But all his watching gave him no assist- as her declaration that she was not Arethusa. ance toward finding out any way of rescuing He stood bewildered. While she was listenEthel. He saw the vigilant guard around ing to the sounds, he was listening to the the prisoners. Once or twice he saw a echo of her words; while she was wondermovement among them, but it was soon ing at the cause of such a tumult, he was over, and resulted in nothing. Now he be wondering at this disclosure. In a moment gan to despond, and to speculate in his mind a thousand little things suggested themas to whether Ethel was in any danger or selves as he stood there in his confusion, not. He began to calculate the time that which little things all went to throw a flood might be required to go for help with which of light upon her statement, and prove that to attack the brigands. He wondered what she was another person than that "demon reason Girasole might have to injure Ethel. wife" who had been the cause of all his But whatever hope he had that mercy might woes. Her soft glance, her gentle manner. be shown her was counterbalanced by his her sweet and tender expression-above all own experience of Girasole's cruelty, and his the tone of her voice; all these at once 1 knowledge of his merciless character. opened his eyes. In the course of their conversation she had spoken in a low tone, often in a whisper, so that this fact with regard to the difference of voice had not been perceptible; but her last words were spoken louder, and he observed the difference. Suddenly he was roused by the rifle-shot and the confusion that followed. He saw the party on the mound start to their feet. He heard the shots that succeeded the first He saw shadows darting to and fro. Then the confusion grew worse, and all the sounds of battle arose the cries, the shrieks, and the stern words of command. one. All this filled him with hope. An attack was being made. They might all be saved. He could see that the brigands were being driven back, and that the assailants were pressing on. Then he saw the party moving from the knoll. It was already much lighter. They advanced toward him. He sank down and waited. He had no fear now that this party would complete his burial. He thought they were flying with the prisoners. If so, the assailants would soon be here; he could join them, and lead them on to the rescue of Ethel. He lay low with the lid over him. He heard them close beside him. Then there was the noise of rushing men, and Girasole's voice arose. He heard all that followed. Then Ethel's shriek sounded out, as she sprang toward the grave. In an instant the occupant of the grave, seizing the lid, raised it up, and with a wild yell sprang forth. The effect was tremendous. The brigands thought the dead Antonio had come to life. They did not stop to look, but with a howl of awful terror, and in an anguish of fright, they turned and ran for their lives! Girasole saw him too, with equal horror, if not greater. He saw Hawbury. It was the man whom he had killed stone-dead with his own hand. He was there before himor was it his ghost? For an instant horror paralyzed him; and then, with a yell like a madman's, he leaped back and fled after the others. CHAPTER XXXVI. IN the midst of that wild uproar which had roused Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby there was nothing that startled him so much Now the tumult grew greater, and the reports of the rifles more frequent. The noise was communicated to the house, and in the rooms and the hall below there were tramplings of feet, and hurryings to and fro, and the rattle of arms, and the voices of men, in the midst of which rose the stern command of Girasole. "Forward! Follow me!" Then the distant reports grew nearer and yet nearer, and all the men rushed from the house, and their tramp was heard outside as they hurried away to the scene of conflict. "It's an attack! The brigands are attacked!" cried Mrs. Willoughby. Dacres said nothing. He was collecting his scattered thoughts. "Oh, may Heaven grant that we may be saved! Oh, it is the troops-it must be! Oh, Sir, come, come; help us to escape! My darling sister is here. Save her!" "Your sister?" cried Dacres. "Oh yes; come, save her! My sister-my darling Minnie!" With these words Mrs. Willoughby rushed from the room. "Her sister! her sister!" repeated Dacres "Minnie Fay! Her sister! Good Lord! What a most infernal ass I've been making of myself this last month!" He stood still for a few moments, overwhelmed by this thought, and apparently endeavoring to realize the full extent and enormous size and immense proportions, together with the infinite extent of ear, appertaining to the ass to which he had transformed himself; but finally he shook his head despondingly, as though he gave it up altogether. Then he hurried after Mrs. Willoughby. Mrs. Willoughby rushed into Minnie's room, and clasped her sister in her arms with frantic tears and kisses. "Oh, my precious darling!" she exclaimed. "Oh dear!" said Minnie, “isn't this real ly too bad? I was so tired, you know, and I was just beginning to go to sleep, when those horrid men began firing their guns. I really do think that every body is banded together to tease me. I do wish they'd all go away and let me have a little peace. I am so tired and sleepy!" While Minnie was saying this her sister was embracing her and kissing her and crying over her. "Oh, come, Minnie, come!" she cried; "make haste. We must fly!" "Where to?" said Minnie, wonderingly. "Any whereany where out of this awful place: into the woods." "Why, I don't see the use of going into the woods. It's all wet, you know. Can't we get a carriage?" "Oh no, no; we must not wait. They'll all be back soon and kill us." "Kill us! What for?" cried Minnie. "What do you mean? How silly you are, Kitty darling!" At this moment Dacres entered. The image of the immeasurable ass was still very prominent in his mind, and he had lost all his fever and delirium. One thought only remained (besides that of the ass, of course), and that was-escape. "Are you ready?" he asked, hurriedly. "Oh yes, yes; let us make baste," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I think no one is below," said he; "but I will go first. There is a good place close by. We will run there. If I fall, you must run on and try to get there. It is the bank just opposite. Once there, you are in the woods. Do you understand?" "Oh yes, yes!" cried Mrs. Willoughby. "Haste: Oh, haste!" Dacres turned, and Mrs. Willoughby had just grasped Minnie's hand to follow, when suddenly they heard footsteps below. They stopped, appalled. The robbers had not all gone, then. Some of them must have remain ed on guard. But how many? Dacres listened and the ladies listened, and in their suspense the beating of each heart was audible. The footsteps below could be heard going from room to room, and pausing in each. "There seems to be only one man," said Dacres, in a whisper. "If there is only one, I'll engage to manage him. While I grapple, you run for your lives. Remember the bank." "Oh yes; but oh, Sir, there may be more," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I'll see," said Dacres, softly. He went cautiously to the front window and looked out. By the increased light he could see quite plainly. No men were visible. From afar the noise of the strife came to his ears louder than ever, and he could see the flashes of the rifles. Dacres stole back again from the window and went to the door. He stood and listened. And now the footsteps came across the hall to the foot of the stairs. Dacres could see the figure of a solitary man, but it was dark in the hall, and he could not make him out. He began to think that there was only one enemy to encounter. The man below put his foot on the lowest stair. Then he hesitated. Dacres stood in the shadow of the other door-way, which was nearer to the head of the stairs, and prepared to spring as soon as the stranger should come within reach. But the stranger delayed still. At length he spoke : "Hallo, up there!" The sound of those simple words produced an amazing effect upon the hearers. Dacres sprang down with a cry of joy. "Come, come!" he shouted to the ladies; "friends are here!" And running down the stairs, he reached the bottom and grasped the stranger by both arms. In the dim light he could detect a tall, slim, sinewy form, with long, black, ragged hair and white neck-tie. "You'd best get out of this, and quick, too," said the Reverend Saul Tozer. "They're all off now, but they'll be back here in less than no time. I jest thought I'd look in to see if any of you folks was around." By this time the ladies were both at the bottom of the stairs. "Come!" said Tozer, "hurry up, folks. I'll take one lady and you take t'other." "Do you know the woods ?" "Like a book." "So do I," said Dacres. He grasped Mrs. Willoughby's hand and started. "But Minnie!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "You had better let him take her; it's safer for all of us," said Dacres. Mrs. Willoughby looked back as she was dragged on after Dacres, and saw Tozer following them, holding Minnie's hand. This re-assured her. Dacres dragged her on to the foot of the bank. Here she tried to keep up with him, but it was steep, and she could not. Whereupon Dacres stopped, and, without a word, raised her in his arms as though she were a little child, and ran up the bank. He plunged into the woods. Then he ran on farther. Then he turned and doubled. Mrs. Willoughby begged him to put her down. "No," said he; "they are behind us. You can not go fast enough. I should have to wait and defend you, and then we would both be lost." "But, oh! we are losing Minnie." "No, we are not," cried Dacres; "that man is ten times stronger than I am. He is a perfect elephant in strength. He dashed past me up the hill." "I didn't see him." "Your face was turned the other way. He is ahead of us now somewhere." "Oh, I wish we could catch up to him." At this Dacres rushed on faster. The effort was tremendous. He leaped over fallen timbers, he burst through the underbrush. "Oh, I'm sure you'll kill yourself if you go so fast," said Mrs. Willoughby. "We can't catch up to them." At this Dacres slackened his pace, and went on more carefully. She again begged him to put her down. He again refused. upon this she felt perfectly helpless, and recalled, in a vague way, Minnie's ridiculous question of "How would you like to be run away with by a great, big, horrid man, Kitty darling?" Then she began to think he was insane, and felt very anxious. At last Dacres stopped. He was utterly exhausted. He was panting terribly. It had been a fearful journey. He had run along the bank up to that narrow valley which he had traversed the day before, and when he stopped it was on the top of that precipice where he had formerly rested, and where he had nurtured such dark purposes against Mrs. Willoughby. Mrs. Willoughby looked at him full of pity. He was utterly broken down by this last effort. "Oh dear!" she thought. "Is he sane or insane? What am I to do? It is dreadful to have to go on and humor his queer fancies.” THE DEAD LETTER. A pretty hand that wrote it! How calmly now I view it all, As memory backward ranges- The love that wrote at such a rate At last the fatal message came: 66 My letters-please return them; I wonder if I'm wiser now, And this alone remains! Ah, well! Are food for deep reflection. FRENCH ROYAL CHÂTEAUX. which had been in an earlier age forbidden to buildings liable to attack, and built wholly or in part for defense. LONG ago I bought in London a splendid The engraving which accompanies this photograph of a grand old French châ- sketch shows not only the portions of the teau, with high-pitched roof, and lofty carved river and château given in my cherished chimneys and turrets, and draw-bridge with photograph, but also the full breadth of a river running under it. There was a great both. The original château consisted of the arch under the château, through which flow- large, square, central portion shown in the ed, dark and swift, a stream large enough to picture, flanked by angle turrets and diverbe called a river even in America. The riv-sified by the projecting chapel. This, with er had three channels. One flowed in front the draw-bridge and advanced tower seen to of the château, and was crossed by a drawbridge; another-the main channel-flowed through a vast dark archway under the château; and a third flowed behind it, and was lost in the accessories of my picture. Out of one side of the château, between the draw-bridge and the arch aforesaid, projected a little apse-like Gothic chapel--an integral part of the château, yet the only part which was Gothic. All the rest was French renaissance of the early and most attractive period, abounding in carvings and ornamental devices of a thousand fanciful va-ed for us in this château, which has about it, rieties. What was this château? The print-seller of whom I bought the photograph did not know. No one whom I asked about it knew. I had it framed and hung where many people-many well-educated and traveled and art-loving people-saw and admired it; and some were sure they had seen the original: but where? So it hung there for years, a delightful and beautiful mystery; not less interesting because a mystery perfectly easy of solution if the right man would only come to solve it. the right, was built on the site of an old mill by the wife of Bohier, a follower of Charles VIII, who had returned rich with him from Italy. Diane de Poitiers added the long bridge to the rear, built on piers. and connecting the château with the further bank of the river. Catherine de Medicis added the two-story gallery which now surmounts the bridge, and is shown on the left of the picture. It was, then, a woman who conceived the charming and unique idea which has result the French declare, something fairy-like and almost supernatural. Every thing is in harmony. The Cher is a smiling river, and they say it stops for a minute at Chenonceaux that it may leisurely bathe the feet of the gracious towers and enchanted gardens of this Palace of Armida. What a woman commenced women have finished. Diane de Poitiers and Catherine de Medicis completed the thought of Catherine Briçonnet. This château is unlike all other royal French châteaux: it has no blood upon its stones-no sad histories of treasons, perfi One day he came. A Frenchman in passing through the room glanced up at the pic-dies, conspiracies. These smiling walls reture, and said, “Ah! you have Chenonceaux there!" and passed on. That is, he essayed to pass on, but we arrested him forthwith, and kept him till we had recorded all he knew of the beautiful edifice. The château of Chenonceaux was built in the reign of Francis I. Later it was given by Henry II. to the beautiful Diane de Poitiers, who enlarged it and held there her court; and hither her royal lover used to repair after hunting in the neighboring forest of Loches. Diane could not see too often the reflection of her own beautiful face; so the king gave her the château of Chenonceaux, where, when she looked out of the window, she might see her face reflected in the river which flowed beneath it. A strange but, as it turned out, a charming fancy, to build a château in the middle of a river, on piers; and a happy period at which to build one, when the decay of feudalism left architecture only the picturesque features of feudalism-the draw-bridge, the flanking turrets, the donjon tower-and yet allowed it all the adornments and comforts and light and air and other accessories call only souvenirs of youth, elegance, poetry, and love. Here Diane de Poitiers, Mary Stuart, Gabrielle, and others like them, for two hundred years came to animate this smiling nature, and mirror in the clear river their beautiful faces. And worthy the frame for this picture-fair home for fair ladies! We approached it by a royal avenue of trees, which terminates in a "court of honor" on the river-bank--a handsome terrace flanked by stone balustrades. On one side is the advanced tower, forming a dwelling for the concierge, and which, built on the firm earth, seems a timid sister regarding from afar, and without daring to follow them, her elder sisters, who bathe their feet in the river. Then comes the bridge, with its arches and "draw," and heavy, wedgeshaped piers, ornamented with daintily curved projections, behind which one can retire from the roadway; and after the bridge comes the front of the château, with its two angle towers projecting corbeled out over the water, its semicircular balconies, and its lofty, richly carved dormers; then the chapel, so harmonious a part of the whole, yet |