THE AMERICAN BARON. thought made him see the necessity of guard- From these thoughts he was at last roused It was Girasole. The presence of the corpse only added to the gloom of Hawbury's situation, and he once more turned his face to the wall, so as to shut out the sight. Once more he gave himself up to his own thoughts, and so the time passed slowly on. He heard no sounds now from the room where Miss Fay was confined. He heard no noise from the men below, and could not tell whether they were still guarding the door, or Various projects came to had gone away. him, foremost among which was the idea of escaping. Bribery seemed the only possible way. There was about this, however, the same difficulty which Mrs. Willoughby had found-ture, and calmly surveyed the Italian. his ignorance of the language. He thought that this would be an effectual bar to any communication, and saw no other alternative than to wait Girasole's pleasure. It seemed to him that a ransom would be asked, and he felt sure, from Girasole's offensive manner, that the ransom would be large. But there was no help for it. He felt more troubled about Miss Fay, for Girasole's remarks about her seemed to point to views of his own which were incompatible with her liberation. He entered slowly, with folded arms, and coming about half-way, he stood and surveyed the prisoner in silence. Hawbury, with a sudden effort, brought himself up to a sitting pos "Well," asked Hawbury, "I should like to know how long you intend to keep up this sort of thing? What are you going to do about it? Name your price, man, and we'll discuss it, and settle upon something reasonable." 'My price?" repeated Girasole, with peculiar emphasis. you fellows. You've caught me, "Yes. Of course I understand It's your trade, you know. and, of course, you'll try to make the best of me, and all that sort of thing. So don't keep me waiting.' In the midst of these reflections another noise "Inglis milor," said Girasole, with a sharp, It was a steady tramp of two or arose below. three men walking. The noise ascended the quick accent, his face flushing up as he spoke Haw-"Inglis milor, dere is no price as you mean, De price is one dat you will stairway, and drew nearer and nearer. bury turned once more, and saw two men enter-an' no ransom. ingthe room, carrying between them a box about not wis to pay." "Oh, come now, my good fellow, really you six feet long and eighteen inches or two feet Bother your Italian wide. It was coarsely but strongly made, and must remember that I'm tied up, and not in a was undoubtedly intended as a coffin for the position to be chaffed. Don't speak in these confounded corpse of the brigand. The men put the coffin humbug! After a figures of speech, you know, but say up and down against the wall and retired. few minutes they returned again with the coffin down-how much?" lid. They then lifted the dead body into the coffin, and one of them put the lid in its place Aftand secured it with half a dozen screws. er this Hawbury was once more left alone. He found this far more tolerable, for now he had no longer before his very eyes the abhorrent Hidden in its coffin, sight of the dead body. it no longer gave offense to his sensibilities. Once more, therefore, Hawbury turned his thoughts toward projects of escape, and discussed in his mind the probabilities for and against. "De brigands haf talk you ovair, an' dey will haf no price." "What the devil is all that rot about ?" "Yes." "And pray, my good fellow, what good is that going to do them ?" What "It is vengeance," said Girasole. "Vengeance? Pooh! Nonsense! What have I ever done ?" "Dat-dere-his blood," said Girasole, pointing to the coffin. rot! "What! that scoundrel? Why, man alive, are you crazy? That was a fair stand-up fight. That is, it was two English against twenty Italians, if you call that fair; but perhaps it is. His blood! By Jove! Cool, that! Come, I like it." The day had been long, and longer still did it seem to the captive as hour after hour passed slowly by. He could not look at his watch, which his captors had spared; but from the shadows as they fell through the windows, and from the general appearance of the sky, he knew that the close of the day was not far off. "An' more," said Girasole, who now grew He began to wonder that he was left so long I condemn you." alone and in suspense, and to feel impatient to more excited. "It is not de brigand who conknow the worst as to his fate. Why did not demn you; it is also me. "You?" said Hawbury, elevating his eyeWhere was some of them come to tell him? "And what the devil's this Girasole? Was he the chief? Were the brig-brows in some surprise, and fixing a cool stare ands debating about his fate, or were they thus upon Girasole. What have you against me?" leaving him in suspense so as to make him de- row about, I should like to know? I don't spondent and submissive to their terms? From know you. Inglis milor," cried Girasole, who was all that he had ever heard of brigands and their ways, the latter seemed not unlikely; and this stung to the quick by a certain indescribable yet most irritating superciliousness in Hawbury's tone-Inglis milor, you sall see what you sall soffair. You sall die! Dere is no hope. You are condemn by de brigand. You also are condemn by me, for you insult me." "Well, of all the beastly rot I ever heard, this is about the worst! What do you mean by all this infernal nonsense? Insult you! What would I insult you for? Why, man alive, you're as mad as a March hare! If I thought you were a gentleman, I'd-by Jove, I will, too! See here, you fellow: I'll fight you for it-pistols, or any thing. Come, now. I'll drop all considerations of rank. I'll treat you as if you were a real count, and not a sham one. Come, now. What do you say? Shall we have it out? Pistols-in the woods there. You've got all your infernal crew around you, you know. Well? What? You won't? By de pistol, but not in de duello. I sall blow your brain out myself." "Blow and be hanged, then!" said Hawbury. And with these words he fell back on his straw, and took no further notice of the Italian. CHAPTER XXVIII. TORN ASUNDER. WHEN Dacres made his attempt upon the house he was not so unobserved as he supposed himself to be. Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby happened at that time to be sitting on the floor by the window, one on each side, and they were looking out. They had chosen the seat as affording some prospect of the outer world. There was in Mrs. Willoughby a certain instinctive feeling that if any rescne came, it Jove!" Girasole's gesture showed that he declined would come from the land side; and, therefore, the proposition. "Inglis milor," said he, with a venomous glitter in his eyes, "I sall haf youair life-wis though the hope was faint indeed, it nevertheless was sufficiently well defined to inspire her with an uneasy and incessant vigilance. Thus, then, she had seated herself by the window, and Minnie had taken her place on the opposite side, and the two sisters, with clasped hands, sat listening to the voices of the night. At length they became aware of a movement upon the bank just above them and lying opposite. The sisters clasped one another's hands more closely, and peered earnestly through the gloom. It was pretty dark, and the forest threw down a heavy shadow, but still their eyes were by this time accustomed to the dark, and they could distinguish most of the objects there. Among these they soon distinguished a moving figure; but what it was, whether man or beast, they could not make out. This moving figure was crawling down the bank. There was no cover to afford concealment, and it was evident that he was trusting altogether to the concealment of the darkness. It was a hazardous experiment, and Mrs. Willoughby trembled in suspense. Minnie, however, did not tremble at all, nor was the suspense at all painful. When Mrs. Willoughby first cautiously directed her attention to it in a whisper, Minnie thought it was some animal. "Why, Kitty dear," she said, speaking back in a whisper, "why, it's an animal; I wonder if the creature is a wild beast. I'm sure I think it's very dangerous, and no doors or windows. But it's always the way. He wouldn't give me a chair; and so I dare say I shall be eaten up by a bear before morning." Minnie gave utterance to this expectation without the slightest excitement, just as though the prospect of becoming food for a bear was one of the very commonest incidents of her life. "Oh, I don't think it's a bear." "Well, then, it's a tiger or a lion, or perhaps a wolf. I'm sure I don't see what difference it makes what one is eaten by, when one has to be eaten." "It's a man!" said Mrs. Willoughby, tremulously. "A man!-nonsense, Kitty darling. A man walks; he doesn't go on all-fours, except when he is very, very small." "Hush! it's some one coming to help us. Watch him, Minnie dear. Oh, how dangerous !" "Do you really think so?" said Minnie, with evident pleasure. "Now that is really kind. But I wonder who it can be?" Mrs. Willoughby squeezed her hand, and made no reply. She was watching the slow and cautious movement of the shadowy figure. "He's coming nearer!" said she, tremulously. Minnie felt her sister's hand throb at the quick movement of her heart, and heard her short, quick breathing. "Who can it be, I wonder?" said Minnie, full of curiosity, but without any excitement at all. "Oh, Minnie!" "What's the matter, darling?" "It's so terrible." "What?" "This suspense. Oh, I'm so afraid!" "Afraid! Why, I'm not afraid at all.” "Oh! he'll be caught." "No, he won't," said Minnie, confidently. "I knew he'd come. They always do. Don't be afraid that he'll be caught, or that he'll fail. They never fail. They always will save me. Wait till your life has been saved as often as mine has, Kitty darling. Oh, I expected it all! I was thinking a little while ago he ought to be here soon." "He! Who?" "Why, any person; the person who is going to save me this time. I don't know, of course, who he is; some horrid man, of course. And then-oh dear!-I'll have it all over again. He'll carry me away on his back, and through those wretched woods, and bump me against the trees and things. Then he'll get me to the road, and put me on a horrid old horse, and gallop away. And by that time it will be morning. And then he'll propose. And so there'll be another. And I don't know what I shall do about it. Oh dear!" Mrs. Willoughby had not heard half of this. All her soul was intent upon the figure outside. She only pressed her sister's hand, and gave a warning "Hus-s-s-h!" "I know one thing I do wish," said Minnie. Her sister made no reply. "I do wish it would turn out to be that nice, dear, good, kind Rufus K. Gunn. I don't want any more of them. And I'm sure he's nicer than this horrid Count, who wouldn't take the trouble to get me even a chair. And yet he pretends to be fond of me." "Hus-s-s-h!" said her sister. But Minnie was irrepressible. But, "I don't want any horrid stranger. oh, Kitty darling, it would be so awfully funny if he were to be caught! and then he couldn't propose, you know." By this time the figure had reached the house. Minnie peeped over and looked down. Then she drew back her head and sighed. "Oh dear!" she said, in a plaintive tone. "What, darling?" "Why, Kitty darling, do you know he really looks a little like that great, big, horrid man that ran with me down the volcano, and then pretended he was my dear papa. And here he comes to save me again. Oh, what shall I do? Won't you pretend you're me, Kitty darling, and please go yourself? Oh, ple-e-ease do!" But now Minnie was interrupted by two strong hands grasping the window-sill. A moment after a shadowy head arose above it. Mrs. Willoughby started back, but through the gloom she was able to recognize the strongly marked face of Scone Dacres. For a moment he stared through the darkness. Then he flung his elbow over. There arose a noise below. There was a rush. The figure disappeared from the win dow. A furious struggle followed, in the midst | pleasant, I sall not be able to low you to stay of which arose fierce oaths and deep breathings, to-morra wit de mees when se become my Conand the sound of blows. Then the struggle tessa." subsided, and they heard footsteps tramping heavily. They followed the sound into the house. They heard men coming up the stairs and into the hall outside. Then they all moved into the front-room opposite theirs. After a few minutes they heard the steps descending the stairs. By this they judged that the prisoner had been taken to that room which was on the other side of the hall and in the front of the house. Mrs. Willoughby flung her arms about her sister, and clasped her in a convulsive embrace. "Well, Kitty darling," said Minnie, "don't cry, or you'll make me cry too. It's just what we might have expected, you know. He's been as unkind as he could be about the chair, and of course he'll do all he can to tease me. Don' cry, dear. You must go, I suppose, since that horrid man talks and scolds so about it; only be sure to be back early; but how I am ever to "There dies our last hope!" said Mrs. Wil-pass the night here all alone and standing up, loughby, and burst into tears. "I'm sure I don't see what you're crying about," said Minnie. "You certainly oughtn't to want me to be carried off again by that person. If he had me, he'd never give me up-especially after saving me twice." Mrs. Willoughby made no reply, and the sisters sat in silence for nearly an hour. They were then aroused by the approach of footsteps which entered the house; after which voices were heard below. Then some one ascended the stairs, and they saw the flicker of a light. It was Girasole. He came into the room with a small lamp, holding his hand in front of the flame. This lamp he set down in a corner out of the draught, and then turned to the ladies. "Miladi," said Girasole, in a gentle voice, "I am ver pained to haf to tella you dat it is necessaire for you to separat dis night-till tomorra." "To separate?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby. "Only till to-morra, miladi. Den you sall be togeder foravva. But it is now necessaire. Dere haf ben an attemp to a rescue. I mus guard again dis-an' it mus be done by a separazion. If you are togeder you might run. Dis man was almos up here. It was only chance dat I saw him in time." "Oh, Sir," cried Mrs. Willoughby, "you can not-you will not separate us. You can not have the heart to. I promise most solemnly that we will not escape if you only leave us together." I'm sure I don't know." "Charm "Alone? Oh no," said Girasole. ing mees, you sall not be alone; I haf guard for dat. I haf sent for a maid." "But I don't want any of your horrid old maids. I want my own maid, or none at all." "Se sall be your own maid. I haf sent for her." "What, my own maid ?-Dowlas ?" "I am ver sorry, but it is not dat one. It is anoder-an Italian." "Well, I think that is very unkind, when you know I can't speak a word of the language. But you always do all you can to tease me. I wish I had never seen you." Girasole looked hurt. "Charming mees," said he, "I will lay down my life for you." "But I don't want you to lay down your life. I want Dowlas." "Do not mourn. You sall be able to talk to de prisonaire and get consolazion. But come." With these words Girasole led the way out Girasole shook his head. into the hall, and into the front-room on the "I can not," said he, firmly; “de mees is opposite side. He carried the lamp in his too precious. I dare not. If you are prison-hand. Mrs. Willoughby saw a figure lying at aire se will not try to fly, an' so I secure her de more; but if you are togeder you will find some help. You will bribe de men. I can not trust dem." "Oh, do not separate us. Tie us. Bind us. Fasten us with chains. Fasten me with chains, but leave me with her." "Chains? nonsance; dat is impossibile. Chains? no, miladi. You sall be treat beautiful. No chain, no; notin but affection-till to-morra, an' den de mees sall be my wife. De priest haf come, an' it sall be allaright tomorra, an' you sall be wit her again. An' now you haf to come away; for if you do not be the other end of the room on the floor. His face was turned toward them, but in the darkness she could not see it plainly. Some straw was heaped up in the corner next her. Soon all was still. IN a few moments Girasole came back and entered Minnie's room. He was followed by a woman who was dressed in the garb of an Italian peasant girl. Over her head she wore a hood to protect her from the night air, the limp folds of which hung over her face. Minnie looked carelessly at this woman and then at Girasole. "Charming mees," said Girasole, "I haf brought you a maid for dis night. When we leaf dis you sall haf what maid you wis." "That horrid old fright!" said Minnie. don't want her." "I "You sall only haf her for dis night," said Girasole. "You will be taken care for." "I suppose nobody cares for what I want,' said Minnie," and I may as well speak to the wall, for all the good it does." Girasole smiled and bowed, and put his hand on his heart, and then called down the stairs: "Padre Patricio!" A solid, firm step now sounded on the stairs, and in a few moments the priest came up. Girasole led the way into Hawbury's room. The prisoner lay on his side. He was in a deep sleep. Girasole looked in wonder at the sleeper who was spending in this way the last hours of his life, and then pointed to the coffin. "Here," said he, in Italian, "is the body. When the grave is dug they will tell you. You must stay here. You will not be afraid to be with the dead." The priest smiled. The Italian woman had been standing where she had stopped ever since she first came into the room. Minnie had not paid any attention to her, but at last she noticed this. way. "I wish you wouldn't stand there in that You really make me feel quite nervous. And what with the dark, and not having any light, and losing poor dear Kitty, and not having any chair to sit upon, really one's life is scarce worth having. But all this is thrown away, as you can't speak English-and how horrid it is to have no one to talk to." The woman made no reply, but with a quiet, stealthy step she drew near to Minnie. "What do you want? You horrid creature, keep away," said Minnie, drawing back in some alarm. "Minnie dear!" said the woman. "H-s-s-s-h!" she added, in a low whisper. He was sent for, you know; and I. thought I could help you, and he is going to save you." "He! Who?" "The priest, you know." "The priest! Is he a Roman Catholic priest, Ethel darling?" "Yes, dear." "And he is going to save me this time, is he?" "I hope so, dear." "Oh, how perfectly lovely that is! and it was so kind and thoughtful in you! Now this is really quite nice, for you know I've longed so to be saved by a priest. These horrid men, you know, all go and propose the moment they save one's life; but a priest can't, you know-no, not if he saved one a thousand times over. Can he now, Ethel darling?" "Oh no!" said Ethel, in a little surprise. "But stop, darling. You really must not say another word-no, not so much as a whisperfor we certainly will be heard; and don't notice what I do, or the priest either, for it's very, very important, dear. But you keep as still as a little mouse, and wait till we are all Girasole now retreated and went down stairs. ready." |