thought.

“For Heaven's sake, John,” she cried earnestly, “do nothing of the kind. He would whip us all away in the dead of the night, and within a week we should be settling down again in some wilderness where we might never have a chance of seeing or hearing from you again. Besides, he never would forgive us for venturing out of the grounds.”

“I don't think that he is a hard-hearted man,” I remarked. “I have seen a kindly look in his eyes, for all his stern face.”

“He can be the kindest of fathers,” she answered. “But he is terrible when opposed or thwarted. You have never seen him so, and I trust you never will. It was that strength of will and impatience of opposition which made him such a splendid officer. I assure you that in India everyone thought a great deal of him. The soldiers were afraid of him, but they would have followed him anywhere.”

“And had he these nervous attacks then?”

“Occasionally, but not nearly so acutely. He seems to think that the danger--whatever it may be--becomes more imminent every year. Oh, John, it is terrible to be waiting like this with a sword over our heads --and all the more terrible to me since I have no idea where the blow is to come from.”

“Dear Gabriel,” I said, taking her hand and drawing her to my side, “look over all this pleasant countryside and the broad blue sea. Is it not all peaceful and beautiful? In these cottages, with their red-tiled roofs peeping out from the grey moor, there live none but simple, God-fearing men, who toil hard at their crafts and bear enmity to no man. Within seven miles of us is a large town, with every civilized appliance for the preservation of order. Ten miles farther there is a garrison quartered, and a telegram would at any time bring down a company of soldiers. Now, I ask you, dear, in the name of common-sense, what conceivable danger could threaten you in this secluded neighborhood, with the means of help so near? You assure me that the peril is not connected with your father's health?”

“No, I am sure of that. It is true that Dr. Easterling, of Stranraer, has been over to see him once or twice, but that was merely for some small indisposition. I can assure you that the danger is not to be looked for in that direction.”

“Then I can assure you,” said I, laughing, “that there is no danger at all. It must be some strange monomania or hallucination. No other hypothesis will cover the facts.”

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