the carriage he had engaged by telegraph to meet them, for carriages would be in very great demand, he knew.

They drove up to the hotel in which he had taken rooms. Here they went into their parlor to rest and to wait for an answer to the telegram.

"It is no use going over to the academy now. We could not get sight of Sylvan. The rules and regulations of the military school are as strict and immutable as the laws of the Medes and Persians," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he dropped heavily into a great armchair, leaned back and presently fell asleep.

Cora never liked to see him fall into these sudden deep slumbers. She feared that they were signs of physical decay.

She sat at a front window, which, from the elevated point upon which the hotel stood, looked down upon the brilliant scene below, where crowds of handsomely dressed ladies were walking about the beautiful grounds. She sat watching them some time, and until she saw the tide of strollers turning from all points, and setting in one direction—toward the academy.

Then she glanced at her grandfather. Oh! how old and worn he looked when he lost control of himself in sleep. She touched him lightly. He opened his eyes.

"What is it? Has the telegram come from Mrs. Stillwater?" he inquired.

"No, sir; but the visitors are pouring into the academy, and I am afraid, if we do not go over at once, we shall not be able to find a seat," said Cora.

"Oh, yes, we shall. Strange we do not get an answer from Mrs. Stillwater," said the old man anxiously, as he slowly arose and began to draw on his gloves and looked for his hat.

Cora went and found it and gave it to him.

Then she put on her bonnet.

Then they went down together, crossed the grounds, and entered the great hall, which was densely crowded. Good seats had been reserved for them, and they found themselves seated next the Dean of Olivet on Cora's right and the Wall street broker on Mr. Rockharrt's left.

I do not mean to trouble my readers with any description of this by-gone exhibition. They can read a full account of such every season in every morning paper. Merely to say that it was late in the afternoon when the exercises were over for the day.

Mr. Rockharrt and Cora Rothsay returned to the hotel to a very late dinner.

The first question that the Iron King asked was whether any telegram had come for him. He was told that there was none.

"It is very strange. She could not have received mine," he said, and he went directly to the telegraph office of the hotel and dispatched a long message to the clerk of the Blank House, telling him of how Mrs. Stillwater had been separated from her party by the pressure of the crowd, and how she had thereby missed their train, and inquiring whether she had returned to the hotel, whether she had got his message, and if she were well. Any news of her, or from her, was anxiously expected by her friends.

Having sent off this dispatch, Mr. Rockharrt went in to dinner. The dinner was long. The courses were many. Mr. Rockharrt and his granddaughter were still at table when the following telegram was placed in his hands:

BLANK HOUSE, New York, May, 18—

Mrs. Stillwater is not here, and has not been seen by any of our people since she left the house with your party for the Hudson River Railway depot. We have made inquiries, but have no news.

M. MARTIN.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE SEARCH.

"This is intolerable," muttered old Aaron Rockharrt, in a tone as who should say: "How dare Fate set herself to baffle ME?"

He then took tablets and pencil from his pocket and wrote the following telegram:

COZZENS HOTEL, WEST POINT, May ——, 18—

To M. MARTIN, ESQ., Blank House, New York City:

Just received your dispatch. There has been foul play. Report the case at police headquarters. Set private detective on the track of the missing lady. Last seen at the gate of the Hudson River Railway depot, waiting for 7:30 a.m. train for West Point yesterday morning, but not seen on train. Give me prompt notice of any news.

AARON ROCKHARRT.

He beckoned a waiter and sent the message to be dispatched from the office of the hotel.

Then he set himself to finish his dinner.

After dinner he went out on the piazza.

Cora followed him. There was quite a number of people out there, seeing whom, he walked out upon the open grounds.

"May I come with you, grandfather?" inquired Cora.

"If you like," was the short answer.

As they walked on he said:

"I think it possible that Mrs. Stillwater, after missing our train, left for North End."

"Yes, it is possible," assented Cora.

No more was said. They walked on for half an hour and then returned to the hotel and bade each other good night.

The next morning they met in the parlor.

Old Aaron Rockharrt was reading a New York morning paper. Cora went up and bade him good morning.

He merely nodded and went on reading. Presently he burst out with:

"By ——! This must be Mrs. Stillwater!"

"Who? What?" eagerly inquired Cora, going to his side.

"Here! Read!" exclaimed the Iron King, handing her the sheet and pointing out the paragraph.

Cora took the paper with trembling hands and read as follows:

"A MYSTERY.—Yesterday morning at six o'clock an unknown young woman of about twenty-five or thirty years of age, of medium height, plump form, fair complexion and yellow hair, clothed in a rich suit of widow's mourning, was found in a state of coma in the ladies' dressing room of the Hudson River Railway station. She was taken to St. L——'s Hospital. There was nothing on her person to reveal her name or address."

"That must have been Mrs. Stillwater," said old Aaron Rockharrt.

"I think there is no question of it," replied Cora.

"No doubt the poor child was suddenly seized with one of her terrible neuralgic headaches, caused by the pressure of that infernal crowd at the gate, and she stole away, as before, lest she should disturb us and prevent our journey; the most self-sacrificing creature I ever met. No doubt she meant to telegraph to us, but was prevented by the sudden reaction from agony to stupor. Ah! I hope it is not a fatal stupor."

"I hope not, sir."

"Cora!"

"Yes, sir."

"We must leave for New York by the next train. If Sylvanus is not free to go with us, he can follow us. Come, let us go down and get some breakfast."

Cora arose and went with her grandfather down to the breakfast room.

When they had taken their places at one of the tables and given their orders to one of the waiters, old Aaron Rockharrt drew a time table from his pocket and consulted it.

"There is a down train stops at Garrison's at 10:50. We will take that."

As soon as they had breakfasted, and as they were leaving the table, another telegram was handed to Mr. Rockharrt. He opened it and read as follows:

BLANK HOUSE, New York, May ——, 18—

The missing lady is in St. L——'s Hospital.

M. MARTIN.

"It is true, then! true as we surmised. Mrs. Stillwater was the unknown lady found unconscious in the dressing room of the Hudson River Railroad and taken to St. L——'s. Cora!"

"Yes, sir."

"Go and pack our effects immedately. I will go down and settle the bill and leave a letter of explanation for Sylvanus. Get your bonnet on and be ready. The carriage will be at the door in twenty minutes."

Cora hurried off to her room and to her grandfather's room, which adjoined hers, to prepare for the sudden journey. She quickly packed and labeled their traveling bags, and rang for a porter to take them down stairs.

Then she put on her bonnet and duster and went down and joined her grandfather in the parlor.

"Come," he said, "the carriage is at the door and our traps on the box. I have written to Sylvanus, telling him to join us at the Blank House, where we will wait for him."

He turned abruptly and went out, followed by Cora.

They entered the waiting carriage and were rapidly driven down to the ferry.

The boat was at the wharf. They alighted from the carriage and went on board.

Old Aaron Rockharrt's hot haste did not avail them much. The boat remained at the wharf for ten minutes, during which the Iron King secretly fumed and fretted.

"Does this boat connect with the 10:50 train for New York?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir," was the answer.

"Then you will miss it."

"Oh, no, sir."

The five remaining minutes seemed hours, but they passed at length and the boat left the shore, and old Aaron Rockharrt walked up and down the deck impatiently.

As they neared the other side the whistle of a down train was heard approaching.

"There! I said you would miss it!" exclaimed the Iron King.

"That train does not stop here, sir," was the good humored answer.

The boat touched the wharf at Garrison's, and the passengers got off.

Old Aaron Rockharrt led his granddaughter up to the platform to wait for the train; but no train was in sight or hearing.

Mr. Rockharrt looked at his watch.

"After all, we have seven minutes to wait," he growled, as if time and tide were much in fault at not being at his beck and call.

"Had we not better go into the waiting room?" suggested Cora.

"No, we will stand here," replied the Iron King, who on general principles never acted upon a suggestion.

So there they stood—the old man growling at intervals as he looked up the road; Cora gazing out upon the fine scenery of river and mountain.

Presently the whirr of the coming train was heard. In a minute more it rushed into the station and stopped. There were no other down passengers except Mr. Rockharrt and Mrs. Rothsay.

He handed her up, and took her to a seat. The car was not half full. The tide of travel was northward, not southward at this season.

They were scarcely seated when the train started again. They reached New York just before noon.

"Carriage, sir? Carriage, ma'am? Carriage? Carriage? Carriage?" screamed a score of hackmen's voices, as the passengers came out on the sidewalk.

Mr. Rockharrt beckoned the best-looking turnout and handed his granddaughter into it.

"Drive to St. L——'s Hospital," he said.

The hackman touched his hat and drove off. In less than fifteen minutes he drew up before the front of St. L——'s.

The hackman jumped down, went up and rang the bell. Then he came back to the carriage and opened the door.

Mr. Rockharrt got out, followed by his granddaughter.

"Wait here!" he said to the hackman, as he went to the door, which was promptly opened by an attendant.

"I wish to see the physician in charge here, or the head of the hospital, or whatever may be his official title," said the Iron King.

"You mean the Rev. Dr. ——"

"Yes, yes; take him my card."

"Walk in the parlor, sir."

The attendant conducted the party into a spacious, plainly furnished reception or waiting room, saw them seated, and then took away Mr. Rockharrt's card.

A few minutes passed, and a tall, white haired, venerable form, clothed in a long black coat and a round skull cap, entered the room, looking from side to side for his visitor.

Mr. Rockharrt got up and went to meet him.

"Mr. Rockharrt, of North End?" courteously inquired the venerable man.

"The same. Dr. ——, I presume."

"Yes, sir. Pray be seated. And this lady?" inquired the venerable doctor, courteously turning toward Cora.

"Oh—my granddaughter, Mrs. Rothsay."

The aged man shook hands kindly with Cora, and then turned to Mr. Rockharrt, as if silently questioning his will.

"I came to inquire about the lady who was found in an unconscious state at the Hudson River Railway depot. How is she?" The old man's anxiety betrayed itself even through his deliberate words.

"She is better. You know the lady?"

"More than know her—have been intimate with her for many years. She is our guest and traveling companion. She got separated from us in the crowd which was pressing through the railway gate to take the train yesterday morning. I surely thought when I missed her that she had found her way to some car. But it appears that she was seized with vertigo, or something, and so missed the train."

"Yes; a lady, one of our regular visitors, found her there, by Providence, in a state of deep stupor, and being unable to discover her friends, or name, or address, put her in a carriage and brought her directly here."

"She is better, you say? I wish to see her and take her back to our apartments," said Mr. Rockharrt.

"I will send for one of the nurses to take you to her room. You will excuse me. I am momentarily expecting the Dean of Olivet, who is on a visit to our city, and comes to-day to go through the hospital," said the doctor, and he rang a bell.

"The dean here? Why, I thought we left him at West Point," said Mr. Rockharrt.

"He came down by a late train last night, I understand. He makes but a flying tour through the country, and cannot stay at any one place," the venerable doctor explained. And then he touched the bell again.

The same man who had let our party in came to the door to answer the call.

"Say to Sister Susannah that I would like to see her here," said the doctor.

The man went out and was presently succeeded by a sweet faced, middle aged woman in a black dress and a neat white cap.

"Here are the friends of the young lady who was brought in yesterday morning. Will you please to take them to the bedside of your patient?"

The Protestant sister nodded pleasantly and led off the visitors.

As they went up the main staircase they heard the front door bell ring, the door opened, and the Dean of Olivet, with some gentlemen in his company, entered the hall.

Our party, after one glance, passed up the stairs, through an upper hall and a corridor, and paused before a door which Sister Susannah opened.

They entered a small, clean, neat room, where, clothed in a white wrapper, reclining in a white easy chair, beside a white curtained window, and near a white bed, sat Rose Stillwater. She was looking, not only pale, but sallow—as she had never looked before.

Rose Stillwater held out one hand to Mr. Rockharrt and one to Cora Rothsay, in silence and with a faint smile.

The sister, seeing this recognition, set two cane bottomed chairs for the visitors and then went out, leaving them alone with the patient.

"Good Lord, my dear, how did all this come about?" inquired old Aaron Rockharrt, as he sank heavily upon one of the chairs, making it creak under him.

"It was while we stood in the crowd. I was pressed almost out of breath. Then the terrible pang shot through my head, and I ceased to struggle and let everybody pass before me. I dropped down on one of the benches. I had taken a morphia pellet before I left the hotel. I had the medicine in my pocket. I took another then—"

"Very wrong, my dear. Very wrong, my dear, to meddle with that drug, without the advice of a physician."

"Yes; I know it now, but I did not know it then. The second pellet stopped my headache, and I went to the ladies' dressing room to recover myself a little, so as to be able to write a telegram saying that I would follow you by the next train, but there a stupor came over me, and I knew no more until I awoke late last night and found myself here."

"How perilous, my child! In that stupor you might have been robbed or kidnapped by persons who might have pretended to be your relations and carried you off and murdered you for your clothing," said old Aaron Rockharrt, unconscious in his native rudeness that he was frightening and torturing a very nervous invalid.

"But," urged Rose—who had grown paler at the picture conjured up—"providentially I was found by the kind lady who sent or rather brought me here, and even caused me to be put in this room instead of in a ward. Sister Susannah explained this to me as soon as I was able to make inquiries."

"Now, my dear, do you feel able to go back with us to the Blank House, where we are now again staying and waiting for Sylvanus to join us?"

"Oh, yes; I shall be glad to go, though all here are most tender and affectionate to me. But I would like to see and thank the doctor for all his goodness. How like the ideal of the beloved apostle he seems to me—so mild, so tender, so reverend."

"I think you cannot wait for that to-day, my dear. The reverend doctor is engaged with the Dean of Olivet, who is going through the hospital."

Rose Stillwater's face blanched.

"Will they—will they—will they—come into this room?"

"Of course not! And if they should, you are up and in your chair. And if you were not, they are a party of ministers of the gospel and medical doctors, and you would not mind if they should see you in bed. You are a nervous child to be so easily alarmed. It is the effect of the reaction from your stupor," said Mr. Rockharrt.

"I will go with you, however, if I may," said Rose Stillwater, touching the hand bell, that soon brought an attendant into the room.

"Will you ask Sister Susannah, please, to come to me?" said Mrs. Stillwater.

The attendant went out and was soon succeeded by the sister.

"My friends wish to take me away, and I feel quite able to go with them—in a carriage. Will you please find the doctor and ask him?" inquired Mrs. Stillwater.

The sister smiled assent and went out.

Soon the venerable man entered the room.

"I hope I find you better, my child," he said, coming to the easy chair in which sat and reclined the patient.

"Very much better, thank you, sir; so much that I feel quite able to go out with my friends, if I may."

"Certainly, my child, if you like."

"I hope I have not detained you from your friends," said Rose.

"No. I left the dean in conversation with an English patient from his old parish. It was an accidental meeting, but a most interesting one."

"Does—the dean—contemplate a long stay in the city?" Rose forced herself to ask.

"Oh, no; he leaves to-night by one of the Sound steamers for Boston and Newport. His English temperament feels the heat of the city even more than we do."

Rose felt it in her heart to wish that the climate might "burn as an oven," if it should drive the British dean away.

"But I must not leave my visitors longer. So if you will excuse me, sir," he said, turning to Mr. Rockharrt, "I will take leave of my patient and her friends here."

He shook hands all around, receiving the warm thanks of the whole party.

When the venerable doctor left the room, Mr. Rockharrt withdrew to the corridor to give the nurse an opportunity to dress the convalescent for her journey.

He walked up and down the corridor for a few minutes, at the end of which Rose Stillwater came out dressed for her drive, and leaning on the arm of Cora Rothsay.

Mr. Rockharrt hastened to meet her, and took her off Cora's hands, and drew her arm within his own.

So they went down stairs and entered the carriage that was waiting for them.

A drive of fifteen minutes brought them to the Blank House.

"Grandfather," said Cora, as they alighted and went into the house, Rose leaning on Mr. Rockharrt's arm—"Grandfather, I think, now that the rush of travelers have passed northward, you may be able to get me another room. In Mrs. Stillwater's nervous condition it cannot be agreeable to her to have the disturbance of a room-mate."

"What do you say, my child?" inquired Mr. Rockharrt of his guest.

"Sweet Cora never could disturb me under any circumstances, but it cannot be good for her to room with such a nervous creature as I am just at present," replied Rose.

"Umph! It appears to me that you two women wish to have separate rooms each only for the welfare of the other. Well, you shall have them. Take Mrs. Stillwater up stairs, Cora, while I step into the office," said Mr. Rockharrt.

Cora drew the convalescent's arm within her own, and helped her to climb the easy flight of stairs, and took her into the parlor, where they were presently joined by the Iron King.

"I have also engaged a private sitting room, so that we need not go down to the public table, and dinner will be laid for us there in a few minutes. You need not lay off your wraps until you go there; and if there is any special dish that you would particularly like, my dear, I hope you will order it at once. Come." And he offered his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to whom, indeed, he had addressed all his remarks.

He led her from the public parlor, followed by his granddaughter. The little sitting room which Mr. Rockharrt had been able to engage was just across the hall.

On entering they found the table laid for a party of three.

Neither Mr. Rockharrt nor Cora had broken fast since their early breakfast at West Point. The old gentleman was very hungry.

Dinner was soon served, and two of the party did full justice to the good things set before them; but Rose Stillwater could touch nothing. She had not recovered her appetite since her overdose of morphia. In vain her host recommended this or that dish, for the more appetizing the flavor, the more she detested them.

At last when dinner was over, Mr. Rockharrt recommended her to retire to rest. She readily took his advice and bade him good night.

Cora volunteered to see their guest to her chamber.

"You will look at both rooms, Mrs. Stillwater, and take your choice between them," she said, as she led the guest into the new chamber engaged for one of the ladies.

"Oh, my dear Cora, I do not care where I drop myself down, so that I get rest and sleep. Oh, Cora! I have been so frightened! Suppose I had died in that opium sleep!" exclaimed Mrs. Stillwater, speaking frankly for at least once in her life.

"You should not have tampered with such a dangerous drug," said Mrs. Rothsay.

"Oh, I took it to stop the maddening pain that seemed to be killing me," exclaimed Rose Stillwater, as she let herself drop into an easy chair; not speaking frankly this time, for she had taken the morphia to quiet her nerves, and enable her to decide upon some course by which she might avoid meeting with the Dean of Olivet again, and some excuse for withdrawing herself so suddenly from her traveling party.

"So you will remain here?" inquired Cora.

"Oh, yes. I would remain anywhere sooner than move another step."

"Then I will help to get you to bed. Where is your bag?"

"Bag? Bag? I—I don't know! I have not seen it since I fell into that stupor! It must be at the depot or at the hospital."

"Then I will get you a night dress," said Cora.

And then she ran off to her own room, and soon returned with a white cambric gown, richly trimmed with lace.

When she had prepared her guest for bed, and put her into it, she lowered the gas and left her to repose. Then she went to her own room, satisfied to be alone with her memories once more. Soon after she heard the slow and heavy steps of her grandfather as he passed into his room.



CHAPTER XVII.

"A MAD MARRIAGE, MY MASTERS."

When the party met at a late breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Stillwater seemed to have quite recovered her health, and what was still better, in her opinion, her complexion. She was once again a delicately blooming rose. They were still at breakfast when Sylvanus Haught burst in upon them, bowed to his grandfather, bowed to Rose Stillwater, and seized Cora Rothsay around the neck and covered her with kisses, all in a minute and before he spoke a word. Old Aaron Rockharrt glared at him. Rose Stillwater smiled on him. But Cora Rothsay put her arms around his neck and kissed him with tears of pleased affection.

"Well, sir! You have got through," said the Iron King with dignified gravity.

"Yes, sir, got through, 'by the skin of my teeth,' as I might say! And got leave of absence, waiting my commission. Hurrah, Cora! Hurrah, the Rose that all admire! I shall be your cavalier for the next three months at least, and until they send me out to Fort Devil's Icy Peak, to be killed and scalped by the redskins!" exclaimed the new fledged soldier, throwing up his cap.

"Will you have the goodness to remember where you are, sir, and endeavor to conduct yourself with some manner approximating toward propriety?" demanded Mr. Rockharrt, with solemn dignity.

"I beg your pardon, grandfather! I beg your pardon, ladies," said Sylvanus, assuming so sudden and profound a gravity as to inspire a suspicion of irony in the minds of the two women.

But old Aaron Rockharrt understood only an humble and suitable apology.

"Have you breakfasted?" he inquired in a modified tone.

"No, sir; and I am as hungry as a wolf—I mean I took the first train down this morning without waiting for breakfast."

The Iron King, whose glare had cut short the first half of the young man's reply, now rang, and when the waiter appeared, gave the necessary orders.

And soon Sylvanus was seated at the table, sharing the morning meal of his family.

"Now that my brother has joined us shall we leave for North End to-day, grandfather?" inquired Cora, as they all arose from breakfast.

"No; nor need you make any suggestions of the sort. When I am ready to go home, I will tell you. I have business to transact before I leave New York," gruffly replied the family bear.

Rose Stillwater took up one of the morning papers and ran her eyes down column after column, over page after page. Presently she came to the item she was so anxiously looking for:

"The Very Reverend the Dean of Olivet left the city last evening by the steamer Nighthawk for Boston."

With a sigh of relief she laid the paper down.

Mr. Rockharrt came and sat down beside her on the sofa, and began to speak to her in a low voice.

Sylvan, sitting by Cora at the other end of the apartment, began to tell all about the exercises at West Point which she had missed. His voice, though not loud, was clear and lively, and quite drowned the sound of Mr. Rockharrt and Mrs. Stillwater's words, which Cora could see were earnest and important. At last Rose got up in some agitation and hurried out of the room. Then old Aaron Rockharrt came up to the young people and stood before them. There was something so ominous in his attitude and expression that his two grandchildren looked dismayed even before he spoke.

"Sir and madam," he said, addressing the young creatures as if they were dignitaries of the church or state, "I have to inform you that I am about to marry Mrs. Stillwater. The ceremony will be performed at the church to-morrow noon. I shall expect you both to attend us there as witnesses."

Saying which the Iron King arose and strode out of the room.

The sister and brother lifted their eyes, and might have stared each other out of countenance in their silent, unutterable consternation.

Sylvan was the first to find his voice.

"Cora! It is an outrage! It is worse! It is an infamy!" he exclaimed, as the blood rushed to his face and crimsoned it.

Cora said never a word, but burst into tears and sobbed aloud.

"Cora! don't cry! You have me now! Oh! the old man is certainly mad, and ought to be looked after. Cora, darling, don't take it so to heart! At his age, too; seventy-seven! He'll make himself the laughing stock of the world! Oh, Cora, don't grieve so! It does not matter after all! Such a disgrace to the family! Oh, come now, you know, Cora! this is not the way to welcome a fellow home! For any old man to make such a—Oh, I say, Cora! come out of that now! If you don't, I swear I will take my hat and go out to get a drink!"

"Oh, don't! don't!" gasped his sister; "don't you lend a hand to breaking my heart."

"Well, I won't, darling, if you'll only come out of that! It is not worth so much grief."

"I will—stop—as soon as—I can!" sobbed the young woman, "but when I think—of his reverent gray hairs—brought to such dishonor—by a mere adventuress—and we—so powerless—to prevent it, I feel as if—I should die."

"Oh, nonsense; you look at it too gravely. Besides, old men have married beautiful young women before now!" said Sylvan, troubled by his sister's grief, and tacking around in his opinions as deftly as ever did any other politician.

"Yes, and got themselves laughed at and ridiculed for their folly!" sighed Cora, who had ceased to sob.

"Behind their backs, and that did not hurt them one bit."

"Oh, if Uncle Fabian were only here!"

"Why, what could he do to prevent the marriage?"

"I do not know. But I know this, that if any man could prevent this degradation, he would be Uncle Fabian! It would be no use, I fear, to telegraph to Clarence!"

"Clarence!" said Sylvanus with a laugh, "Why he has no more influence with the Iron King than I have. His father calls him an idiot—and he certainly is weakly amiable. He would back his father in anything the old man had set his heart upon. But, Cora, listen here, my dear! You and I are free at present. We need not countenance this marriage by our presence. I, your brother, can take you to another hotel, or take you off to Saratoga, where we can stay until I get my orders, and then you can go out with me wherever I go. There! the Devil's Icy Peak itself will be a holier home than Rockhold, for you."

Cora had become quite calm by this time, and she answered quietly:

"No; you misapprehend me, Sylvan. It was not from indignation or resentment that I cried, and not at all for myself. I grieved for him, the spellbound old man! No, Sylvanus; since we feel assured that no power of ours, no power on earth, can turn him from his purpose, we must do our duty by him. We must refrain from giving him pain or making him angry; for his own poor old sake, we must do this! Sylvan, I must attend his bride to the altar; and you must attend him—as he desired us to do."

"'Desired!' by Jove, I think he commanded! I do not remember ever to have heard his Majesty the King of the Cumberland Mines request anybody to do anything in the whole course of his life. He always ordered him to do it! Well, Cora, dear, I will be 'best' man to the bridegroom, since you say so! I have always obeyed you, Cora. Ah! you have trained me for the model of an obedient husband for some girl, Cora! Now, I am going down stairs to smoke a cigar. You don't object to that, I hope, Mrs. Rothsay?" lightly inquired the youth as he sauntered out of the room.

He had just closed the door when Mrs. Stillwater entered.

She came in very softly, crossed the room, sat down on the sofa beside Cora, and slipped her arm around the lady's waist, purring and cooing:

"I have been waiting to find you alone, dearest. I just heard your brother go down stairs. Mr. Rockharrt has told you, dear?"

"Yes; he has told me. Take your arms away from me, if you please, Mrs. Stillwater, and pray do not touch me again," quietly replied the young lady, gently withdrawing herself from the siren's close embrace.

"You are displeased with me. Can you not forgive me, then?" pleaded Rose, withdrawing her arms, but fixing her soft blue eyes pleadingly upon the lady's face.

"You have given me no personal offense, Mrs. Stillwater."

"Cora, dear—" began Rose.

"Mrs. Rothsay, if you please," said Cora, in a quiet tone.

"Mrs. Rothsay, then," amended Rose, in a calm voice, as if determined not to take offense—"Mrs. Rothsay, allow me to explain how all this came to pass. I have always, from the time I first lived in his house, felt a profound respect and affection for your grandfather—"

"Mr. Rockharrt, if you please," said Cora.

"For Mr. Rockharrt, then, as well as for his sainted wife, the late Mrs. Rockharrt. I—"

"Madam!" interrupted Cora. "Is there nothing too holy to be profaned by your lips? You should at least have the good taste to leave that lady's sacred memory alone."

"Certainly, if you wish; but she was a good friend to me, and I served her with a daughter's love and devotion. In my last visit to Rockhold I also served Mr. Rockharrt more zealously than ever, because, indeed, he needed such affectionate service more than before. He has grown so much accustomed to my services that they now seem vitally necessary to him. But, of course, I cannot take care of him day and night, in parlor and chamber, unless I become his wife—'the Abisheg of his age.' And so, Cora, dear—I beg pardon—Mrs. Rothsay, I have yielded to his pleadings and consented to marry him."

"Mr. Rockharrt has already told me so," coldly replied Cora.

"And, dear, I wish to add this—that the marriage need make no difference in our domestic relations at Rockhold."

"I do not understand you."

"I mean in the family circle."

"Oh! thank you!" said Cora, with the nearest approach to a sneer that ever she made. "I have heard all you have to say, Mrs. Stillwater, and now I have to reply—First, that I give you no credit for any respect or affection that you may profess for Mr. Rockharrt, or for disinterested motives in marrying the aged millionaire."

"Oh, Cora—Mrs. Rothsay!"

"I will say no more on that point. Mr. Rockharrt is old and worn with many business cares. I would not willingly pain or anger him. Therefore, because he wills it, for his sake, not for yours, I will attend you to the altar. Also, if he should desire me to do so, I shall remain at Rockhold until the return of Mr. Fabian Rockharrt."

At the sound of this name Rose Stillwater winced and shivered.

"Then, knowing that his favorite son will be near him, I shall leave him with the freer heart and go away with my brother, withersoever he may be sent. Mr. Fabian is expected to return within a few weeks, and will probably be here long before my brother receives his orders. Now, Mrs. Stillwater, I think all has been said between us, and you will please excuse my leaving you," said Cora, as she arose and withdrew from the room.

Then Rose Stillwater lost her self-command. Her blue eyes blazed, she set her teeth, she doubled her fist, and shaking it after the vanished form of the lady, she hissed:

"Very well, proud madam! I'll pay you for all this! You shall never touch one cent of old Aaron Rockharrt's millions!"

Having launched this threat, she got up and went to her room. Ten minutes later she drove out in a carriage alone. She did not return to luncheon. Neither did Mr. Rockharrt, who had gone down to Wall Street. Sylvan and Cora lunched alone, and spent the afternoon together in the parlor, for they had much to say to each other after their long separation, and much also to say of the impending marriage. During that afternoon many packages and bandboxes came by vans, directed to Mrs. Rose Stillwater. These were sent to her apartment. At dusk Mrs. Stillwater returned and went directly to her room. She probably did not care to face the brother and sister together, unsupported by their grandfather. A few minutes later Mr. Rockharrt came in, looking moody and defiant, as if quite conscious of the absurdity of his position, or ready to crush any one who betrayed the slightest, sense of humor. Then dinner was served, and Rose Stillwater came out of her room and entered the parlor—a vision of loveliness—her widow's weeds all gone, her dress a violet brocaded satin, with fine lace berthe and sleeve trimmings, white throat and white arms encircled with pearl necklace and bracelets; golden red hair dressed high and adorned with a pearl comb. She came in smiling and took her place at the table.

Old Aaron Rockharrt looked up at her in surprise and not altogether with pleasure. Rose Stillwater, seeing his expression of countenance, got a new insight into the mind of the old man whom she had thought she knew so well. During dinner, to cover the embarrassment which covered each member of the small party, Sylvan began to talk of the cadets' ball at West Point on the preceding evening; the distinguished men who were present, the pretty girls with whom he had danced, the best waltzers, and so forth, and then the mischievous scamp added:

"But there wasn't a brunette present as handsome as my sister Cora, nor a blonde as beautiful as my own grandmamma-elect."

When they all left the table, Mrs. Stillwater went to her room, and Mr. Rockharrt took occasion to say:

"I wish you both to understand the programme for to-morrow. There is to be no fuss, no wedding breakfast, no nonsense whatever."

Sylvan thought to himself that the marriage alone was nonsense enough to stand by itself, like a velvet dress, which is spoiled by additions; but he said nothing. Mr. Rockharrt, standing on the rug with his back to the mantlepiece and his hands clasped behind him, continued:

"Sylvan, you will wear a morning suit; Cora, you will wear a visiting costume, just what you would wear to an ordinary church service. Rose will be married in her traveling dress. Immediately after the ceremony we, myself and wife, shall enter a carriage and drive to the railway depot and take the train for Niagara. You two can return here or go to Rockhold or wherever you will. We shall make a short tour of the Falls, lakes, St. Lawrence River, and so on, and probably return to Rockhold by the first of July. I cannot remain long from the works while Fabian is away. Now, am I clearly understood?"

"Very clearly, sir," replied Sylvan, speaking for himself and sister.

"Then, good night; I am going to bed," said the Iron King, and without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room.

"Who ever heard of a man dictating to a woman what she shall wear?" exclaimed Cora.

Sylvan laughed.

"Why, the King of the Cumberland mines would dictate when you should rise from your seat and walk across the room; when you should sit down again; when you should look out of the window, and every movement of your life, if it were not too much trouble. Good night, Cora."

The brother and sister shook hands and parted for the night, each going to his or her respective apartment. Early the next morning the little party met at breakfast. The Iron King looked sullen and defiant, as if he were challenging the whole world to find any objection to his remarkable marriage at their peril. Mrs. Stillwater, in a pretty morning robe of pale blue sarcenet, made very plainly, looked shy, humble, and deprecating, as if begging from all present a charitable construction of her motives and actions. Cora Rothsay looked calm and cold in her usual widow's dress and cap.

Sylvan seemed the only cheerful member of the party, and tried to make conversation out of such trifles as the bill of fare furnished. All were relieved when the party separated and went to their rooms to dress for church. At eleven o'clock they reassembled in the parlor. Mr. Rockharrt wore a new morning suit. He might have been going down to Wall Street instead of to his own wedding. Rose Stillwater wore a navy blue, lusterless silk traveling dress, with hat, veil and gloves to match, all very plain, but extremely becoming to her fresh complexion and ruddy hair. Cora wore her widow's dress of lusterless black silk with mantle, bonnet, veil and gloves to match. Sylvan, like his grandfather, wore a plain morning suit.

"Well, are you all ready?" demanded old Aaron, looking critically upon the party.

"All ready, sir," chirped Sylvan for the others.

"Come, then."

And the aged bridegroom drew the arm of his bride-elect within his own and led the way down stairs and out to the handsome carriage that stood waiting.

He handed her in, put her on the back seat and placed himself beside her.

Sylvan helped his sister into the carriage and followed her. They seated themselves on the front seat opposite the bridal pair.

And the carriage drove off.

"Oh!" suddenly exclaimed old Aaron Rockharrt, rummaging in the breast pocket of his coat and drawing thence a white envelope and handing it to Sylvan; "here, take this and give it to the minister as soon as we come before him."

The young man received the packet and looked inquiringly at the elder. It was really the marriage fee for the officiating clergyman, and a very ostentatious one also; but the Iron King did not condescend to explain anything. He had given it to his grandson with his orders, which he expected to be implicitly obeyed without question. They reached the church, the same church in which they had heard the dean preach on the previous Sunday. They alighted from the carriage and entered the building, old Aaron Rockharrt leading the way with his bride-elect on his arm, Sylvan and Cora following. The church was vacant of all except the minister, who stood in his surplice behind the chancel railing, and the sexton who had opened the door for the party, and was now walking before them up the aisle.

The church was empty, because this, though the wedding of a millionaire, was one of which it might be said that there was "No feast, no cake, no cards, no nothing."

The party reached the altar railing, bowed silently to the minister, who nodded gravely in return, and then formed before the altar—the venerable bridegroom and beautiful bride in the center, Sylvan on the right of the groom, Cora on the left of the bride. The young man performed the mission with which he had been intrusted, and then the ceremony was commenced. It went on smoothly enough until the minister in its proper place asked the question:

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

There was an awful pause.

No one had thought of the necessity of having a "church father" to give away the bride.

The officiating clergyman saw the dilemma at a glance, and quietly beckoned the gray-haired sexton to come up and act as a substitute. But Sylvan Haught, with a twinkle of fun in his eyes, turned his head and whispered to the new comer:

"'After me is manners of you.'"

Then he took the bride's hand and said mightily:—

"I do."

The marriage ceremony went on to its end and was over. Congratulations were offered. The register was signed and witnessed.

And old Aaron Rockharrt led his newly married wife out of the church and put her into the carriage. Then turning around to his grandchildren he said:

"You can walk back to the hotel. See that the porters send off our luggage by express to the Cataract House, Niagara Falls. They have their orders from me, but do you see that these orders are promptly obeyed. Now, good-by."

He shook hands with Sylvan and Cora, and entered the carriage, which immediately rolled off in the direction of the railway station.

The brother and sister walked back to the hotel together.

"It will be a curious study, Cora, to see who will rule in this new firm. I believe it is universally conceded that when an old man marries a pretty young wife, he becomes her slave. But our honored grandfather has been absolute monarch so long that I doubt if he can be reduced to servitude."

"I have no doubts on the subject," replied his sister.

"I have been watching them. He is not subjugated by Rose. He is not foolishly in love with her, at his age. He likes her as he likes other agreeable accessories for his own sake. I have neither respect nor affection for Rose, yet I feel some compassion for her now. Whatever the drudgery of her life as governess may have been since she left us, long ago, it has been nothing, nothing to the penal servitude of the life upon which she has now entered. The hardest-worked governess, seamstress, or servant has some hours in the twenty-four, and some nook in the house that she can call her own where she can rest and be quiet. But Rose Rockharrt will have no such relief! Do I not remember my dear grandmother's life? And my grandfather really did love her, if he ever loved any one on earth. This misguided young woman fondly hopes to be the ideal old man's darling. She deceives herself. She will be his slave, by day and night seldom out of his sight, never out of his service and surveillance. Possibly—for she is not a woman of principle—she may end by running away from her master, and that before long."

Cora's last words brought them to the "Ladies' Entrance" of their hotel.

"Go up stairs, Cora, and I will step into the office and see if there are any letters," said Sylvan.

Mrs. Rothsay went up into their private sitting room, dropped into a chair, took off her bonnet and began to fan herself, for her midday walk had been a very warm one.

Presently Sylvan came up with a letter in his hand.

"For you, Cora, from Uncle Fabian! There is a foreign mail just in."

"Give it to me."

Sylvan handed her the letter, Cora opened it, glanced over it, and exclaimed:

"Uncle Fabian says that he will be home the last of this month."



CHAPTER XVIII.

A CRISIS AT ROCKHOLD.

Brother and sister went to Newport and spent a month. The Dean of Olivet was in the town, but they never met him because they never went into society. Toward the last of June, Corona proposed that they should go at once to Rockhold.

The next morning brother and sister took the early train for New York. On the morning of the second day they took the express train for Baltimore, where they stopped for another night. And on the morning of the third day they took the early train for North End, where they arrived at sunset. They went to the hotel to get dinner and to engage the one hack of the establishment to take them to Rockhold.

Almost the first man they met on the hotel porch was Mr. Clarence, who rushed to meet them.

"Hurrah, Sylvan! Hurrah, old boy! Back again! Why didn't you write or telegraph? How do you do, Cora! Ah! when will you get your roses back, my dear? And how is his Majesty? Why is he not with you? Where did you leave him?" demanded Mr. Clarence in a gale of high spirits at greeting his nephew and niece again.

"He is among the Thousand Islands somewhere with his bride," answered Cora.

"His—what?" inquired Mr. Clarence, with a puzzled air.

"His wife," said Cora.

"His wife? What on earth are you talking about, Cora? You could not have understood my question. I asked you where my father was!" said the bewildered Mr. Clarence.

"And I told you that he is on his wedding trip with his bride, among the Thousand Islands," replied Cora.

Mr. Clarence turned in a helpless manner.

"Sylvan," he said, "tell me what she means, will you?"

"Why, just what she says. Our grandfather and grandmother are on the St. Lawrence, but will be home on the first of July," Sylvan explained.

But Mr. Clarence looked from the brother to the sister and back again in the utmost perplexity.

"What sort of a stupid joke are you two trying to get off?" he inquired.

They had by this time reached the public parlor of the hotel and found seats.

"Is it possible, Uncle Clarence, that you do not know Mr. Rockharrt was married on the thirty-first of last month, in New York, to Mrs. Stillwater?" inquired Cora.

"What! My father!"

"Why should you be amazed or incredulous, Uncle Clarence? The incomprehensible feature, to my mind, is that you should not have heard of the affair directly from grandfather himself. Has he really not written and told you of his marriage?"

"He has never told me a word of his marriage, though he has written a dozen or more letters to me within the last few weeks."

"That is very extraordinary. And did you not hear any rumor of it? Did no one chance to see the notice of it in the papers?"

"No one that I know of. No; I heard no hint of my father's marriage from any quarter, nor had I, nor any one else at Rockhold or at North End, the slightest suspicion of such a thing."

"That is very strange. It must have been in the papers," said Sylvan.

"If it was I did not see it, but, then, I never think of looking at the marriage list."

"I am inclined to think that it never got into the papers. The marriage was private, though not secret. And you, Sylvan, should have seen that the marriage was inserted in all the daily papers. It was your special duty as groomsman. But you must have forgotten it, and I never remembered to remind you of it," said Cora.

"Not I. I never forgot it, because I never once thought of it. Didn't know it was my duty to attend to it. Besides, I had so many duties. Such awful duties! Think of my having to be my own grandmother's church papa and give her away at the altar! That duty reduced me to a state of imbecility from which I have not yet recovered."

"But," said Mr. Clarence, with a look of pain on his fine, genial countenance, "it is so strange that my father never mentioned his marriage in any of his letters to me."

"Perhaps he did not like to mix up sentiment with business," kindly suggested Sylvan.

"I don't think it was a question of sentiment," sighed Mr. Clarence.

"What? Not his marriage?"

"No," sighed Mr. Clarence.

"Well, don't worry about the matter. Let us order dinner and engage the carriage to take us all to Rockhold. How astonished the darkies will be to see us, and how much more astonished to hear the news we have to tell! I wonder if they will take kindly to the rule of the new mistress?" said Sylvan.

"Why did not one of you have the kindness, and thoughtfulness, to write and tell me of my father's marriage?" sorrowfully inquired Mr. Clarence, utterly ignoring the just spoken words of his nephew.

"Dear Uncle Clarence, I should certainly have written and told you all about it at once, if I had not taken for granted that grandfather had informed you of his intention, as was certainly his place to do. And even if I had written to you on any other occasion, I should assuredly have alluded to the marriage. But, you see, I never wrote to any one while away," Cora explained.

"Now, Uncle Clarence, just take Cora's explanation and apology for both of us, will you, for it fits me as well as it does her? And now you two may keep the ball rolling, while I go out and order dinner and engage the hack," said Sylvan, starting for the office.

When he was gone Clarence asked Cora to give him all the details of the extraordinary marriage, and she complied with his request.

"It will make a country talk," said the young man, with a sigh, which Cora echoed.

"And you say they will be home on the first of July?" he inquired.

"Yes," said Cora.

"I wish I had known in time. I would have had old Rockhold Hall prepared as it should be for the reception of my father's bride, though I do so strongly disapprove the marriage. Do you know, Cora, that old house has never had its furniture renewed within my memory? Some of the rooms are positively mouldy and musty. And whoever heard of a wealthy man like my father bringing his wife home to a neglected old country house like Rockhold, without first having it renovated and refurnished?"

"I do not believe he ever once thought of the propriety or necessity of repairing and refitting. His mind is quite absorbed in his new and vast speculations. He spent every day down in Wall Street while we stayed in New York city."

"Well, Corona, this is the twenty-eighth of June, and we have four days before us; for I do not suppose the newly married pair will arrive before the evening of the first of July; so we must do the best we can, my dear, to make the house pleasant in this short time."

"And Uncle Fabian and his wife will be at Rockhold about the same time," added Cora.

"I knew Fabian would be at North End on the first of July, but I did not know that he would go on to Rockhold. I thought he would go on to their new house. So we shall have two brides to welcome, instead of one."

"Yes. And now, Uncle Clarence, will you please ring for a chambermaid? I must go to a bed room and get some of this railroad dust out of my eyes," said Cora.

At nine o'clock in the very warm evening, the three were sitting near the open windows, when they started at the sound of a hearty, genial voice in the adjoining room, inquiring for accommodations for the night.

"It is Fabian!" cried Mr. Clarence, springing up in joy and rushing out of the room to welcome his only and much beloved brother.

The glad voices of the two brothers in greeting reached their ears, and a moment after the door was thrown open again, and Mr. Clarence entered, conducting Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt.

As soon as they found themselves alone, the two brothers took convenient seats to have a talk.

"How goes on the works, Clarence?" inquired Mr. Fabian.

"Very prosperously. You will go through them to-morrow and see for yourself."

"And how goes on the great scheme?"

"Even better than the works. Last reports shares selling at one hundred and thirty."

"Same over yonder. When I left Amsterdam shares selling like hot cakes at a hundred and thirty-one seventenths. How is the governor?" inquired Mr. Fabian.

"As flourishing as a successful financier and septuagenarian bridegroom can be."

"Why!—what do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard the news?"

"What is it? You—you don't mean—"

"Has our father written nothing to you of a very important and utterly unexpected act of his life?"

"No."

"I advised him to marry—"

"You! You! Fabian! You advised our father to do such an absurd thing at his age?"

"I confess I don't see the absurdity of it," quietly replied the elder brother.

"Oh, why did you counsel him to such an act?" inquired Mr. Clarence, more in sorrow than in anger.

"Out of pure good nature. I was getting married myself and wanted everybody to be as happy as I was myself, particularly my old father. Now I wonder he did not write to me of his happiness; but perhaps he has done so and the letter passed me on the sea. When did this marriage take place?"

"On the last day of May."

"Whe-ew! Then there was ample time in which to have written the news to me. And I have had at least half a dozen business letters since the date of his marriage, in any of which he might have mentioned the occurrence had he so chosen. The lady is no longer young. She must be forty-eight, and she is handsome, cultured, dignified and of very high rank. A queenly woman!"

"Do you know whom you are talking about, Fabian?"

"Mrs. Bloomingfield, the lady I recommended, whom father married."

"Oh, indeed; I thought you didn't know what you were talking about or whom you were talking of," said Mr. Clarence.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Our father never accepted your recommendation; never proposed to the handsome, high spirited Mrs. Bloomingfield."

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Fabian. "Whom, then?" "Whom? Whom should he have selected but

"'The Rose that all ad-mi-r-r-?'

"Clarence, what, in the fiend's name, do you mean? Whom has my father married?" demanded Mr. Fabian, starting up and staring at his younger brother.

"Mrs. Rose Flowers Stillwater," replied Mr. Clarence, staring back.

Mr. Fabian dropped back in his chair, while every vestige of color left his face.

"Why, Fabian! Fabian! Why should you care so much as all this? Speak, Fabian; what is the matter?" inquired the younger brother, rising and bending over the elder.

"What is the matter?" cried Mr. Fabian, excitedly. "Ruin is the matter! Ruin, disgrace, dishonor, degradation, an abyss of infamy; that is the matter."

"Oh, come now! see here! that is all wild talk. The young woman was only a nursery governess, to be sure, in our house, and then widow of some skipper or other; but she was respectable, though of humble position."

"Clarence, hush! You know nothing about it!" exclaimed Mr. Fabian, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief, and then getting up and walking the floor with rapid strides.

"I don't understand all this, Fabian. We were all of us a good deal cut up by the event, but nothing like this!" said Mr. Clarence, uneasily.

"No; you don't understand. But listen to me: I was on my way to Rockhold to join in the family reunion, and to show the old homestead to my wife; but I cannot take her there now. I cannot introduce her to the new Mrs. Rockharrt—the new Mrs. Rockharrt!" he repeated, in a tone and with a gesture of disgust and abhorrence. "I shall turn back, and take my wife to our new home; and when I go to Rockhold, I shall go alone."

"Fabian, you make me dreadfully uneasy. What do you know of Rose Stillwater that is to her discredit?" demanded Clarence Rockharrt.

His elder brother paused in his excited walk, dropped his head upon his chest and reflected for a few moments. Then he seemed to recover some degree of self-control and self-recollection. He returned to his chair, sat down, and said:

"Of my own personal knowledge I know nothing against the woman but just this—that she is but half educated, deceitful, and unreliable. And that knowledge I gained by experience after she had first left Rockhold, to which I had first introduced her for a governess to our niece. I had nothing to do with her return to the old hall, and would have never countenanced such a proceeding if I had been in the country."

"That is all very deplorable, but yet it hardly warrants your very strong language, Fabian. I am sorry that you have discovered her to be 'ignorant, deceitful, and unreliable,' but let us hope that now, when she is placed above temptation, she will reform. Don't take exaggerated views of affairs, Fabian."

The elder man was growing calmer and more thoughtful. Presently he said:

"You are right, Clarence. My indignation, on learning that that woman had succeeded in trapping our Iron King, led me into extravagant language on the subject. Forget it, Clarence. And whatever you do, my brother, drop no hint to any one of what I have said to you to-night, lest our father should hear of it; for if he should—"

Mr. Fabian paused.

"I shall never drop a hint that might possibly give our father one moment of uneasiness. Be sure of that, Fabian."

"That is good, my brother! And we will agree to ignore all faults in our young stepmother, and for our father's sake treat her with all proper respect."

"Of course. I could not do otherwise. And, Fabian, I hope you will reconsider the matter, and bring Violet to Rockhold to join our family reunion."

"No, Clarence," said the elder brother; "there is just where I must draw the line. I cannot introduce my wife to the new Mrs. Rockharrt."

"But it seems to me that you are very fastidious, Fabian. Do you expect always to be able to keep Violet from meeting with 'ignorant, insincere and unreliable' people, in a world like this?" inquired Mr. Clarence, significantly.

"No, not entirely, perhaps; yet, so far as in me lies, I will try to keep my simple wood violet 'unspotted from the world,'" replied Mr. Fabian, who, untruthful and dishonest as he was in heart and life, yet reverenced while he wondered at the purity and simplicity of his young wife's nature.

"I am afraid the pater will feel the absence of Violet as a slight to his bride," said Mr. Clarence.

"No; I shall take care that he does not. Violet is in very delicate health, and that must be her excuse for staying at home."

The brothers talked on for a little while longer; and then, when they had exhausted the subject for the time being, Mr. Clarence said he would go and look up Sylvan, and he went out for the purpose. Fabian Rockharrt, left alone, resumed his disturbed walk up and down the room, muttering to himself:

"The traitress! the unprincipled traitress! How dared she do such a deed? Didn't she know that I could expose her, and have her cast forth in ignominy from my father's house? Or did she venture all in the hope that consideration of my father's age and position in the world would shut my mouth and stay my hand? She is mistaken, the jade! Unless she falls into my plans, and works for my interest, she shall be exposed and degraded from her present position."

Mr. Fabian was interrupted by the re-entrance of Mrs. Rothsay. He turned to meet her and inquired:

"Where did you leave Violet, my dear?"

"She is in her own room, which is next to mine. I went in with her and saw her to bed, and waited until she went to sleep," replied Cora.

"Poor little one! She is very fragile, and has been very much fatigued. I do not think, my dear, that I can take her on to Rockhold to-morrow. I think I must let her rest here for a day or two."

"It would be best, not only on account of Violet's delicacy and weariness, but also on account of the condition of the house at Rockhold, which has not been opened or aired for months."

"That is true; though I had not thought of it before," said Mr. Fabian, who was well pleased that Cora so readily fell in with his plans.

"What do you think of the pater's marriage, Cora?' he next inquired.

"I would rather not give an opinion, Uncle Fabian," she answered.

"Then I am equally well answered, for that is giving a very strong opinion!" he exclaimed.

"The deed is done and cannot be undone!"

"Can it not? Perhaps it can!"

"What do you mean, Uncle Fabian?"

"Nothing that you need trouble yourself about, my dear. But tell me this—what do you mean to do, Cora? Do you mean to stay on at Rockhold?"

"I suppose I must do so."

"Not at all, if you do not like! You are an independent widow and may go where you please."

"I know that and wish to go; but I do not wish to make a scene or cause a scandal by leaving my grandfather's protection so suddenly after his marriage, which is open enough to criticism, as it is. So I must stay on at Rockhold so long as Sylvan's leave shall last, and until he shall receive his commission and orders. Then I will go with him wherever his duty may call him."

"Good girl! You have decided well and wisely. Though the post of duty to which the callow lieutenantling will be ordered must, of course, be Fort Jumping Off Point, at the extreme end of the habitable globe. Well, my dear, I must bid you good night, for, see, it is on the stroke of eleven o'clock, and I am rather tired from my journey, for, you must know, we rushed it through from New York to North End without lying over," said Mr. Fabian, as he shook hands with his niece.

He retired, and his example was soon followed by all his party.



CHAPTER XIX.

A FAMILY REUNION.

The next morning, after an early breakfast, the travelers assembled in the hall of the hotel to take leave of each other. Clarence, Sylvan, and Cora entered the capacious carriage of the establishment to drive to Rockhold, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt on the porch of the hotel, at which they had decided to rest for a few days.

"We shall go to Rockhold to welcome the king and queen when they return, Cora," said Mr. Fabian, waving his hand to the departed trio, though he had not the least intention of keeping his word. He then led his pretty Violet into the house. The lumbering carriage rolled along the village street, passed the huge buildings of the locomotive works, and out into the road that lay between the fool of the range of mountains and the banks of the river.

The ferryboat was at the wharf, and the broad shouldered negro dwarf was standing on it, pole in hand.

His look of surprise and delight on seeing Sylvan and Cora was good to behold.

"Why, Lors bress my po' ole soul, young marse an' miss, is yer come sure 'nough? 'Deed I's moughty proud to see yer. How's de ole marse? When he coming back agin?" he queried, as the carriage rolled slowly across the gangplank from the wharf to the deck of the ferryboat.

"Your ole marse is quite well, Uncle Moses, and will be home on the first of the month with his new wife," said Sylvan, who could not miss the fun of telling this rare bit of news to the aged ferryman.

The old negro dropped his pole into the water, opened his mouth and eyes to their widest extent and gasped and stared.

"Wid—w'ich?" he said, at last.

"With his new wife and your new mistress," answered Sylvan.

The old negro dropped his chin on his chest, raised his knobby black fingers to his head and scratched his gray hair with a look of quaint perplexity, as he muttered,

"Now I wunner ef I tuk too heavy a pull on to dat dar rum jug, fo' I lef de house dis mornin'—I wunner if I did."

His mate stopped and pulled the pole up out of the water and began himself to push off the boat until it was afloat.

They soon reached the opposite shore, drove off the boat and up the avenue between the flowering locust trees that formed a long, green, fragrant arch above their heads, and so on to the gray old house. In a very few moments the door was opened and all the household servants appeared to welcome the returning party. Most of them looked more frightened than pleased; but when anxious glances toward the group leaving the carriage assured them that the family "Boodlejock" was not present, they seemed relieved and delighted to see the others.

With the easy, respectful familiarity of long and faithful service, the negro men and women crowded around the entering party with loving greetings.

The news of the Iron King's marriage was told by Sylvan. Had a bombshell fallen and exploded among the servants, they could not have been more shocked. There was a simultaneous exclamation of surprise and dismay, and then total silence.

At the end of the third day all was ready for the reception of Mr. and Mrs. Rockharrt.

The next day was the first of July. As soon as Mr. Clarence reached his private office at the works he found a telegram waiting him. He opened it, and read the following:

CAPON SPRINGS, July 1, 18—

Shall reach North End by the 6 p.m. train. Send the carriage to meet that train. Shall go directly to Rockhold. Order dinner there for 8 p.m.

AARON ROCKHARRT.

Mr. Clarence put a boy on horseback and sent him on to Cora, with this message inclosed in a note from himself. And then he gave his attention to the duties of his office. He was still busy at his desk when Mr. Fabian strolled in.

"Well, old man, good morning. I return to duty to-day, because it is the first of the month, you know."

"And also the first of the financial year. There has been so much to do within the last few days, I am glad you have returned to your post. I would like the pater to find all right when he comes to inspect. By the way, I have just got a telegram from him. I have just sent it off to Cora, so that she may know when to send the carriage, and for what hour to order dinner. You know it would never do to have anything 'gang aglee' in which the pater is interested."

"No. Well, you and I must go to meet him. We must not fail in any attention to the old gentleman."

"Of course not. Oh! what will the people say when they hear the news? I do not think that the slightest rumor of the mad marriage has got out I know that I have not breathed it."

"Nor I. But of course it will be generally known within twenty-four hours; and then I hope the pater will do the handsome thing and give his workmen a general holiday and jollification."

"I doubt it, since he has not even refurnished the shabby old drawing room at Rockhold in honor of the occasion," said Mr. Clarence.

Then the brothers separated for the day.

Whenever the family traveling carriage happened to be sent from Rockhold to the North End railway depot, it always stopped at the North End Hotel to rest and water the horses. So when the afternoon waned, as Messrs. Fabian and Clarence Rockharrt had to remain busy in their respective offices up to the last possible minute, Sylvan was stationed on the front porch of the hotel, with the day's newspapers and a case of cigars to solace him while watching for the carriage.

It came at a quarter to five o'clock, and while the horses were resting and feeding, Sylvan sent a messenger to summon his two uncles. By the time the two horses were ready to start again, the two men came up and entered the carriage. Sylvan followed them in.

"See here, my boy," said Mr. Fabian, "you can't go, you know. There will be no room for you coming back. Clarence and myself fill two seats, and your grandfather and—"

"Grandmother fill up the other," added Sylvan. "But never mind; in coming back I can ride on the box with the coachman; but go I will to meet my venerable grandparents! Bless my wig! didn't I give away my grandmother at the altar, and shall I not pay them the attention of going to meet them on their return from their wedding tour?"

The horses started at a good pace, passed through the village street, entered the main road running miles between the great works, and rolled on into the silent forest road that led to the railway depot in the valley.

Here the carriage drew up before the solitary station house.

Soon the train ran in and stopped. Old Aaron Rockharrt got out and handed down his wife, before turning to face his sons. A man and maid servant, loaded down with handbags, umbrellas, waterproofs, and shawls, got out of another car.

"Fabian, put Mrs. Rockharrt into the carriage. I shall step into the waiting room to speak to the ticket agent," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he strode off to the building.

Fabian Rockharrt gave his arm to the lady, who during all this time had remained closely veiled. He led her off, leaving Clarence and Sylvan on the platform to wait for the return of Mr. Rockharrt. As soon as Fabian and his companion were out of hearing of the rest of their party, he turned to her, and bending his head close to her ear, said:

"Well, Ann White, what have you to say for yourself, eh, Ann White?"

He felt her tremble as she answered defiantly:

"Mrs. Rockharrt, if you please."

"No; by my life I will never give to such as you my honored mother's name!"

"And yet I have it with all the rights and privileges it bestows, and I defy you, Fabian Rockharrt!"

"You know very little of the laws relating to marriage if you think that you have legal right to the name and position you have seized, or that I have not power to thrust you out of my father's house and into a cell."

"You are insolent! I shall report your words to Mr. Rockharrt, and then we shall see who will be thrust out of his house!"

"I think that you had better not. Listen, and I will tell you something that you do not know, perhaps."

She turned quickly, inquiringly, toward him. He stooped and whispered a few words. He felt her thrill from head to foot, felt her rock and sway for a moment, and then—he had just time to catch her before she fell a dead weight in his arms.



CHAPTER XX.

THE WHISPERED WORDS.

"Well! what's all this?" abruptly demanded old Aaron Rockharrt, as he came up, followed by Clarence and Sylvan, just as Fabian was lifting the unconscious woman into the carriage.

"Mrs. Rockharrt has been over-fatigued, I think, sir, for she has fainted. But don't be alarmed; she is recovering," said Mr. Fabian, as he settled the lady in an easy position in a corner of the carriage, and found a smelling salts bottle and put it to her nose.

"'Alarmed?' Why should I be?"

"No reason why, sir," answered Mr. Fabian, who then stooped to the woman and whispered: "Nor need you be so. You are safe for the present."

"Will you get out of my way and let me come to my place?" demanded the Iron King.

"Pardon me, sir," said Fabian, stepping backward from the carriage.

"Fainting?" said the old man, in a tone of annoyance, as he took his seat beside his new wife—"fainting? The first Mrs. Rockharrt never fainted in her life; nor ever gave any sort of trouble. What's the matter with you, Rose? Don't be a consummate fool and turn nervous. I won't stand any nonsense," he said roughly, as he peered into the pale face of his new slave.

"Oh, it is nothing," she faltered—"nothing. I was overcome by heat. It is a very hot day."

"Why, it is a very cool afternoon. What do you mean?" he demanded.

"It has been a very hot day, and the heat and fatigue—"

"Rubbish!" he interrupted. "If I were to give any attention to your faints, you would be fainting every day just to have a fuss made over you. Now this fainting business has got to be stopped. Do you hear? If you are out of order, I will send for my family physician and have you examined. If you are really ill, you shall be put under medical treatment; if you are not, I will have no fine lady airs and affectations. The first Mrs. Rockharrt was perfectly free from them."

"I would not have given way to the weakness if I could have helped it—indeed I would not!" said the poor woman, very sincerely.

"We'll see to that!" retorted the Iron King.

Ah, poor Rose! She was not the old man's darling and sovereign, as she had hoped and planned to be. She was the tyrant's slave and victim.

A man of Aaron Rockharrt's temperament seldom, at the age of seventy-seven, becomes a lover; and never, at any age, a woman's slave.

Mr. Fabian now got into the carriage, and sat down on the front cushion opposite his father and step-mother. Mr. Clarence was following him in, when Mr. Rockharrt roughly interfered.

"What are you about here, Clarence? What are you going to do?"

"Take my seat in the carriage, of course, sir," answered the young man, with a surprised look.

"You are going to do nothing of the sort! I don't choose to have the horses overtasked in this manner. I myself, with Fabian and my coachman, to say nothing of Mrs. Rockharrt, are weight enough for one pair of horses, and you can't come in here. Where's Sylvan?"

"On the box seat beside the driver."

"Really?" demanded the Iron King, in a sarcastic tone, "How many more of you desire to be drawn by one pair of horses? Tell Sylvan to come down off that."

"But, sir, there is not a single conveyance of any description at the station," urged Clarence.

"Indeed! And pray what do you call your own two pairs of sturdy legs? Are they not strong enough to convey you from here to North End, where you can get the hotel hack? And, by the way, why did you not engage the hack to come here and take you back?"

"Because it was out, sir."

"Then you two should not have come here to over-load the horses. But as you have come, you must walk back. Has Sylvan got off his perch? Ah, yes; I see. Well, tell the coachman to drive first to the North End Hotel. And do you two long-legged calves walk after it. If the hack should be still out when we get there, you can stay at the hotel until it comes in."

"All right, sir," said Clarence, good humoredly; and he closed the door, and gave the order to the coachman, who immediately started his horses on the way to North End.

On the way home Mr. Clarence inquired of his nephew when he expected to receive his commission and where he expected to be ordered.

"How can I tell you? I must wait for a vacancy, I suppose, and then be sent to the Devil's Icy Peak or Fort Jumping Off Place, or some such other pleasant post of duty on the confines of terra incognita. But the farther off, the stranger and the savager it is, the better I shall like it for my own sake, but it will be rough on Cora," said the youth.

"But you do not dream of taking Cora out there?" exclaimed Clarence, in pained surprise.

"Oh, but I do! She insists on going where I go. She is bent on being a voluntary, unsalaried missionary and school-mistress to the Indians just because Rule died a martyred minister and teacher among them."

"She is mad!" exclaimed Mr. Clarence; "mad."

"She has had enough to make her mad, but she is sane enough on this subject, I can tell you, Uncle Clarence. She is the most level-headed young woman that I know, and the plan of life that she has laid out for herself is the best course she could possibly pursue under the present circumstances. She is very miserable here. This plan will give her the most complete change of scene and the most interesting occupation. It will cure her of her melancholy and absorption in her troubled past, and when she shall be cured she may return to her friends here, or she may meet with some fine fellow out there who may make her forget the dead and leave off her weeds. That is what I hope for, Uncle Clarence."

And for the rest of their walk they trudged on in silence or with but few words passed between them. It was sunset when they reached North End.

That evening when Sylvan and Cora found themselves together for a moment at Rockhold House, the youth said:

"Corona Rothsay, the sooner I get my orders and you and I depart for Scalping Creek or Perdition Peak, or wherever I am to be shoveled off to, the better, my dear," said the young soldier.

"What do you think of it all now, Sylvan?" she inquired.

"I think, Cora, that while we do stay here it would be Christian charity to be very good to 'the Rose that all admire.' Nobody will admire her any more, I think."

"Why?" inquired Cora, in surprise.

"Oh, you didn't see her face. She had her mask veil, do you call it?—down, so you couldn't see. But, oh, my conscience! how she is changed in these last six weeks! She is not a blooming rose any more. She is a snubbed, trampled on, crushed, and wilted rose. Her face looks pale; her hair dull; her eyes weak; her beauty nowhere; her cheerfulness nowhere else."

Early the next morning, after a hasty breakfast, Mr. Rockharrt entered his carriage to drive to the works. Young Mrs. Rockharrt, under the plea of fatigue from her long journey, retired to her own room.

Cora said to her brother:

"Sylvan, I wish you would order the little carriage and take me to the Banks to see Violet. I should have paid her this attention sooner but for the pressure of work that has been upon me. I must defer it no longer, but go this morning."

"All right, Cora!" answered the young man, and he left the room to do his errand.

Cora went up stairs to get ready for her drive.

In about fifteen minutes the two were seated in the little open landau, that had been the gift of the late Mrs. Rockharrt to her beloved granddaughter, and that the latter always used when driving out in the country around Rockhold during the summer.

They did not have to cross the ferry, as the new house of Fabian Rockharrt was on the same side of the river as was Rockhold.

The road on this west side was, however, much rougher, though the scenery was much finer.

They drove on through the woods, which here clothed the foot of the mountain and grew quite down to the water's edge, meeting over their heads and casting the road into deep shadow.

They drove on for about three miles, when they came to a point where another road wound up the mountain side, through heavy woods, and brought them to a beautiful plateau, on which stood the handsome house of Fabian Rockharrt, in the midst of its groves, flower gardens, arbors, orchards and conservatories.

It was a double, two-storied house, of brown stone, with a fine green background of wooded mountain, and a front view of the river below and the mountains beyond. There were bay windows at each end and piazzas along the whole front.

As the carriage drew up before the door, Violet was discovered walking up and down the front porch. She looked very fragile, but very pretty with her slight, graceful figure in a morning dress of white muslin, with blue ribbons at her throat and in her pale gold hair.

She came down to meet her visitors.

"Oh, I am so glad you have come, Cora and Sylvan!" she said, throwing her arms around the young lady and kissing her heartily, and then giving her hand and offering her cheek for a greeting from the young man.

"I fear you must be lonely here, Violet," said Cora.

"Awfully lonesome after Fabian has gone away in the morning, Cora. It would be such a charity in you to come and stay with me for a little while! Come in now and we will talk about it," said the little lady, as she led the way back to the house.

"Sylvan," she continued, as they paused for a moment on the porch, "send your coachman around to the stable to put up your carriage. You and Cora will spend the day with me at the very least."

"Just as Cora pleases; ask her," said the young man with a glance toward his sister.

"Yes," she answered.

"You are a love!" exclaimed Violet as she led the way into the hall and thence into a pleasant morning room.

Cora laid off her bonnet and sank into an easy chair by the front window.

"Now, as soon as you are well rested, I wish to show you both over the house and grounds. Such a charming house, Cora! Such beautiful grounds, Sylvan!" exclaimed the proud little mistress.

Cora smiled approval, but did not explain that she herself had gone all through the establishment several times, in the course of its fitting up, to see that all things were arranged properly before the arrival of the married pair.

And when, a little later, the trio went through the rooms, she expressed as much pleasure in their appearance as if she had never seen them before.

The brother and sister spent a very pleasant day at Violet Banks, and when in the cool of the evening they would have taken leave, the young wife pleaded with them to stay all night.