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Capitola the madcap

by Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth · English · Gutenberg #3792 · 544,314 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Capitola the madcap

Author: Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth


        
Release date: February 1, 2003 [eBook #3792]
                Most recently updated: January 9, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3792

Credits: Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPITOLA THE MADCAP ***




Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.










CAPITOLA THE MADCAP


PART II OF

THE HIDDEN HAND


BY

MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH




CONTENTS

CHAPTER

      I.   The Orphan's Trial
     II.   Old Hurricane Storms
    III.   Cap's Visit to the Hidden House
     IV.   The Hidden Hollow
      V.   The Hidden House
     VI.   The Inmate of the Hidden House
    VII.   Cap's Return
   VIII.   Another Mystery at the Hidden House
     IX.   Cap Frees the Captive
      X.   Cap in Captivity
     XI.   An Unexpected Visitor at Marsh's Cottage
    XII.   Cap "Rests on her Laurels" and "Spoils for a Fight"
   XIII.   Black Donald
    XIV.   Glory
     XV.   Cap Captivates a Craven
    XVI.   Cap's Rage
   XVII.   Capitola Caps the Climax
  XVIII.   Black Donald's Last Attempt
    XIX.   The Awful Peril of Capitola
     XX.   The Next Morning
    XXI.   A Fatal Hatred
   XXII.   The Court-Martial
  XXIII.   The Verdict
   XXIV.   The End of the War
    XXV.   The Fortunate Bath
   XXVI.   The Mysterious Maniac
  XXVII.   The Maniac's Story
 XXVIII.   End of the Lady's Story
   XXIX.   Prospects Brighten
    XXX.   Capitola a Capitalist
   XXXI.   "There shall be light at the eventide."--Holy Bible




CAPITOLA THE MADCAP
    SEQUEL TO
 THE HIDDEN HAND




CHAPTER I.

THE ORPHAN'S TRIAL


    "We met ere yet the world had come
     To wither up the springs of youth,
     Amid the holy joys of home,
     And in the first warm blush of youth.
     We parted as they never part,
     Whose tears are doomed to be forgot;
     Oh, by what agony of heart.
     Forget me not!--forget me not!"

                           --Anonymous.


At nine o'clock the next morning Traverse went to the library to keep
his tryst with Colonel Le Noir.

Seated in the doctor's leathern chair, with his head thrown back, his
nose erect and his white and jeweled hand caressing his mustached chin,
the colonel awaited the young man's communication.

With a slight bow Traverse took a chair and drew it up to the table,
seated himself and, after a little hesitation, commenced, and in a
modest and self-respectful manner announced that he was charged with
the last verbal instructions from the doctor to the executor of his
will.

Colonel Le Noir left off caressing his chin for an instant, and, with a
wave of his dainty hand, silently intimated that the young man should
proceed.

Traverse then began and delivered the dying directions of the late
doctor, to the effect that his daughter Clara Day should not be removed
from the paternal mansion, but that she should be suffered to remain
there, retaining as a matronly companion her old friend Mrs. Marah
Rocke.

"Umm! umm! very ingenious, upon my word!" commented the colonel, still
caressing his chin.

"I have now delivered my whole message, sir, and have only to add that
I hope, for Miss Day's sake, there will be no difficulty thrown in the
way of the execution of her father's last wishes, which are also, sir,
very decidedly her own" said Traverse.

"Umm! doubtless they are--and also yours and your worthy mother's."

"Sir, Miss Day's will in this matter is certainly mine. Apart from the
consideration of her pleasure, my wishes need not be consulted. As soon
as I have seen Miss Day made comfortable I leave for the far West,"
said Traverse, with much dignity.

"Umm! and leave mama here to guard the golden prize until your return,
eh?" sneered the colonel.

"Sir, I do not--wish to understand you," said Traverse with a flushed
brow.

"Possibly not, my excellent young friend," said the colonel,
ironically; then, rising from his chair and elevating his voice, he
cried, "but I, sir, understand you and your mother and your pretty
scheme perfectly! Very ingenious invention, these 'last verbal
instructions.' Very pretty plan to entrap an heiress; but it shall not
avail you, adventurers that you are! This afternoon Sauter, the
confidential attorney of my late brother-in-law, will be here with the
will, which shall be read in the presence of the assembled household.
If these last verbal directions are also to be found duplicated in the
will, very good, they shall be obeyed; if they not, shall be
discredited."

During this speech Traverse stood with kindling eyes and blazing
cheeks, scarcely able to master his indignation; yet, to his credit be
it spoken, he did "rule his own spirit" and replied with dignity and
calmness:

"Colonel Le Noir, my testimony in regard to the last wishes of Doctor
Day can, if necessary, be supported by other evidence--though I do not
believe that any man who did not himself act in habitual disregard of
truth would wantonly question the veracity of another."

"Sir! this to me!" exclaimed Le Noir, growing white with rage and
making a step toward the young man.

"Yes, Colonel Le Noir, that to you! And this in addition; You have
presumed to charge my mother, in connection with myself, with being an
adventuress; with forming dishonorable 'schemes,' and in so charging
her, Colonel Le Noir, you utter a falsehood!"

"Sirrah!" cried Le Noir, striding toward Traverse and raising his hand
over his head, with a fearful oath, "retract your words or--"

Traverse calmly drew himself up, folded his arms and replied coolly:

"I am no brawler, Colonel Le Noir; the pistol and the bowie-knife are
as strange to my hands as abusive epithets and profane language are to
my lips; nevertheless, instead of retracting my words, I repeat and
reiterate them. If you charge my mother with conspiracy you utter a
falsehood. As her son I am in duty bound to say as much."

"Villain!" gasped Le Noir, shaking his fist and choking with rage;
"villain! you shall repent this in every vein of your body!"

Then, seizing his hat, he strode from the room.

"Boaster!" said Traverse to himself, as he also left the library by
another door.

Clara was waiting for him in the little parlor below.

"Well, well, dear Traverse," she said, as he entered. "You have had the
explanation with my guardian, and--he makes no objection to carrying
out the last directions of my father and our own wishes--he is willing
to leave me here?"

"My dear girl, Colonel Le Noir defers all decision until the reading of
the will, which is to take place this afternoon," said Traverse,
unwilling to add to her distress by recounting the disgraceful scene
that had just taken place in the library.

"Oh! these delays! these delays! Heaven give me patience! Yet I do not
know why I should be so uneasy. It is only a form; of course he will
regard my father's wishes."

"I do not see well how he can avoid doing so, especially as Doctor
Williams is another witness to them, and I shall request the doctor's
attendance here this afternoon. Dear Clara, keep up your spirits! A few
hours now and all will be well," said Traverse, as he drew on his
gloves and took his hat to go on his morning round of calls.

An early dinner was ordered, for the purpose of giving ample time in
the afternoon for the reading of the will.

Owing to the kind forbearance of each member of this little family,
their meeting with their guest at the table was not so awkward as it
might have been rendered. Mrs. Rocke had concealed the insults that had
been offered her; Traverse had said nothing of the affronts put upon
him. So that each, having only their own private injuries to resent,
felt free in forbearing. Nothing but this sort of prudence on the part
of individuals rendered their meeting around one board possible.

While they were still at the table the attorney, Mr. Sauter, with
Doctors Williams and Dawson, arrived, and was shown into the library.

And very soon after the dessert was put upon the table the family left
it and, accompanied by Colonel Le Noir, adjourned to the library. After
the usual salutations they arranged themselves along each side of an
extension table, at the head of which the attorney placed himself.

In the midst of a profound silence the will was opened and read. It was
dated three years before.

The bulk of his estate, after the paying a few legacies, was left to
his esteemed brother-in-law, Gabriel Le Noir, in trust for his only
daughter, Clara Day, until the latter should attain the age of
twenty-one, at which period she was to come into possession of the
property. Then followed the distribution of the legacies. Among the
rest the sum of a thousand dollars was left to his young friend
Traverse Rocke, and another thousand to his esteemed neighbor Marah
Rocke. Gabriel Le Noir was appointed sole executor of the will, trustee
of the property and guardian of the heiress.

At the conclusion of the reading Mr. Sauter folded the document and
laid it upon the table.

Colonel Le Noir arose and said:

"The will of the late Doctor Day has been read in your presence. I
presume you all heard it, and that there can be no mistake as to its
purport. All that remains now is to act upon it. I shall claim the
usual privilege of twelve months before administering upon the estate
or paying the legacies. In the mean time, I shall assume the charge of
my ward's person, and convey her to my own residence, known as the
Hidden House. Mrs. Rocke," he said, turning toward the latter, "your
presence and that of your young charge is no longer required here. Be
so good as to prepare Miss Day's traveling trunks, as we set out from
this place to-morrow morning."

Mrs. Rocke started, looked wistfully in the face of the speaker and,
seeing that he was in determined earnest, turned her appealing glances
toward Traverse and Doctor Williams.

As for Clara, her face, previously blanched with grief, was now flushed
with indignation. In her sudden distress and perplexity she knew not at
once what to do--whether to utter a protest or continue silent; whether
to leave the room or remain. Her embarrassment was perceived by
Traverse, who, stooping, whispered to her:

"Be calm, love; all shall be well. Doctor Williams is about to speak."

And at that moment, indeed, Doctor Williams arose and said:

"I have, Colonel Le Noir to endorse a dying message from Doctor Day
entrusted to my young friend here to be delivered to you, to the effect
that it was his last desire and request that his daughter, Miss Clara
Day, should be permitted to reside during the term of her minority in
this her patrimonial home, under the care of her present matronly
friend, Mrs. Marah Rocke, Doctor Rocke and myself are here to bear
testimony to these, the last wishes of the departed, which wishes, I
believe, also express the desires of his heiress."

"Oh, yes, yes!" said Clara, earnestly. "I do very much desire to remain
in my own home, among my old familiar friends. My dear father only
consulted my comfort and happiness when he left these instructions."

"There can be, therefore, no reason why Miss Day should be disturbed in
her present home," said Traverse.

Colonel Le Noir smiled grimly, saying:

"I am sorry, Doctor Williams, to differ with you or to distress Miss
Day. But if, as she says, her lamented father consulted her pleasure in
those last instructions, he certainly consulted nothing else--not the
proprieties of conventionalism, the opinion of the world, nor the
future welfare of his daughter. Therefore, as a man of Doctor Day's
high position and character in his sane moments never could have made
such a singular arrangement, I am forced to the conclusion that he
could not, at the time of giving those instructions, have been in his
right mind. Consequently, I cannot venture to act upon any 'verbal
instructions,' however well attested, but shall be guided in every
respect by the will, executed while yet the testator was in sound body
and mind."

"Doctor Rocke and myself are both physicians competent to certify that,
at the time of leaving these directions, our respected friend was
perfectly sound in mind at least," said Doctor Williams.

"That, sir, I repeat, I contest. And, acting upon the authority of the
will, I shall proceed to take charge of my ward as well as of her
estate. And as I think this house, under all the circumstances, a very
improper place for her to remain, I shall convey her without delay to
my own home. Mrs. Rocke, I believe I requested you to see to the
packing of Miss Day's trunks."

"Oh, heaven! shall this wrong be permitted?" ejaculated Marah.

"Mrs. Rocke, I will not go unless absolutely forced to do so by a
decree of the court. I shall get Doctor Williams to make an appeal for
me to the Orphans' Court," said Clara, by way of encouraging her friend.

"My dear Miss Day, that, I hope, will not be required. Colonel Le Noir
acts under a misapprehension of the circumstances. We must enter into
more explanations with him, In the mean time, my dear young lady, it is
better that you should obey him for the present, at least so far as
retiring from the room," said Doctor Williams.

Clara immediately rose and, requesting Mrs. Rocke to accompany her,
withdrew from the library.

Doctor Williams then said;

"I advised the retirement of the young lady, having a communication to
make the hearing of which in a mixed company might have cost her an
innocent blush. But first I would ask you, Colonel Le Noir, what are
those circumstances to which you allude which render Miss Day's
residence here, in her patrimonial mansion, with her old and faithful
friends, so improper?" inquired Doctor Williams, courteously.

"The growing intimacy, sir, between herself and a very objectionable
party--this young man Rocke!" replied Colonel Le Noir.

"Ah! and is that all?"

"It is enough, sir," said Colonel Le Noir, loftily.

"Then suppose I should inform you, sir, that this young man, Doctor
Rocke, was brought up and educated at Doctor Day's cost and under his
own immediate eye?"

"Then, sir, you would only inform me that an eccentric gentleman of
fortune had done--what eccentric gentlemen of fortune will sometimes
do--educated a pauper."

At this opprobrious epithet Traverse, with a flushed face, started to
his feet.

"Sit down, my boy, sit down; leave me to deal with this man," said
Doctor Williams, forcing Traverse back into his seat. Then, turning to
Colonel Le Noir, he said:

"But suppose, sir, that such was the estimation in which Doctor Day
held the moral and intellectual worth of his young protege that he
actually gave him his daughter?"

"I cannot suppose an impossibility, Doctor Williams," replied Colonel
Le Noir, haughtily.

"Then, sir, I have the pleasure of startling you a little by a prodigy
that you denominate an impossibility! Clara Day and Traverse Rocke were
betrothed with full knowledge and cordial approbation of the young
lady's father."

"Impossible! preposterous! I shall countenance no such ridiculous
absurdity!" said Colonel Le Noir, growing red in the face.

"Miss Day, Doctor Rocke, Mrs. Rocke, and myself are witnesses to that
fact."

"The young lady, and the young man are parties immediately
concerned--they cannot be received as witnesses in their own case; Mrs.
Rocke is too much in their interest for her evidence to be taken; you,
sir, I consider the dupe of these cunning conspirators--mother and
son," replied Colonel Le Noir, firmly.

"Tut!" said Doctor Williams, almost out of patience. "I do not depend
upon the words of Miss Day and her friends, although I hold their
veracity to be above question; I had Doctor Day's dying words to the
same effect. And he mentioned the existing betrothal as the very reason
why Clara should remain here in the care of her future mother-in-law."

"Then, sir, that the doctor should have spoken and acted thus, is only
another and a stronger reason for believing him to have been deranged
in his last moments! You need give yourself no farther trouble! I shall
act upon the authority of this instrument which I hold in my hand,"
replied Colonel Le Noir, haughtily.

"Then, as the depository of the dying man's last wishes and as the next
friend of his injured daughter, I shall make an appeal to the Orphans'
Court," said Doctor Williams, coldly.

"You can do as you please about that; but in the mean time, acting upon
the authority of the will, I shall to-morrow morning set out with my
ward for my own home."

"There may be time to arrest that journey," said Doctor Williams,
arising and taking his hat to go.

In the passage he met Mrs. Rocke.

"Dear Doctor Williams," said Mrs. Rocke, earnestly, "pray come up to
poor Clara's room and speak to her, if you can possibly say anything to
comfort her; she is weeping herself into a fit of illness at the bare
thought of being, so soon after her dreadful bereavement, torn away
from her home and friends."

"Tut! tut! no use in weeping! all will yet be right."

"You have persuaded that man to permit her to remain here, then?" said
Marah, gladly.

"Persuaded him! no, nor even undertaken to do so! I never saw him
before to-day, yet I would venture to say, from what I have now seen of
him, that he never was persuaded by any agent except his own passions
and interests, to any act whatever. No, I have endeavored to show him
that we have law as well as justice on our side, and even now I am
afraid I shall have to take the case before the Orphans' Court before I
can convince him. He purposes removing Clara to-morrow morning. I will
endeavor to see the Judge of the Orphans' Court to-night, take out a
habeas corpus, ordering Le Noir to bring his ward into court, and serve
it on him as he passes through Staunton on his way home."

"But is there no way of preventing him from taking Clara away from the
house to-morrow morning."

"No good way. No, madam, it is best that all things should be done
decently and in order. I advise you, as I shall also advise my young
friends, Traverse and Clara, not to injure their own cause by unwise
impatience or opposition. We should go before the Orphans' Court with
the very best aspect."

"Come, then, and talk to Clara. She has the most painful antipathy to
the man who claims the custody of her person, as well as the most
distressing reluctance to leaving her dear home and friends; and all
this, in addition to her recent heavy affliction, almost overwhelms the
poor child," said Mrs. Rocke, weeping.

"I will go at once and do what I can to soothe her," said Doctor
Williams, following Mrs. Rocke, who led him up to Clara's room.

They found her prostrate upon her bed, crushed with grief.

"Come, come, my dear girl, this is too bad! It is not like the usual
noble fortitude of our Clara," said the old man, kindly taking her hand.

"Oh, Doctor, forgive--forgive me! but my courage must have been very
small, for I fear it is all gone. But then, indeed, everything comes on
me at once. My dear, dear father's death; then the approaching
departure and expected long absence of Traverse! All that was grievous
enough to bear; and now to be torn away from the home of my childhood,
and from the friend that has always been a mother to me, and by a man,
from whom every true, good instinct of my nature teaches me to shrink.
I, who have always had full liberty in the house of my dear father, to
be forced away against my will by this man, as if I were his slave!"
exclaimed Clara, bursting into fresh tears of indignation and grief.

"Clara, my dear, dear girl, this impatience and rebellion is so unlike
your gentle nature that I can scarcely recognize you for the mild and
dignified daughter of my old friend. Clara, if the saints in heaven
could grieve at anything, I should think your dear father would be
grieved to see you thus!" said the old man in gentle rebuke that
immediately took effect upon the meek and conscientious maiden.

"Oh! I feel--I feel that I am doing very wrong, but I cannot help it. I
scarcely know myself in this agony of mingled grief, indignation and
terror--yes, terror--for every instinct of my nature teaches me to
distrust and fear that man, in whom my father must have been greatly
deceived before he could have entrusted him with the guardianship of
his only child."

"I think that quite likely," said the old man; "yet, my dear, even in
respect to your dear father's memory, you must try to bear this trial
patiently."

"Oh, yes, I know I must. Dear father, if you can look down and see me
now, forgive your poor Clara, her anger and her impatience. She will
try to be worthy of the rearing you have given her and to bear even
this great trial with the spirit worthy of your daughter!" said Clara
within her own heart; then, speaking up, she said: "You shall have no
more reason to reprove me, Doctor Williams."

"That is my brave girl! That is my dear Clara Day! And now, when your
guardian directs you to prepare yourself for your journey, obey him--go
with him without making any objection. I purpose to arrest your journey
at Staunton with a habeas corpus that he dare not resist, and which
shall compel him to bring you into the Orphans' Court. There our side
shall be heard, and the decision will rest with the judge."

"And all will be well! Oh, say that, sir! to give me the courage to act
with becoming docility," pleaded Clara.

"I have not a doubt in this world that it will all be right, for,
however Colonel Le Noir may choose to disregard the last wishes of your
father, as attested by myself and young Rocke, I have not the least
idea that the judge will pass them over. On the contrary, I feel
persuaded that he will confirm them by sending you back here to your
beloved home."

"Oh, may heaven grant it!" said Clara. "You do, indeed, give me new
life."

"Yes, yes, be cheerful, my dear; trust in Providence and expect nothing
short of the best! And now I dare not tarry longer with you, for I must
see the Judge at his house this night. Good-by, my dear; keep up a good
heart!" said the old man, cheerfully, pressing her hand and taking his
leave.

Mrs. Rocke accompanied him to the hall door.

"My dear madam, keep up your spirits also for the sake of your young
charge! Make her go to bed early! To-morrow, when she thinks she is
about to be torn from you forever, remind her in her ear that I shall
meet the carriage at Staunton with a power that shall turn the horses'
heads."

And so saying, the worthy old gentleman departed.

As Marah Rocke looked after him, she also saw with alarm that Colonel
Le Noir had mounted his horse and galloped off in the direction of
Staunton, as if impelled by the most urgent haste.

She returned to the bedside of Clara, and left her no more that night.
As the colonel did not return to supper, they, the family party, had
their tea in Clara's room.

Late at night Mrs. Rocke heard Colonel Le Noir come into the house and
enter his chamber.

Poor Clara slept no more that night; anxiety, despite of all her
efforts, kept her wide awake. Yet, though anxious and wakeful, yet by
prayer and endeavor she had brought her mind into a patient and
submissive mood, so that when a servant knocked at her door in the
morning with a message from Colonel Le Noir that she should be ready to
set forth immediately after breakfast, she replied that she should obey
him, and without delay she arose and commenced her toilet.

All the family met for the last time around the board. The party was
constrained. The meal was a gloomy one. On rising from the table
Colonel Le Noir informed his ward that his traveling carriage was
waiting, and that her baggage was already on, and requested her to put
on her bonnet and mantle, and take leave of her servants.

Clara turned to obey--Traverse went to her side and whispered:

"Take courage, dear love. My horse is saddled. I shall ride in
attendance upon the carriage whether that man likes it or not; nor lose
sight of you for one moment until we meet Williams with his habeas
corpus."

"Nor even then, dear Traverse, nor even then! You will attend me to the
court and be ready to take me back to this dear, dear home!" murmured
Clara in reply.

"Yes, yes, dear girl! There, be cheerful," whispered the young man, as
he pressed her hand and released it.

Colonel Le Noir had been a silent but frowning spectator of this little
scene, and now that Clara was leaving the room, attended by Mrs. Rocke,
he called the latter back, saying:

"You will be so kind as to stop here a moment, Mrs. Rocke and you also,
young man."

The mother and son paused to hear what he should have to say.

"I believe it is the custom here in discharging domestics to give a
month's warning, or in lieu of that, to pay a month's wages in advance.
There, woman, is the money. You will oblige me by leaving the house
to-day, together with your son and all your other trumpery, as the
premises are put in charge of an agent, who will be here this
afternoon, clothed with authority to eject all loiterers and intruders."

While the colonel spoke Marah Rocke gazed at him in a panic from which
she seemed unable to rouse herself, until Traverse gravely took her
hand, saying:

"My dear mother, let me conduct you from the presence of this man, who
does not know how to behave himself toward women. Leave me to talk with
him, and do you, dear mother, go to Miss Day, who I know is waiting for
you."

Marah Rocke mechanically complied and allowed Traverse to lead her from
the room.

When he returned he went up to Colonel Le Noir, and, standing before
him and looking him full and sternly in the face, said, as sternly:

"Colonel Le Noir, my mother will remain here and abide the decision of
the Orphans' Court; until that has been pronounced, she does not stir
at your or any man's bidding!"

"Villain, out of my way!" sneered Le Noir, endeavoring to pass him.

Traverse prevented him, saying:

"Sir, in consideration of your age, which should be venerable, your
position which should prove you honorable, and of this sacred house of
mourning in which you stand, I have endeavored to meet all the insults
you have offered me with forbearance. But, sir, I am here to defend my
mother's rights and to protect her from insult! And I tell you plainly
that you have affronted her for the very last time! One more word or
look of insult leveled at Marah Rocke and neither your age, position
nor this sacred roof shall protect you from personal chastisement at
the hands of her son!"

Le Noir, who had listened in angry scorn, with many an ejaculation of
contempt, now at the conclusion which so galled his pride, broke out
furiously, with:

"Sir, you are a bully! If you were a gentleman I would call you out!"

"And I should not come if you did, sir! Dueling is unchristian,
barbarous and abominable in the sight of God and all good men. For the
rest you may call me anything you please; but do not again insult my
mother, for if you do I shall hold it a Christian duty to teach you
better manners," said Traverse, coolly taking his hat and walking from
the room. He mounted his horse and stood ready to attend Clara to
Staunton.

Colonel Le Noir ground his teeth in impotent rage, muttering;

"Take care, young man! I shall live to be revenged upon you yet for
these affronts!" and his dastard heart burned with the fiercer
malignity that he had not dared to meet the eagle eye, or encounter the
strong arm of the upright and stalwart young man. Gnashing his teeth
with ill-suppressed fury, he strode into the hall just as Mrs. Rocke
and Clara, in her traveling dress, descended the stairs.

Clara threw her arms around Mrs. Rocke's neck, and, weeping, said:

"Good-by, dear, best friend--good-by! Heaven grant it may not be for
long! Oh, pray for me, that I may be sent back to you!"

"May the Lord have you in His holy keeping, my child I shall pray until
I hear from you!" said Marah, kissing and releasing her.

Colonel Le Noir then took her by the hand, led her out, and put her
into the carriage.

Just before entering Clara had turned to take a last look at her old
home--all, friends and servants, noticed the sorrowful, anxious, almost
despairing look of her pale face, which seemed to ask:

"Ah, shall I ever, ever return to you, dear old home, and dear,
familiar friends?"

In another instant she had disappeared within the carriage, which
immediately rolled off.

As the carriage was heavily laden, and the road was in a very bad
condition, it was a full hour before they reached the town of Staunton.
As the carriage drew up for a few moments before the door of the
principal hotel, and Colonel Le Noir was in the act of stepping out, a
sheriff's officer, accompanied by Dr. Williams, approached, and served
upon the colonel a writ of habeas corpus, commanding him to bring his
ward, Clara Day, into court.

Colonel Le Noir laughed scornfully, saying:

"And do any of you imagine this will serve your purposes? Ha, ha! The
most that it can do will be to delay my journey for a few hours until
the decision of the judge, which will only serve to confirm my
authority beyond all future possibility of questioning."

"We will see to that," said Doctor Williams.

"Drive to the Court House!" ordered Colonel Le Noir.

And the carriage, attended by Traverse Rocke, Doctor Williams and the
Sheriff's officer, each on horseback, drove thither.

And now, reader, I will not trouble you with a detailed account of this
trial. Clara, clothed in deep mourning, and looking pale and terrified,
was led into the court room on the arm of her guardian. She was
followed closely by her friends, Traverse Rocke and Doctor Williams,
each of whom whispered encouraging words to the orphan.

As the court had no pressing business on its hands, the case was
immediately taken up, the will was read and attested by the attorney
who had drawn it up and the witnesses who had signed it. Then the
evidence of Doctor Williams and Doctor Rocke was taken concerning the
last verbal instruction of the deceased. The case occupied about three
hours, at the end of which the judge gave a decision in favor of
Colonel Le Noir.

This judgment carried consternation to the heart of Clara and of all
her friends.

Clara herself sank fainting in the arms of her old friend, the
venerable Doctor Williams.

Traverse, in bitterness of spirit, approached and bent over her.

Colonel Le Noir spoke to the judge.

"I deeply thank your honor for the prompt hearing and equally prompt
decision of this case, and I will beg your honor to order the Sheriff
and his officers to see your judgment carried into effect, as I foresee
violent opposition, and wish to prevent trouble."

"Certainly. Mr. Sheriff, you will see that Colonel Le Noir is put in
possession of his ward, and protected in that right until he shall have
placed her in security," said the judge.

Clara, on hearing these words, lifted her head from the old man's
bosom, nerved her gentle heart, and in a clear, sweet, steady voice
said:

"It is needless precaution, your honor; my friends are no law-breakers,
and since the court has given me into the custody of my guardian, I do
not dispute its judgment. I yield myself up to Colonel Le Noir."

"You do well, young lady," said the judge.

"I am pleased, Miss Day, to see that you understand and perform your
duty; believe me, I shall do all that I can to make you happy," said
Colonel Le Noir.

Clara replied by a gentle nod, and then, with a slight blush mantling
her pure cheeks she advanced a step and placed herself immediately in
front of the judge, saying:

"But there is a word that I would speak to your honor."

"Say on, young lady," said the judge.

And as she stood there in her deep mourning dress, with her fair hair
unbound and floating softly around her pale, sweet face, every eye in
that court was spellbound by her almost unearthly beauty. Before
proceeding with what she was about to say, she turned upon Traverse a
look that brought him immediately to her side.

"Your honor," she began, in a low, sweet, clear tone, "I owe it to
Doctor Rocke here present, who has been sadly misrepresented to you, to
say (what, under less serious circumstances, my girl's heart would
shrink from avowing so publicly) that I am his betrothed wife--sacredly
betrothed to him by almost the last act of my dear father's life. I
hold this engagement to be so holy that no earthly tribunal can break
or disturb it. And while I bend to your honor's decision, and yield
myself to the custody of my legal guardian for the period of my
minority, I here declare to all who may be interested, that I hold my
hand and heart irrevocably pledged to Doctor Rocke, and that, as his
betrothed wife, I shall consider myself bound to correspond with him
regularly, and to receive him as often as he shall seek my society,
until my majority, when I and all that I possess will become his own.
And these words I force myself to speak, your honor, both in justice to
my dear lost father and his friend, Traverse Rocke, and also to myself,
that hereafter no one may venture to accuse me of clandestine
proceedings, or distort my actions into improprieties, or in any manner
call in question the conduct of my father's daughter." And, with
another gentle bow, Clara retired to the side of her old friend.

"You are likely to have a troublesome charge in your ward," said the
sheriff apart to the colonel, who shrugged his shoulders by way of
reply.

The heart of Traverse was torn by many conflicting passions, emotions
and impulses; there was indignation at the decision of the court; grief
for the loss of Clara, and dread for her future!

One instant he felt a temptation to denounce the guardian as a villain
and to charge the judge with being a corrupt politician, whose
decisions were swayed by party interests!

The next moment he felt an impulse to catch Clara up in his arms, fight
his way through the crowd and carry her off! But all these wild
emotions, passions and impulses he succeeded in controlling.

Too well he knew that to rage, do violence, or commit extravagance as
he might, the law would take its course all the same.

While his heart was torn in this manner, Colonel Le Noir was urging the
departure of his ward. And Clara came to her lover's side and said,
gravely and sweetly:

"The law, you see, has decided against us, dear Traverse! Let us bend
gracefully to a decree that we cannot annul! It cannot, at least, alter
our sacred relations; nor can anything on earth shake our steadfast
faith in each other; let us take comfort in that, and in the thought
that the years will surely roll round at length and bring the time that
shall reunite us."

"Oh, my angel-girl! My angel-girl! Your patient heroism puts me to the
blush, for my heart is crushed in my bosom and my firmness quite gone!"
said Traverse, in a broken voice.

"You will gain firmness, dear Traverse. 'Patient!' I patient! You
should have heard me last night! I was so impatient that Doctor
Williams had to lecture me. But it would be strange if one did not
learn something by suffering. I have been trying all night and day to
school my heart to submission, and I hope I have succeeded, Traverse.
Bless me and bid me good-by."

"The Lord forever bless and keep you, my own dear angel, Clara!" burst
from the lips of Traverse. "The Lord abundantly bless you!"

"And you," said Clara.

"Good-by!--good-by!"

"Good-by!"

And thus they parted.

Clara was hurried away and put into the carriage by her guardian.

Ah, no one but the Lord knew how much it had-cost that poor girl to
maintain her fortitude during that trying scene. She had controlled
herself for the sake of her friends. But now, when she found herself in
the carriage, her long strained nerves gave way--she sank exhausted and
prostrated into the corner of her seat, in the utter collapse of woe!

But leaving the travelers to pursue their journey, we must go back to
Traverse.

Almost broken-hearted, Traverse returned to Willow Heights to convey
the sad tidings of his disappointment to his mother's ear.

Marah Rocke was so overwhelmed with grief at the news that she was for
several hours incapable of action.

The arrival of the house agent was the first event that recalled her to
her senses.

She aroused herself to action, and, assisted by Traverse, set to work
to pack up her own and his wardrobe and other personal effects.

And the next morning Marah Rocke was re-established in her cottage.

And the next week, having equally divided their little capital, the
mother and son parted--Traverse, by her express desire, keeping to his
original plan, set out for the far West.




CHAPTER II.

OLD HURRICANE STORMS.


    "At this sir knight flamed up with ire!
     His great chest heaved! his eyes flashed fire.
     The crimson that suffused his face
     To deepest purple now gave place."


Who can describe the frenzy of Old Hurricane upon discovering the fraud
that had been practised upon him by Black Donald?

It was told him the next morning in his tent, at his breakfast table,
in the presence of his assembled family, by the Rev Mr. Goodwin.

Upon first hearing it, he was incapable of anything but blank staring,
until it seemed as though his eyes must start from their sockets!

Then his passion, "not loud but deep," found utterance only in emphatic
thumps of his walking stick upon the ground!

Then, as the huge emotion worked upward, it broke out in grunts, groans
and inarticulate exclamations!

Finally it burst forth as follows:

"Ugh! ugh! ugh! Fool! dolt! blockhead! Brute that I've been! I wish
somebody would punch my wooden head! I didn't think the demon himself
could have deceived me so! Ugh! Nobody but the demon could have done
it! and he is the demon! The very demon himself! He does not
disguise--he transforms himself! Ugh! ugh! ugh! that I should have been
such a donkey!"

"Sir, compose yourself! We are all liable to suffer deception," said
Mr. Goodwin.

"Sir," broke forth Old Hurricane, in fury, "that wretch has eaten at my
table! Has drunk wine with me!! Has slept in my bed!!! Ugh! ugh!!
ugh!!!"

"Believing him to be what he seemed, sir, you extended to him the
rights of hospitality; you have nothing to blame yourself with!"

"Demmy, sir, I did more than that! I've coddled him up with negusses!
I've pampered him up with possets and put him to sleep in my own bed!
Yes, sir--and more! Look there at Mrs. Condiment, sir! The way in which
she worshiped that villain was a sight to behold!" said Old Hurricane,
jumping up and stamping around the tent in fury.

"Oh, Mr. Goodwin, sir, how could I help it when I thought he was such a
precious saint?" whimpered the old lady.

"Yes, sir! when 'his reverence' would be tired with delivering a
long-winded mid-day discourse, Mrs. Condiment, sir, would take him into
her own tent--make him lie down on her own sacred cot, and set my niece
to bathing his head with cologne and her maid to fanning him, while she
herself prepared an iced sherry cobbler for his reverence! Aren't you
ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Condiment, mum!" said Old Hurricane, suddenly
stopping before the poor old woman, in angry scorn.

"Indeed, I'm sure if I'd known it was Black Donald, I'd no more have
suffered him inside of my tent than I would Satan!"

"Demmy, mum, you had Satan there as well! Who but Satan could have
tempted you all to disregard me, your lawful lord and master, as you
every one of you did for that wretch's sake! Hang it, parson, I wasn't
the master of my own house, nor head of my own family! Precious Father
Gray was! Black Donald was! Oh, you shall hear!" cried Old Hurricane,
in a frenzy.

"Pray, sir, be patient and do not blame the women for being no wiser
than you were yourself," said Mr. Goodwin.

"Tah! tah! tah! One act of folly is a contingency to which any man may
for once in his life be liable; but folly is the women's normal
condition! You shall hear! You shall hear! Hang it, sir, everybody had
to give way to Father Gray! Everything was for Father Gray! Precious
Father Gray! Excellent Father Gray! Saintly Father Gray! It was Father
Gray here and Father Gray there, and Father Gray everywhere and always!
He ate with us all day and slept with us all night! The coolest cot in
the dryest nook of the tent at night--the shadiest seat at the table by
day--were always for his reverence! The nicest tit-bits of the choicest
dishes--the middle slices of the fish, the breast of the young ducks,
and the wings of the chickens, the mealiest potatoes, the juiciest
tomatoes, the tenderest roasting ear, the most delicate custard, and
freshest fruit always for his reverence! I had to put up with the necks
of poultry, and the tails of fishes, watery potatoes, specked apples
and scorched custards--and if I dared to touch anything better before
his precious reverence had eaten and was filled, Mrs. Condiment
there--would look as sour as if she had bitten an unripe lemon--and Cap
would tread on my gouty toe! Mrs. Condiment, mum, I don't know how you
can look me in the face!" said Old Hurricane, savagely. A very
unnecessary reproach, since poor Mrs. Condiment had not ventured to
look any one in the face since the discovery of the fraud of which she,
as well as others, had been an innocent victim.

"Come, come, my dear major, there is no harm done to you or your
family; therefore, take patience!" said Mr. Goodwin.

"Demmy, sir, I beg you pardon, parson, I won't take patience! You don't
know! Hang it, man, at last they got me to give up one-half of my own
blessed bed to his precious reverence--the best half which the fellow
always took right out of the middle, leaving me to sleep on both sides
of him, if I could! Think of it--me, Ira Warfield--sleeping between the
sheets--night after night--with Black Donald! Ugh! ugh! ugh! Oh, for
some lethean draught that I might drink and forget! Sir, I won't be
patient! Patience would be a sin! Mrs. Condiment, mum, I desire that
you will send in your account and supply yourself with a new situation!
You and I cannot agree any longer. You'll be putting me to bed with
Beelzebub next!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, besides himself with
indignation.

Mrs. Condiment sighed and wiped her eyes under her spectacles.

The worthy minister, now seriously alarmed, came to him and said:

"My dear, dear major, do not be unjust--consider. She is an old
faithful domestic, who has been in your service forty years--whom you
could not live without! I say it under advisement--whom you could not
live without!"

"Hang it, sir, nor live with! Think of her helping to free the
prisoners! Actually taking Black Donald--precious Father Gray!--into
their cell and leaving them together to hatch their--beg you
pardon--horrid plots!"

"But, sir, instead of punishing the innocent victim of his deception,
let us be merciful and thank the Lord, that since those men were
delivered from prison, they were freed without bloodshed; for remember
that neither the warden nor any of his men, nor any one else has been
personally injured."

"Hang it, sir, I wish they had cut all our throats to teach us more
discretion!" broke forth Old Hurricane.

"I am afraid that the lesson so taught would have come too late to be
useful!" smiled the pastor.

"Well, it hasn't come too late now! Mrs. Condiment, mum, mind what I
tell you! As soon as we return to Hurricane Hall, send in your accounts
and seek a new home! I am not going to suffer myself to be set at
naught any longer!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, bringing down his cane
with an emphatic thump.

The sorely troubled minister was again about to interfere, when, as the
worm if trodden upon, will turn, Mrs. Condiment herself spoke up,
saying:

"Lor, Major Warfield, sir, there were others deceived besides me, and
as for myself, I never can think of the risk I've run without growing
cold all over!"

"Serves you right, mum, for your officiousness, and obsequiousness and
toadying to--precious Mr. Gray!--serves you doubly right for famishing
me at my own table!"

"Uncle!" said Capitola, "'Honor bright! Fair play is a jewel! If you
and I, who have seen Black Donald before, failed to recognize that
stalwart athlete in a seemingly old and sickly man, how could you
expect Mrs. Condiment to do so, who never saw him but once in her life,
and then was so much frightened that she instantly fainted?"

"Pah! pah! pah! Cap, hush! You, all of you, disgust me, except Black
Donald! I begin to respect him! Confound if I don't take in all the
offers I have made for his apprehension, and at the very next
convention of our party I'll nominate him to represent us in the
National Congress; for, of all the fools that ever I have met in my
life, the people of this county are the greatest! And fools should at
least be represented by one clever man--and Black Donald is the very
fellow! He is decidedly the ablest man in this congressional district."

"Except yourself, dear uncle!" said Capitola.

"Except nobody, Miss Impudence!--least of all me! The experience of the
last week has convinced me that I ought to have a cap and bells awarded
me by public acclamation!" said Old Hurricane, stamping about in fury.

The good minister finding that he could make no sort of impression upon
the irate old man, soon took his leave, telling Mrs. Condiment that if
he could be of any service to her in her trouble she must be sure to
let him know.

At this Capitola and Mrs. Condiment exchanged looks, and the old lady,
thanking him for his kindness, said that if it should become necessary,
she should gratefully avail herself of it.

That day the camp meeting broke up.

Major Warfield struck tents and with his family and baggage returned to
Hurricane Hall.

On their arrival, each member of the party went about his or her own
particular business.

Capitola hurried to her own room to take off her bonnet and shawl.
Pitapat, before attending her young mistress, lingered below to
astonish the housemaids with accounts of "Brack Donel, dress up like an
ole parson, an' 'ceiving everybody, even ole Marse!"

Mrs. Condiment went to her store room to inspect the condition of her
newly put up preserves and pickles, lest any of them should have
"worked" during her absence.

And Old Hurricane, attended by Wool, walked down to his kennels and his
stables to look after the well-being of his favorite hounds and horses.
It was while going through this interesting investigation that Major
Warfield was informed--principally by overhearing the gossip of the
grooms with Wool--of the appearance of a new inmate of the Hidden
House--a young girl, who, according to their description, must have
been the very pearl of beauty.

Old Hurricane pricked up his ears! Anything relating to the "Hidden
House" possessed immense interest for him.

"Who is she, John?" he inquired of the groom.

"Deed I dunno, sir, only they say she's a bootiful young creature, fair
as any lily, and dressed in deep mourning."

"Humph! humph! humph! another victim! Ten thousand chances to one,
another victim! who told you this, John?"

"Why, Marse, you see Tom Griffith, the Rev. Mr. Goodwill's man, he's
very thick long of Davy Hughs, Colonel Le Noir's coachman. And Davy he
told Tom how one day last month his marse ordered the carriage, and
went two or three days' journey up the country beyant Staunton, there
he stayed a week and then came home, fetching along with him in the
carriage this lovely young lady, who was dressed in the deepest
mourning, and wept all the way. They 'spects how she's an orphan, and
has lost all her friends, by the way she takes on."

"Another victim! My life on it--another victim! Poor child! She had
better be dead than in the power of that atrocious villain and
consummate hypocrite!" said Old Hurricane, passing on to the
examination of his favorite horses, one of which, the swiftest in the
stud, he found galled on the shoulders. Whereupon he flew into a
towering passion, abusing his unfortunate groom by every opprobrious
epithet blind fury could suggest, ordering him, as he valued whole
bones, to vacate the stable instantly, and never dare to set foot on
his premises again as he valued his life, an order which the man meekly
accepted and immediately disobeyed, muttered to himself:

"Humph! If we took ole marse at his word, there'd never be man or 'oman
left on the 'state," knowing full well that his tempestuous old master
would probably forget all about it, as soon as he got comfortably
seated at the supper table of Hurricane Hall, toward which the old man
now trotted off.

Not a word did Major Warfield say at supper in regard to the new inmate
of the Hidden House, for he had particular reasons for keeping Cap in
ignorance of a neighbor, lest she should insist upon exchanging visits
and being "sociable."

But it was destined that Capitola should not remain a day in ignorance
of the interesting fact.

That night, when she retired to her chamber, Pitapat lingered behind,
but presently appeared at her young mistress's room door with a large
waiter on her head, laden with meat, pastry, jelly and fruit, which she
brought in and placed upon the work stand.

"Why, what on the face of earth do you mean by bringing all that load
of victuals into my room to-night? Do you think I am an ostrich or a
cormorant, or that I am going to entertain a party of friends?" asked
Capitola, in astonishment, turning from the wash stand, where she stood
bathing her face.

"'Deed I dunno, Miss, whedder you'se an ostrizant or not, but I knows I
don't 'tend for to be 'bused any more 'bout wittels, arter findin' out
how cross empty people can be! Dar dey is! You can eat um or leab um
alone, Miss Caterpillar!" said little Pitapat, firmly.

Capitola laughed, "Patty" she said, "you are worthy to be called my
waiting maid!"

"And Lors knows, Miss Caterpillar, if it was de wittels you was
a-frettin' arter, you ought to a-told me before! Lors knows dere's
wittels enough!"

"Yes, I'm much obliged to you, Patty, but now I am not hungry, and I do
not like the smell of food in my bedroom, so take the waiter out and
set it on the passage table until morning."

Patty obeyed, and came back smiling and saying:

"Miss Caterpillar, has you hern de news?"

"What news, Pat?"

"How us has got a new neighbor--a bootiful young gal--as bootiful as a
picter in a gilt-edged Christmas book--wid a snowy skin, and sky-blue
eyes and glistenin' goldy hair, like the princess you was a readin' me
about, all in deep mournin' and a weepin' and a weepin' all alone down
there in that wicked, lonesome, onlawful ole haunted place, the Hidden
House, along of old Colonel Le Noir and old Dorkey Knight, and the
ghost as draws people's curtains of a night, just for all de worl' like
dat same princess in de ogre's castle!"

"What on earth is all this rigmarole about? Are you dreaming or
romancing?"

"I'm a-telling on you de bressed trufe! Dere's a young lady a-livin' at
de Hidden House!"

"Eh? Is that really true, Patty?"

"True as preaching, miss."

"Then, I am very glad of it! I shall certainly ride over and call on
the stranger," said Capitola, gaily.

"Oh, Miss Cap! Oh, miss, don't you do no sich thing! Ole Marse kill me!
I heerd him t'reaten all de men and maids how if dey telled you
anything 'bout de new neighbor, how he'd skin dem alive!"

"Won't he skin you?" asked Cap.

"No, miss, not 'less you 'form ag'in me, 'case he 'didn't tell me not
to tell you, 'case you see he didn't think how I knowed! But,
leastways, I know from what I heard, ole marse wouldn't have you to
know nothin' about it, no, not for de whole worl'."

"He does not want me to call at the Hidden House! That's it! Now why
doesn't he wish me to call there? I shall have to go in order to find
out, and so I will," thought Cap.




CHAPTER III.

CAP'S VISIT TO THE HIDDEN HOUSE


     And such a night "she" took the road in
     As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
     The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last
     The rattling showers rose on the blast;
     The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed
     Loud, deep and long the thunder bellowed;
     That night a child might understand
     The de'il had business on his hand.

                              --BURNS.


A week passed before Capitola carried her resolution of calling upon
the inmate of the Hidden House into effect. It was in fact a hot, dry,
oppressive season, the last few days of August, when all people, even
the restless Capitola, preferred the coolness and repose of indoors.
But that she should stay at home more than a week was a moral and
physical impossibility. So on Thursday afternoon, when Major Warfield
set out on horseback to visit his mill, Capitola ordered her horse
saddled and brought up that she might take an afternoon's ride.

"Now please, my dear child, don't go far," said Mrs. Condiment, "for
besides that your uncle does not approve of your riding alone, you must
hurry back to avoid the storm."

"Storm, Mrs. Condiment, why bless your dear old heart, there has not
been a storm these four weeks!" said Capitola, almost indignant that
such an absurd objection to a long ride should be raised.

"The more reason, my child, that we should have a very severe one when
it does come, and I think it will be upon us before sunset; so I advise
you to hurry home."

"Why, Mrs. Condiment, there's not a cloud in the sky."

"So much the worse, my dear! The blackest cloud that ever gathered is
not so ominous of mischief as this dull, coppery sky and still
atmosphere! And if forty years' observation of weather signs goes for
anything, I tell you that we are going to have the awfulest storm that
ever gathered in the heavens! Why, look out of that window--the very
birds and beasts know it, and instinctively seek shelter--look at that
flock of crows flying home! See how the dumb beasts come trooping
toward their sheds! Capitola, you had better give up going altogether,
my dear!"

"There! I thought all this talk tended to keeping me within doors, but
I can't stay, Mrs. Condiment! Good Mrs. Condiment, I can't!"

"But, my dear, if you should be caught out in the storm!"

"Why, I don't know but I should like it! What harm could it do? I'm not
soluble in water--rain won't melt me away! I think upon the whole I
rather prefer being caught in the storm," said Cap, perversely.

"Well, well, there is no need of that! You may ride as far as the
river's bank and back again in time to escape, if you choose!" said
Mrs. Condiment, who saw that her troublesome charge was bent upon the
frolic.

And Cap, seeing her horse approach, led by one of the grooms, ran
up-stairs, donned her riding habit, hat and gloves, ran down again,
sprang into her saddle and was off, galloping away toward the river
before Mrs. Condiment could add another word of warning.

She had been gone about an hour, when the sky suddenly darkened, the
wind rose and the thunder rolled in prelude to the storm.

Major Warfield came skurrying home from the mill, grasping his bridle
with one hand and holding his hat on with the other.

Meeting poor old Ezy in the shrubbery, he stormed out upon him with:

"What are you lounging there for, you old idiot! You old sky-gazing
lunatic! Don't you see that we are going to have an awful blow! Begone
with you and see that the cattle are all under shelter! Off, I say,
or," he rode toward Bill Ezy, but the old man, exclaiming:

"Yes, sir--yes, sir! In coorse, sir!" ducked his head and ran off in
good time.

Major Warfield quickened his horse's steps and rode to the house,
dismounted and threw the reins to the stable boy, exclaiming:

"My beast is dripping with perspiration--rub him down well you knave,
or I'll impale you!"

Striding into the hall, he threw down his riding whip, pulled off his
gloves and called:

"Wool! Wool, you scoundrel, close every door and window in the house!
Call all the servants together in the dining-room; we're going to have
one of the worst tempests that ever raised!"

Wool flew to do his bidding.

"Mrs. Condiment, mum," said the old man, striding into the
sitting-room, "Mrs. Condiment, mum, tell Miss Black to come down from
her room until the storm is over; the upper chambers of this old house
are not safe in a tempest. Well, mum, why don't you go, or send
Pitapat?"

"Major Warfield, sir, I'm very sorry, but Miss Black has not come in
yet," said Mrs. Condiment, who for the last half hour had suffered
extreme anxiety upon account of Capitola.

"Not come in yet! Demmy, mum! Do you tell me she has gone out?" cried
Old Hurricane, in a voice of thunder, gathering his brows into a dark
frown, and striking his cane angrily upon the floor.

"Yes, sir, I am sorry to say she rode out about an hour ago and has not
returned," said Mrs. Condiment, summoning all her firmness to meet Old
Hurricane's "roused wrath."

"Ma'am! You venture to stand there before my face and tell me
composedly that you permitted Miss Black to go off alone in the face of
such a storm as this?" roared Old Hurricane.

"Sir, I could not help it!" said the old lady.

"Demmy, mum! You should have helped it! A woman of your age to stand
there and tell me that she could not prevent a young creature like
Capitola from going out alone in the storm!"

"Major Warfield, could you have done it?"

"Me? Demmy, I should think so; but that is not the question! You--"

He was interrupted by a blinding flash of lightning, followed
immediately by an awful peal of thunder and a sudden fall of rain.

Old Hurricane sprang up as though he had been shot off his chair and
trotted up and down the floor exclaiming:

"And she--she out in all this storm! Mrs. Condiment, mum, you deserve
to be ducked! Yes, mum, you do! Wool! Wool! you diabolical villain!"

"Yes, marse, yes, sir, here I is!" exclaimed that officer, in
trepidation, as he appeared in the doorway. "De windows and doors, sir,
is all fastened close and de maids are all in the dining-room as you
ordered, and--"

"Hang the maids and the doors and windows, too! Who the demon cares
about them? How dared you, you knave, permit your young mistress to
ride, unattended, in the face of such a storm, too! Why didn't you go
with her, sir?"

"'Deed, marse--"

"Don't ''deed marse' me you atrocious villain! Saddle a horse quickly,
inquire which road your mistress took and follow and attend her home
safely--after which I intend to break every bone in your skin, sirrah!
So--"

Again he was interrupted by a dazzling flash of lightning, accompanied
by a deafening roll of thunder, and followed by a flood of rain.

Wool stood appalled at the prospect of turning out in such a storm upon
such a fruitless errand.

"Oh, you may stare and roll up your eyes, but I mean it, you varlet! So
be off with you! Go! I don't care if you should be drowned in the rain,
or blown off the horse, or struck by lightning. I hope you may be; you
knave, and I shall be rid of one villain! Off, you varlet, or--" Old
Hurricane lifted a bronze statuette to hurl at Wool's delinquent head,
but that functionary dodged and ran out in time to escape a blow that
might have put a period to his mortal career.

But let no one suppose that honest Wool took the road that night! He
simply ran down-stairs and hid himself comfortably in the lowest
regions of the house, there to tarry until the storms, social and
atmospheric, should be over.

Meanwhile the night deepened, the storm raged without and Old Hurricane
raged within!

The lightning flashed, blaze upon blaze, with blinding glare! The
thunder broke, crash upon crash, with deafening roar! The wind
gathering all its force cannonaded the old walls as though it would
batter down the house! The rain fell in floods! In the midst of all the
Demon's Run, swollen to a torrent, was heard like the voice of a
"roaring lion, seeking whom he might devour!"

Old Hurricane strode up and down the floor, groaning, swearing,
threatening, and at every fresh blast of the storm without, breaking
forth into fury!

Mrs. Condiment sat crouched in a corner, praying fervently every time
the lightning blazed into the room, longing to go and join the men and
maids in the next apartment, yet fearful to stir from her seat lest she
should attract Old Hurricane's attention, and draw down upon herself
the more terrible thunder and lightning of his wrath. But to escape Old
Hurricane's violence was not in the power of mortal man or woman. Soon
her very stillness exasperated him and he broke forth upon her with:

"Mrs. Condiment, mum, I don't know how you can bear to sit there so
quietly and listen to this storm, knowing that the poor child is
exposed to it?"

"Major Warfield, would it do any good for me to jump up and trot up and
down the floor and go on as you do, even supposing I had the strength?"
inquired the meek old lady, thoroughly provoked at his injustice!

"I'd like to see you show a little more feeling! You are a perfect
barbarian! Oh, Cap! my darling, where are you now? Heavens! what a
blast was that! Enough to shake the house about our ears! I wish it
would! blamed if I don't!"

"Oh, Major! Major! don't say such awful things, nor make such awful
wishes!" said the appalled old lady--"you don't know what you might
bring down upon us!"

"No, nor care! If the old house should tumble in, it would bury under
its ruins a precious lot of good-for-nothing people, unfit to live!
Heavens! what a flash of lightning! Oh, Cap, Cap, my darling, where are
you in this storm? Mrs. Condiment, mum! if any harm comes to Capitola
this night, I'll have you indicted for manslaughter!"

"Major Warfield, if it is all on Miss Black's account that you are
raving and raging so, I think it is quite vain of you! for any young
woman caught out in a storm would know enough to get into shelter;
especially would Miss Black, who is a young lady of great courage and
presence of mind, as we know. She has surely gone into some house, to
remain until the storm is over," said Mrs. Condiment, soothingly.

This speech, so well intended, exasperated Old Hurricane more than all
the rest; stopping and striking his cane upon the floor, he roared
forth:

"Hang it, mum! hold your foolish old tongue! You know nothing about it!
Capitola is exposed to more serious dangers than the elements! Perils
of all sorts surround her! She should never, rain or shine, go out
alone! Oh, the little villain! the little wretch! the little demon! if
ever I get her safe in this house again, won't I lock her up and keep
her on bread and water until she learns to behave herself!"

Here again a blinding flash of lightning, a deafening peal of thunder,
a terrific blast of wind and flood of rain suddenly arrested his speech.

"Oh, my Cap! my dear Cap! I needn't threaten you! I shall never have
the chance to be cruel to you again--never! You'll perish in this
terrible storm and then--and then my tough old heart will break! It
will--it will, Cap! But demmy, before it does, I'll break the necks of
every man and woman, in this house, old and young! Hear it, heaven and
earth, for I'll do it!"

All things must have an end. So, as the hours passed on, the storm
having spent all its fury, gradually grumbled itself into silence.

Old Hurricane also raged himself into a state of exhaustion so complete
that when the midnight hour struck he could only drop into a chair and
murmur:

"Twelve o'clock and no news of her yet!"

And then unwillingly he went to bed, attended by Mrs. Condiment and
Pitapat instead of Wool, who was supposed to be out in search of
Capitola, but who was, in fact, fast asleep on the floor of a dry
cellar.

Meanwhile, where did this midnight hour find Capitola?




CHAPTER IV.

THE HIDDEN HOLLOW.


     On every side the aspect was the same,
        All ruined, desolate, forlorn and savage,
     No hand or foot within the precinct came
        To rectify or ravage!
     Here Echo never mocked the human tongue;
        Some weighty crime that Heaven could not pardon.
     A secret curse on that old Building hung
        And its deserted garden!

                             --Hood's Haunted House.


Cap was a bit of a Don Quixote! The stirring incidents of the last few
months had spoiled her; the monotony of the last few weeks had bored
her; and now she had just rode out in quest of adventures.

The Old Hidden House, with its mysterious traditions, its gloomy
surroundings and its haunted reputation, had always possessed a
powerful attraction for one of Cap's adventurous spirit. To seek and
gaze upon the somber house, of which, and of whose inmates, such
terrible stories had been told or hinted, had always been a secret
desire and purpose of Capitola.

And now the presence there of a beautiful girl near her own age was the
one last item that tipped the balance, making the temptation to ride
thither outweigh every other consideration of duty, prudence and
safety. And having once started on the adventure, Cap felt the
attraction drawing her toward the frightful hollow of the Hidden House
growing stronger with every step taken thitherward.

She reached the banks of the "Demon's Run" and took the left-hand road
down the stream until she reached the left point of the Horse-Shoe
Mountain, and then going up around the point, she kept close under the
back of the range until she had got immediately in the rear of the
round bend of the "Horse Shoe," behind Hurricane Hall.

"Well," said Cap, as she drew rein here, and looked up at the lofty
ascent of gray rocks that concealed Hurricane Hall, "to have had to
come such a circuit around the outside of the 'Horse Shoe,' to find
myself just at the back of our old house, and no farther from home than
this! There's as many doubles and twists in these mountains as there
are in a lawyer's discourse! There, Gyp, you needn't turn back again
and pull at the bridle, to tell me that there is a storm coming up and
that you want to go home! I have no more respect for your opinion than
I have for Mrs. Condiment's. Besides, you carry a damsel-errant in
quest of adventures, Gyp, and so you must on, Gyp--you must on!" said
Capitola, forcibly pulling her horse's head around, and then taking a
survey of the downward path.

It was a scene fascinating from its very excess of gloom and terror!

It was a valley so deep and dark as to merit the name of the hollow, or
hole, but for its great extent and its thick growth of forest, through
which spectral-looking rocks gleamed, and moaning waters could be heard
but not seen.

"Now, somewhere in that thick forest, in the bottom of that vale,
stands the house--well called the Hidden House, since not a chimney of
it can be seen even from this commanding height! But I suppose this
path that leads down into the valley may conduct me to the building!
Come along, Gyp! You needn't turn up your head and pull at the bit!
You've got to go! I am bound this night to see the outside of the
Hidden House, and the window of the haunted chamber at the very least!"
said Cap, throwing her eyes up defiantly toward the darkening sky, and
putting whip to her unwilling horse.

As the path wound down into the valley the woods were found deeper,
thicker and darker. It occupied all Cap's faculties to push her way
through the overhanging and interlacing branches of the trees.

"Good gracious," she said, as she used her left arm rather vigorously
to push aside the obstructions to her path, "one would think this were
the enchanted forest containing the castle of the sleeping beauty, and
I was the knight destined to deliver her! I'm sure it wouldn't have
been more difficult."

Still deeper fell the path, thicker grew the forest and darker the way.

"Gyp, I'm under the impression that we shall have to turn back yet!"
said Cap, dolefully stopping in the midst of a thicket so dense that it
completely blockaded her farther progress in the same direction. Just
as she came to this very disagreeable conclusion she spied an opening
on her left, from which a bridle-path struck out. With an exclamation
of joy she immediately turned her horse's head and struck into it. This
path was very rocky, but in some degree clearer than the other, and she
went on quickly, singing to herself, until gradually her voice began to
be lost in the sound of many rushing waters.

"It must be the Devil's Punch Bowl! I am approaching!" she said to
herself, as she went on.

She was right. The roaring of the waters grew deafening and the path
became so rugged with jagged and irregularly piled rocks, that Cap
could scarcely keep her horse upon his feet in climbing over them. And
suddenly, when she least looked for it, the great natural
curiosity--the Devil's Punch Bowl--burst upon her view!

It was an awful abyss, scooped out as it were from the very bowels of
the earth, with its steep sides rent open in dreadful chasms, and far
down in its fearful depths a boiling whirlpool of black waters.

Urging her reluctant steed through a thicket of stunted thorns and over
a chaos of shattered rocks, Capitola approached as near as she safely
could to the brink of this awful pit. So absorbed was she in gazing
upon this terrible phenomenon of natural scenery that she had not
noticed, in the thicket on her right, a low hut that, with its
brown-green moldering colors, fell so naturally in with the hue of the
surrounding scenery as easily to escape observation. She did not even
observe that the sky was entirely overcast, and the thunder was
muttering in the distance. She was aroused from her profound reverie by
a voice near her asking:

"Who are you, that dares to come without a guide to the Devil's Punch
Bowl?"

Capitola looked around and came nearer screaming than she ever had been
in her life, upon seeing the apparition that stood before her. Was it
man, woman, beast or demon? She could not tell! It was a very tall,
spare form, with a black cloth petticoat tied around the waist, a blue
coat buttoned over the breast, and a black felt hat tied down with a
red handkerchief, shading the darkest old face she had ever seen in her
life.

"Who are you, I say, who comes to the Devil's Punch Bowl without leave
or license?" repeated the frightful creature, shifting her cane from
one hand to the other.

"I? I am Capitola Black, from Hurricane Hall; but who, in the name of
all the fates and furies, are you?" inquired Capitola, who, in getting
over the shock, had recovered her courage.

"I am Harriet the Seeress of Hidden Hollow!" replied the apparition, in
a melodramatic manner that would not have discredited the queen of
tragedy herself. "You have heard of me?"

"Yes, but I always heard you called Old Hat, the Witch," said Cap.

"The world is profane--give me your hand!" said the beldame, reaching
out her own to take that of Capitola.

"Stop! Is your hand clean? It looks very black!"

"Cleaner than yours will be when it is stained with blood, young
maiden!"

"Tut! If you insist on telling my fortune, tell me a pleasant one, and
I will pay you double," laughed Capitola.

"The fates are not to be mocked. Your destiny will be that which the
stars decree. To prove to you that I know this, I tell you that you are
not what you have been!"

"You've hit it this time, old lady, for I was a baby once and now I am
a young girl!" said Cap, laughing.

"You will not continue to be that which you are now!" pursued the hag,
still attentively reading the lines of her subject's hand.

"Right again; for if I live long enough I shall be an old woman."

"You bear a name that you will not bear long!"

"I think that quite a safe prophecy, as I haven't the most distant idea
of being an old maid!"

"This little hand of yours--this dainty woman's hand--will be--red with
blood!"

"Now, do you know, I don't doubt that either? I believe it altogether
probable that I shall have to cook my husband's dinner and kill the
chickens for his soup!"

"Girl, beware! You deride the holy stars--and already they are adverse
to you!" said the hag, with a threatening glare.

"Ha, ha, ha! I love the beautiful stars but did not fear them I fear
only Him who made the stars!"

"Poor butterfly, listen and beware! You are destined to imbrue that
little hand in the life current of one who loves you the most of all on
earth! You are destined to rise by the destruction of one who would
shed his heart's best blood for you!" said the beldame, in an awful
voice.

Capitola's eyes flashed! She advanced her horse a step or two nearer
the witch and raised her riding whip, saying:

"I protest! If you were only a man I should lay this ash over your
wicked shoulders until my arms ached! How dare you? Faith, I don't
wonder that in the honest old times such pests as you were cooled in
the ducking pond! Good gracious, that must have made a hissing and
spluttering in the water, though!"

"Blasphemer, pay me and begone!"

"Pay you? I tell you I would if you were only a man; but it would be
sinful to pay a wretched old witch in the only way you deserve to be
paid!" said Cap, flourishing her riding whip before a creature tall
enough and strong enough to have doubled up her slight form together
and hurled it into the abyss.

"Gold! gold!" said the hag curtly, holding out black and talon-like
fingers, which she worked convulsively.

"Gold! gold, indeed! for such a wicked fortune! Not a penny!" said Cap.

"Ho! you're stingy; you do not like to part with the yellow demon that
has bought the souls of all your house!"

"Don't I? You shall see! There! If you want gold, go fish it from the
depth of the whirlpool," said Cap, taking her purse and casting it over
the precipice.

This exasperated the crone to frenzy.

"Away! Begone!" she cried, shaking her long arm at the girl. "Away!
Begone! The fate pursues you! The badge of blood is stamped upon your
palm!"

"Fee--faw--fum" said Cap.

"Scorner! Beware! The curse of the crimson hand is upon you!"

--"'I smell the blood of an Englishman'"--continued Cap.

"Derider of the fates, you are foredoomed to crime!"

--"'Be he alive or be he dead, I'll have his brains to butter my
bread!'" concluded Cap.

"Be silent!" shrieked the beldame.

"I won't!" said Cap. "Because you see, if we are in for the horrible, I
can beat you hollow at that!"

    "'Avaunt! and quit my sight!
     Let the earth hide thee!
     Thy bones are marrowless! Thy blood is cold!
     Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
     Which thou dost glare with?'"

"Begone! You're doomed! doomed! doomed!" shrieked the witch, retreating
into her hut.

Cap laughed and stroked the neck of her horse, saying:

"Gyp, my son, that was old Nick's wife, who was with us just this
instant, and now, indeed, Gyp, if we are to see the Hidden House this
afternoon, we must get on!"

And so saying she followed the path that wound half-way around the
Punch Bowl and then along the side of a little mountain torrent called
the Spout, which, rising in an opposite mountain, leaped from rock to
rock, with many a sinuous turn, as it wound through the thicket that
immediately surrounded the Hidden House until it finally jetted through
a subterranean channel into the Devil's Punch Bowl.

Capitola was now, unconsciously, upon the very spot, where, seventeen
years before, the old nurse had been forcibly stopped and compelled to
attend the unknown lady.

As Capitola pursued the path that wound lower and lower into the dark
valley the gloom of the thicket deepened. Her thoughts ran on all the
horrible traditions connected with the Hidden House and Hollow--the
murder and robbery of the poor peddler--the mysterious assassination of
Eugene Le Noir; the sudden disappearance of his youthful widow; the
strange sights and sounds reported to be heard and seen about the
mansion; the spectral light at the upper gable window; the white form
seen flitting through the chamber; the pale lady that in the dead of
night drew the curtains of a guest that once had slept there; and above
all Capitola thought of the beautiful, strange girl, who was now an
inmate of that sinful and accursed house! And while these thoughts
absorbed her mind, suddenly, in a turning of the path, she came full
upon the gloomy building.




CHAPTER V.

THE HIDDEN HOUSE.


     The very stains and fractures on the wall
     Assuming features solemn and terrific,
     Hinted some tragedy of that old hall
     Locked up in hieroglyphic!
     Prophetic hints that filled the soul with dread;
     But to one gloomy window pointing mostly,
     The while some secret inspiration said,
     That chamber is the ghostly!

                                     --Hood.


The Hidden House was a large, irregular edifice of dark red sandstone
with its walls covered closely with the clinging ivy, that had been
clipped away only from a few of the doors and windows, and its roof
over-shadowed by the top branches of gigantic oaks and elms that
clustered around and nearly concealed the building.

It might have been a long-forsaken house, for any sign of human
habitation that was to be seen about it. All was silent, solitary and
gloomy.

As Capitola drew up her horse to gaze upon its somber walls she
wondered which was the window at which the spectral light and ghostly
face had been seen. She soon believed that she had found it.

At the highest point of the building, immediately under the sharp angle
of the roof, in the gable and nearest to view, was a solitary window.
The ivy that clung tightly to the stone, covering every portion of the
wall at this end, was clipped away from that high placed, dark and
lonely window by which Capitola's eyes were strangely fascinated.

While thus she gazed in wonder, interest and curiosity, though without
the least degree of superstitious dread, a vision flashed upon her
sight that sent the blood from her ruddy cheek to her brave heart, and
shook the foundations of her unbelief!

For while she gazed, suddenly that dark window was illumed by a
strange, unearthly light that streamed forth into the gloomy evening
air, and touched with blue flame the quivering leaves of every tree in
its brilliant line! In the midst of this lighted window appeared a
white female face wild with woe! And then the face suddenly vanished
and the light was swallowed up in darkness!

Capitola remained transfixed!

"Great heavens!" she thought, "can these things really be! Have the
ghostly traditions of this world truth in them at last? When I heard
this story of the haunted window I thought some one had surely imagined
or invented it! Now I have seen for myself; but if I were to tell what
I have seen not one in a hundred would believe me!"

While these startling thoughts disturbed her usual well-balanced mind,
a vivid flash of lightning, accompanied by a tremendous peal of thunder
and a heavy fall of rain, roused her into renewed activity.

"Gyp, my boy, the storm is upon us sure enough! We shall catch it all
around, get well drowned, beaten and buffeted here and well abused when
we get home! Meantime, Gyp, which is the worst, the full fury of the
tempest or the mysterious terrors of the Haunted House!"

Another blinding flash of lightning, a stunning crash of thunder, a
flood of rain and tornado of wind decided her.

"We'll take the Haunted House, Gyp, my friend! That spectral lady of
the lighted window looked rather in sorrow than in anger, and who knows
but the ghosts may be hospitable? So gee up, Dobbin!" said Capitola,
and, urging her horse with one hand and holding on her cap with the
other, she went on against wind and rain until she reached the front of
the old house.

Not a creature was to be seen; every door and window was closely shut.
Dismounting, Capitola led her horse under the shelter of a thickly
leaved oak tree, secured him, and then holding up her saturated skirt
with one hand and holding on her cap with the other, she went up some
moldering stone steps to an old stone portico and, seizing the heavy
iron knocker of a great black oak double door, she knocked loudly
enough to awaken all the mountain echoes.

She waited a few minutes for an answer, but receiving none, she knocked
again, more loudly than before. Still there was no reply. And growing
impatient, she seized the knocker with both hands and exerting all her
strength, made the welkin ring again!

This brought a response. The door was unlocked and angrily jerked open
by a short, squarely formed, beetle-browed, stern-looking woman,
clothed in a black stuff gown and having a stiff muslin cap upon her
head.

"Who are you? What do you want here?" harshly demanded this woman, whom
Capitola instinctively recognized as Dorky Knight, the morose
housekeeper of the Hidden House.

"Who am I? What do I want? Old Nick fly away with you! It's plain
enough to be seen who I am and what I want. I am a young woman caught
out in the storm and I want shelter!" said Cap, indignantly. And her
words were endorsed by a terrific burst of the tempest in lightning,
thunder, wind and rain!

"Come in then and when you ask favors learn to keep a civil tongue in
your head!" said the woman sternly, taking the guest by the hand and
pulling her in and shutting and locking the door.

"Favors! Plague on you for a bearess! I asked no favor! Every
storm-beaten traveler has a right to shelter under the first roof that
offers, and none but a curmudgeon would think of calling it a favor!
And as for keeping a civil tongue in my head, I'll do it when you set
me the example!" said Cap.

"Who are you?" again demanded the woman.

"Oh, I see you are no Arabian in your notions of hospitality! Those
pagans entertain a guest without asking him a single question; and
though he were their bitterest foe, they consider him while he rests
beneath their tent sacred from intrusion."

"That's because they were pagans!" said Dorky. "But as I am a
Christian, I'd thank you to let me know who it is that I have received
under this roof."

"My name," said our heroine, impatiently, "is Capitola Black! I live
with my uncle, Major Warfield, at Hurricane Hall! And now, I should
thank your ladyship to send some one to put away my horse, while you
yourself accommodate me with dry clothes."

While our saucy little heroine spoke the whole aspect of the
dark-browed woman changed.

"Capitola-Capitola," she muttered, gazing earnestly upon the face of
the unwelcome guest.

"Yes, Capitola! That is my name! You never heard anything against it,
did you?"

For all answer the woman seized her hand, and while the lightning
flashed and the thunder rolled, and the wind and rain beat down, she
drew her the whole length of the hall before a back window that
overlooked the neglected garden, and, regardless of the electric fluid
that incessantly blazed upon them, she held her there and scrutinized
her features.

"Well, I like this! Upon my word, I do!" said Cap, composedly.

Without replying, the strange woman seized her right hand, forcibly
opened it, gazed upon the palm and then, flinging it back with a
shudder, exclaimed:

"Capitola, what brought you under this roof? Away! Begone! Mount your
horse and fly while there is yet time!"

"What! expose myself again to the storm? I won't, and that's flat!"
said Cap.

"Girl! girl! there are worse dangers in the world than any to be feared
from thunder, lightning, rain or wind!"

"Very well, then, when I meet them it will be time enough to deal with
them! Meanwhile the stormy night and my soaked clothing are very
palpable evils, and as I see no good end to be gained by my longer
enduring them, I will just beg you to stop soothsaying--(as I have had
enough of that from another old witch)--and be as good as to permit me
to change my clothes!"

"It is madness! You shall not stay here!" cried the woman, in a harsh
voice.

"And I tell you I will! You are not the head of the family, and I do
not intend to be turned out by you!"

While she spoke a servant crossed the hall and the woman, whisking
Capitola around until her back was turned and her face concealed, went
to speak to the newcomer.

"When will your master be here?" Capitola heard her inquire.

"Not to-night; he saw the storm rising and did not wish to expose
himself. He sent me on to say that he would not be here until morning.
I was caught, as you see! I am dripping wet," replied the man.

"Go, change your clothes at once then, Davy,"

"Who is that stranger?" asked the man, pointing to Capitola.

"Some young woman of the neighborhood, who has been caught out in the
tempest. But you had better go and change your clothes than to stand
here gossiping," said the woman, harshly.

"I say," said the man, "the young woman is a God-send to Miss Clara;
nobody has been to see her yet; nobody ever visits this house unless
they are driven to it. I don't wonder the colonel and our young master
pass as much as ten months in the year away from home, spending all the
summer at the watering places, and all the winter in New York or
Washington!"

"Hold your tongue! What right have you to complain? You always attend
them in their travels!"

"True, but you see for this last season they have both been staying
here, old master to watch the heiress, young master to court her, and
as I have no interest in that game, I find the time hangs heavy on my
hands," complained the man.

"It will hang heavier if you take a long fit of illness by standing in
wet clothes," muttered the woman.

"Why, so 'twill, missus! So here goes," assented the man, hurrying
across the hall and passing out through the door opposite that by which
he entered.

Dorcas returned to her guest.

Eying her closely for a while, she at length inquired:

"Capitola, how long have you lived at Hurricane Hall?"

"So long," replied Cap, "that you must have heard of me! I, at least,
have often heard of Mother Dorkey Knight."

"And heard no good of her!"

"Well, no--to be candid with you, I never did," said Cap.

"And much harm of her?" continued the woman, keeping her stern black
eyes fixed upon those of her guest.

"Well, yes--since you ask me, I have heard pretty considerable harm!"
answered Cap, nothing daunted.

"Where did you live before you came to Hurricane Hall?" asked Dorcas.

"Where I learned to fear God, to speak the truth and to shame the
devil!" replied Cap.

--"And to force yourself into people's houses against their will!"

"There you are again! I tell you that when I learn from the head of
this household that I am unwelcome, then I will retreat, and not until
then! And now I demand to be presented to the master."

"To Colonel Le Noir?"

"Yes."

"I cannot curse you with the 'curse of a granted prayer! Colonel Le
Noir is away."

"Why do you talk so strangely?" inquired Capitola.

"It is my whim. Perhaps my head is light."

"I should think it was, excessively so! Well--as the master of the
house is away, be good enough to present me to the mistress?"

"What mistress? There is no mistress here!" replied Dorcas, looking
around in strange trepidation.

"I mean the young lady, Colonel Le Noir's ward. In lieu of any other
lady, she, I suppose, may be considered the mistress of the house!"

"Humph! Well, young girl, as you are fully resolved to stand your
ground. I suppose there is nothing to do but to put up with you!" said
Dorcas.

"And put up my horse," added Cap.

"He shall be taken care of! But mind, you must depart early in the
morning!" said Dorcas, sternly.

"Once more, and for the last, Mother Cerberus, I assure you I do not
acknowledge your authority to dismiss me!" retorted Capitola. "So show
me to the presence of your mistress!"

"Perverse, like all the rest! Follow me!" said the house keeper,
leading the way from the hall toward a back parlor.




CHAPTER VI.

THE INMATE OF THE HIDDEN HOUSE


     There is a light around her brow,
     A holiness in those dark eyes,
     That show, though wandering earthward now,
     Her spirit's home is in the skies.

                               --MOORE.


Pushing open the door, Dorcas Knight exclaimed:

"Here is a young lady, Miss Black, from Hurricane Hall, come to see
you, Miss Day."

And having made this announcement, the woman retired and shut the door
behind her.

And Capitola found herself in a large, dark, gloomy, wainscoted room,
whose tall, narrow windows afforded but little light, and whose immense
fireplace and blackened furniture seemed to belong to a past century.

The only occupant of this somber apartment was a young girl, seated in
pensive thought beside the central table. She was clothed in deep
mourning, which only served to throw into fairer relief the beauty of
her pearly skin, golden hair and violet eyes.

The vision of her mourning robes and melancholy beauty so deeply
impressed Capitola that, almost for the first time in her life, she
hesitated from a feeling of diffidence, and said gently:

"Indeed, I fear that this is an unwarranted intrusion on my part, Miss
Day."

"You are very welcome," replied the sweetest voice Capitola had ever
heard, as the young girl arose and advanced to meet her. "But you have
been exposed to the storm Please come into my room and change your
clothes," continued the young hostess, as she took Cap's hand and led
her into an adjoining room.

The storm was still raging, but these apartments being in the central
portion of the strong old house, were but little exposed to the sight
or sound of its fury.

There was a lamp burning upon the mantelpiece, by the light of which
the young girl furnished her visitor with dry clothing and assisted her
to change, saying as she did so:

"I think we are about the same size, and that my clothes will fit you;
but I will not offer you mourning habiliments--you shall have this
lilac silk."

"I am very sorry to see you in mourning," said Capitola, earnestly.

"It is for my father," replied Clara, very softly.

As they spoke the eyes of the two young girls met. They were both good
physiognomists and intuitive judges, of character. Consequently in the
full meeting of their eyes they read, understood and appreciated each
other.

The pure, grave, and gentle expression of Clara's countenance touched
the heart of Capitola.

The bright, frank, honest face of Cap recommended her to Clara.

The very opposite traits of their equally truthful characters attracted
them to each other.

Clara conducted her guest back into the wainscoted parlor, where a
cheerful fire had been kindled to correct the dampness of the air. And
here they sat down unmindful of the storm that came much subdued
through the thickness of the walls. And, as young creatures, however
tried and sorrowful, will do, they entered into a friendly chat. And
before an hour had passed Capitola thought herself well repaid for her
sufferings from the storm and the rebuff, in having formed the
acquaintance of Clara Day.

She resolved, let Old Hurricane rage as he might, henceforth she would
be a frequent visitor to the Hidden House.

And Clara, for her part, felt that in Capitola she had found a frank,
spirited, faithful neighbor who might become an estimable friend.

While they were thus growing into each other's favor, the door opened
and admitted a gentleman of tall and thin figure and white and
emaciated face, shaded by a luxuriant growth of glossy black hair and
beard. He could not have been more than twenty-six, but, prematurely
broken by vice, he seemed forty years of age. He advanced bowing toward
the young women.

As Capitola's eyes fell upon this newcomer it required all her presence
of mind and powers of self-control to prevent her from staring or
otherwise betraying herself--for in this stranger she recognized the
very man who had stopped her upon her night ride. She did, however,
succeed in banishing from her face every expression of consciousness.
And when Miss Day courteously presented him to her guest, saying
merely, "My cousin, Mr. Craven Le Noir, Miss Black," Capitola arose and
curtsied as composedly as if she had never set eyes upon his face
before.

He on his part evidently remembered her, and sent one stealthy, been
and scrutinizing glance into her face; but, finding that imperturbable,
he bowed with stately politeness and seemed satisfied that she had not
identified him as her assailant.

Craven Le Noir drew his chair to the fire, seated himself and entered
into an easy conversation with Clara and her guest. Whenever he
addressed Clara there was a deference and tenderness in his tone and
glance that seemed very displeasing to the fair girl, who received all
these delicate attentions with coldness and reserve. These things did
not escape the notice of Capitola, who mentally concluded that Craven
Le Noir was a lover of Clara Day, but a most unacceptable lover.

When supper was announced it was evidently hailed by Clara as a great
relief. And after the meal was over she arose and excused herself to
her cousin by saying that her guest, Miss Black, had been exposed to
the storm and was doubtless very much fatigued and that she would show
her to her chamber.

Then, taking a night lamp, she invited Capitola to come and conducted
her to an old-fashioned upper chamber, where a cheerful fire was
burning on the hearth. Here the young girls sat down before the fire
and improved their acquaintance by an hour's conversation. After which
Clara arose, and saying, "I sleep immediately below your room, Miss
Black; if you should want anything rap on the floor and I shall hear
you and get up," she wished her guest a good night's rest and retired
from the room.

Cap was disinclined to sleep; a strange superstitious feeling which she
could neither understand nor throw off had fallen upon her spirits.

She took the night lamp in her hand and got up to examine her chamber.
It was a large, dark, oak-paneled room, with a dark carpet on the floor
and dark-green curtains on the windows and the bedstead. Over the
mantelpiece hung the portrait of a most beautiful black-haired and
black-eyed girl of about fourteen years of age, but upon whose
infantile brow fell the shadow of some fearful woe. There was something
awful in the despair "on that face so young" that bound the gazer in an
irresistible and most painful spell. And Capitola remained standing
before it transfixed, until the striking of the hall clock aroused her
from her enchantment. Wondering who the young creature could have been,
what had been her history and, above all, what had been the nature of
that fearful woe that darkened like a curse her angel brow, Capitola
turned almost sorrowfully away and began to prepare for bed.

She undressed, put on the delicate nightclothes Clara had provided for
her use, said her evening prayers, looked under the bed--a precaution
taken ever since the night upon which she had discovered the
burglars--and, finding all right, she blew out her candle and lay down.
She could not sleep--many persons of nervous or mercurial temperaments
cannot do so the first night in a strange bed. Cap was very mercurial,
and the bed and room in which she lay were very strange; for the first
time since she had had a home to call her own she was unexpectedly
staying all night away from her friends, and without their having any
knowledge of her whereabouts. She was conjecturing, half in fear and
half in fun, how Old Hurricane was taking her escapade and what he
would say to her in the morning. She was wondering to find herself in
such an unforeseen position as that of a night guest in the mysterious
Hidden House--wondering whether this was the guest chamber in which the
ghost appeared to the officer and these were the very curtains that the
pale lady drew at night. While her thoughts were thus running over the
whole range of circumstances around her singular position, sleep
overtook Capitola and speculation was lost in brighter visions.

How long she had slept and dreamed she did not know, when something
gently awakened her. She opened her eyes calmly--to meet a vision that
brave as she was, nearly froze the blood in her warm veins.

Her chamber was illumined with an intense blue flame that lighted up
every portion of the apartment with a radiance bright as day, and in
the midst of this effulgence moved a figure clothed in white--a
beautiful, pale, spectral woman, whose large, motionless black eyes,
deeply set in her death-like face, and whose long unbound black hair,
fallen upon her white raiment, were the only marks of color about her
marble form.

Paralyzed with wonder, Capitola watched this figure as it glided about
the chamber. The apparition approached the dressing-table, seemed to
take something thence, and then gliding toward the bed, to Capitola's
inexpressible horror drew back the curtains and bent down and gazed
upon her! Capitola had no power to scream, to move or to avert her gaze
from those awful eyes that met her own, until at length, as the
spectral head bent lower, she felt the pressure of a pair of icy lips
upon her brow and closed her eyes!

When she opened them again the vision had departed and the room was
dark and quiet.

There was no more sleep for Capitola. She heard the clock strike four,
and was pleased to find that it was so near day. Still the time seemed
very long to her, who lay there wondering, conjecturing and speculating
on the strange adventure of the night.

When the sun arose she left her restless bed, bathed her excited head
and proceeded to dress herself. When she had finished her toilet, with
the exception of putting on her trinkets, she suddenly missed a ring
that she prized more than she did all her possessions put together--it
was a plain gold band, bearing the inscription Capitola-Eugene, and
which she had been enjoined by her old nurse never to part from but
with life. She had, in her days of destitution suffered the extremes of
cold and hunger; had been upon the very brink of death from starvation
or freezing, but without ever dreaming of sacrificing her ring. And now
for the first time it was missing. While she was still looking
anxiously for the lost jewel the door opened and Dorcas Knight entered
the room, bearing on her arm Capitola's riding dress, which had been
well dried and ironed.

"Miss Capitola, here is your habit; you had better put it on at once,
as I have ordered breakfast an hour sooner than usual, so that you may
have an early start."

"Upon my word, you are very anxious to get rid of me, but not more so
than I am to depart," said Capitola, still pursuing her search.

"Your friends, who do not know where you are, must be very uneasy about
you. But what are you looking for?"

"A ring, a plain gold circle, with my name and that of another
inscribed on it, and which I would not lose for the world. I hung it on
a pin in this pin-cushion last night before I went to bed. I would
swear I did, and now it is missing," answered Cap, still pursuing her
search.

"If you lost it in this room it will certainly be found," said Dorcas
Knight putting down the habit and helping in the search.

"I am not so sure of that. There was some one in my room last night."

"Some one in your room!" exclaimed Dorcas in dismay.

"Yes; a dark-haired woman, all dressed in white!"

Dorcas Knight gave two or three angry grunts and then harshly
exclaimed: "Nonsense! woman, indeed! there is no such woman about the
house! There are no females here except Miss Day, myself and you--not
even a waiting-maid or cook."

"Well," said Cap, "if it was not a woman it was a ghost; for I was wide
awake, and I saw it with my own eyes!"

"Fudge! you've heard that foolish story of the haunted room, and you
have dreamed the whole thing!"

"I tell you I didn't! I saw it! Don't I know?"

"I say you dreamed it! There is no such living woman here; and as for a
ghost, that is all folly. And I must beg, Miss Black, that you will not
distress Miss Day by telling her this strange dream of yours. She has
never heard the ridiculous story of the haunted room, and, as she lives
here in solitude, I would not like her to hear of it."

"Oh, I will say nothing to disquiet Miss Day; but it was no dream. It
was real, if there is any reality in this world."

There was no more said. They continued to look for the ring, but in
vain. Dorcas Knight, however, assured her guest that it should be found
and returned, and that breakfast waited. Whereupon Capitola went down
to the parlor, where she found Clara awaiting her presence to give her
a kindly greeting.

"Mr. Le Noir never gets up until very late, and so we do not wait for
him," said Dorcas Knight, as she took her seat at the head of the table
and signed to the young girls to gather around it.

After breakfast Capitola, promising to come again soon, and inviting
Clara to return her visit, took leave of her entertainers and set out
for home.

"Thank heaven! I have got her off in time and safety!" muttered Dorcas
Knight, in triumph.




CHAPTER VII.

CAP'S RETURN.


     Must I give way and room for your rash choler?
     Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
     Go show your slaves how choleric you are!
     And make your bondsmen tremble! I'll not blench!

                                      --SHAKESPEARE.


It happened that about sunrise that morning Wool awoke In the cellar,
and remembered that on the night previous his master had commanded him
to sally forth in the storm end seek his young mistress, and had
forbidden him, on pain of broken bones, to return without bringing her
safe. Therefore, what did the honest soul do but steal out to the
stables, saddle and mount a horse and ride back to the house just as
Mrs. Condiment had come out into the poultry yard to get eggs for
breakfast.

"Missus Compliment, ma'am, I'se been out all night in search of Miss
Caterpillar, without finding of her. Is she come back, ma'am?"

"Lor', no, indeed, Wool! I'm very anxious, and the major is taking on
dreadful! But I hope she is safe in some house. But, poor Wool, you
must have had a dreadful time out all night in the storm looking for
her!"

"Awful! Missus Compliment, ma'am, awful!" said Wool.

"Indeed, I know you had, poor creature, come in and get some warm
breakfast," said the kind old lady.

"I dare'nt, Missus Compliment. Old marse forbid me to show my face to
him until I fotch Miss Caterpillar home safe," said Wool, turning his
horse's head as if to go. In doing so he saw Capitola galloping toward
the house, and with an exclamation of joy pointed her out to the old
lady and rode on to meet her.

"Oh, Miss Caterpillar, I'se so glad I've found you! I'se done been out
looking for you all night long!" exclaimed Wool, as he met her.

Capitola pulled up her horse and surveyed the speaker with a comical
expression, saying:

"Been out all night looking for me! Well, I must say you seem in a fine
state of preservation for a man who has been exposed to the storm all
night. You have not a wet thread on you."

"Lor', miss, it rained till one o'clock, and then the wind riz and
blowed till six and blowed me dry," said Wool, as he sprang off his
horse and helped his young mistress to alight.

Then, instead of taking the beasts to the stable, he tied them to the
tree and hurried into the house and upstairs to his master's room, to
apprise him of the return of the lost sheep, Capitola.

Old Hurricane was lying awake, tossing, groaning and grumbling with
anxiety.

On seeing Wool enter he deliberately raised up and seized a heavy iron
candlestick and held it ready to hurl at the head of that worthy, whom
he thus addressed:

"Ah, you have come, you atrocious villain! You know the conditions. If
you have dared to show your face without bringing your young mistress--"

"Please, marse, I wur out looking for her all night."

"Have you brought her?" thundered Old Hurricane, rising up.

"Please, marse, yes, sir; I done found her and brought her home safe."

"Send her up to me," said Old Hurricane, sinking back with a sigh of
infinite relief.

Wool flew to do his bidding.

In five minutes Capitola entered her uncle's chamber.

Now, Old Hurricane had spent a night of almost intolerable anxiety upon
his favorite's account, bewailing her danger and praying for her safety
but no sooner did he see her enter his chamber safe and sound and
smiling than indignation quite mastered him, and jumping out of his bed
in his nightgown, he made a dash straight at Capitola.

Now, had Capitola run there is little doubt but that, in the blindness
of his fury, he would have caught and beat her then and there. But Cap
saw him coming, drew up her tiny form, folded her arms and looked him
directly in the face.

This stopped him; but, like a mettlesome old horse suddenly pulled up
in full career, he stamped and reared and plunged with fury, and foamed
and spluttered and stuttered before he could get words out.

"What do you mean, you vixen, by standing there and popping your great
eyes out at me? Are you going to bite, you tigress? What do you mean by
facing me at all?" he roared, shaking his fist within an inch of
Capitola's little pug nose.

"I am here because you sent for me, sir," was Cap's unanswerable
rejoinder.

"Here because I sent for you! humph! humph! humph! and come dancing and
smiling into my room as if you had not kept me awake all the live-long
night--yes, driven me within an inch of brain fever! Not that I cared
for you, you limb of Old Nick! not that I cared for you, except to wish
with all my heart and soul that something or other had happened to you,
you vagrant! Where did you spend the night, you lunatic?"

"At the old Hidden House, where I went to make a call on my new
neighbor, Miss Day, and where I was caught in the storm."

"I wish to heaven you had been caught in a man-trap and had all your
limbs broken, you--you--you--Oh!" ejaculated Old Hurricane, turning
short and trotting up and down the room. Presently he stopped before
Capitola and rapping his cane upon the floor, demanded:

"Who did you see at that accursed place, you--you--infatuated maniac?"

"Miss Day, Mr. Le Noir, Mrs. Knight and a man servant, name unknown,"
coolly replied Cap.

"And the head demon, where was he?"

"Uncle, if by the 'head demon' you mean Old Nick, I think it quite
likely, from present appearances, that he passed the night at Hurricane
Hall."

"I mean--Colonel Le Noir!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, as if the name
choked him.

"Oh! I understood that he had that day left home."

"Umph! Oh! Ah! That accounts for it; that accounts for it," muttered
Old Hurricane to himself; then, seeing that Cap was wistfully regarding
his face and attending to his muttered phrases, he broke out upon her
with:

"Get out of this--this--this--" He meant to say "get out of this
house," but a sure instinct warned him that if he should speak thus
Capitola, unlike the other members of his household, would take him at
his word.

"Get out of this room, you vagabond!" he vociferated.

And Cap, with a curtsey and a kiss of her hand, danced away.

Old Hurricane stamped up and down the floor, gesticulating like a
demoniac and vociferating:

"She'll get herself burked, kidnapped, murdered or what not! I'm sure
she will! I know it! I feel it! It's no use to order her not to go; she
will be sure to disobey, and go ten times as often for the very reason
that she was forbidden. What the demon shall I do? Wool! Wool! you
brimstone villain, come here!" he roared, going to the bell-rope and
pulling it until he broke it down.

Wool ran in with his hair bristling, his teeth chattering and his eyes
starting.

"Come here to me, you varlet! Now, listen: You are to keep a sharp
look-out after your young mistress. Whenever she rides abroad you are
to mount a horse and ride after her, and keep your eyes open, for if
you once lose sight of her, you knave, do you know what I shall do to
you, eh?"

"N--no, marse," stammered Wool, pale with apprehension.

"I should cut your eyelids off to improve your vision! Look to it, sir,
for I shall keep my word! And now come and help me to dress," concluded
Old Hurricane.

Wool, with chattering teeth, shaking knees and trembling fingers,
assisted his master in his morning toilet, meditating the while whether
it were not better to avoid impending dangers by running away.

And, in fact, between his master and his mistress, Wool had a hot time
of it. The weather, after the storm had cleared the atmosphere, was
delightful, and Cap rode out that very day. Poor Wool kept his eyeballs
metaphorically "skinned," for fear they should be treated literally
so--held his eyes wide open, lest Old Hurricane should keep his word
and make it impossible for him ever to shut them.

When Cap stole out, mounted her horse and rode away, in five minutes
from the moment of starting she heard a horse's hoofs behind her, and
presently saw Wool gallop to her side.

At first Cap bore this good-humoredly enough, only saying:

"Go home, Wool, I don't want you; I had much rather ride alone."

To which the groom replied:

"It is old marse's orders, miss, as I should wait on you."

Capitola's spirit rebelled against this; and, suddenly turning upon her
attendant, she indignantly exclaimed:

"Wool, I don't want you, sir; I insist upon being left alone, and I
order you to go home, sir!"

Upon this Wool burst into tears and roared.

Much surprised, Capitola inquired of him what the matter was.

For some time Wool could only reply by sobbing, but when he was able to
articulate he blubbered forth:

"It's nuf to make anybody go put his head under a meat-ax, so it is!"

"What is the matter, Wool?" again inquired Capitola.

"How'd you like to have your eyelids cut off?" howled Wool, indignantly.

"What?" inquired Capitola.

"Yes; I axes how'd you like to have your eyelids cut off? Case that's
what ole marse t'reatens to do long o' me, if I don't follow arter you
and keep you in sight. And now you forbids of me to do it,
and--and--and I'll go and put my neck right underneaf a meat-ax!"

Now, Capitola was really kind-hearted, and, well knowing the despotic
temper of her guardian, she pitied Wool, and after a little hesitation
she said:

"Wool, so your old master says if you don't keep your eyes on me he'll
cut your eyelids off?"

"Ye--ye--yes, miss," sobbed Wool.

"Did he say if you didn't listen to me he'd cut your ears off?"

"N--n--no, miss."

"Did he swear if you didn't talk to me he'd cut out your tongue out?"

"N--n--no, miss."

"Well, now, stop howling and listen to me! Since, at the peril of your
eyelids, you are obliged to keep me in sight, I give you leave to ride
just within view of me, but no nearer, and you are never to let me see
or hear you, if you can help it for I like to be alone."

"I'll do anything in this world for peace, Miss Caterpillar," said poor
Wool.

And upon this basis the affair was finally settled. And no doubt
Capitola owed much of her personal safety to the fact that Wool kept
his eyes open.

While these scenes were going on at Hurricane Hall, momentous events
were taking place elsewhere, which require another chapter for their
development.




CHAPTER VIII.

ANOTHER MYSTERY AT THE HIDDEN HOUSE.


    "Hark! what a shriek was that of fear intense,
     Of horror and amazement!
     What fearful struggle to the door and thence
     With mazy doubles to the grated casement!"


An hour after the departure of Capitola, Colonel Le Noir returned to
the Hidden House and learned from his man David that upon the preceding
evening a young girl of whose name he was ignorant had sought shelter
from the storm and passed the night at the mansion.

Now, Colonel Le Noir was extremely jealous of receiving strangers under
his roof, never, during his short stay at the Hidden House, going out
into company, lest he should be obliged in return to entertain
visitors. And when he learned that a strange girl had spent the night
beneath his roof, he frowningly directed that Dorcas should be sent to
him.

When his morose manager made her appearance he harshly demanded the
name of the young woman she had dared to receive beneath his roof.

Now, whether there is any truth in the theory of magnetism or not, it
is certain that Dorcas Knight--stern, harsh, resolute woman that she
was toward all others--became as submissive as a child in the presence
of Colonel Le Noir.

At his command she gave him all the information he required, not even
withholding the fact of Capitola's strange story of having seen the
apparition of the pale-faced lady in her chamber, together with the
subsequent discovery of the loss of her ring.

Colonel Le Noir sternly reprimanded his domestic manager for her
neglect of his orders and dismissed her from his presence.

The remainder of the day was passed by him in moody thought. That
evening he summoned his son to a private conference in the parlor--an
event that happily delivered poor Clara Day from their presence at her
fireside.

That night Clara, dreading lest at the end of their interview they
might return to her society, retired early to her chamber where she sat
reading until a late hour, when she went to bed and found transient
forgetfulness of trouble in sleep.

She did not know how long she had slept when she was suddenly and
terribly awakened by a woman's shriek sounding from the room
immediately overhead, in which, upon the night previous, Capitola had
slept.

Starting up in bed, Clara listened.

The shriek was repeated--prolonged and piercing--and was accompanied by
a muffled sound of struggling that shook the ceiling overhead.

Instinctively springing from her bed, Clara threw on her dressing-gown
and flew to the door; but just as she turned the latch to open it she
heard a bolt slipped on the outside and found herself a prisoner in her
own chamber.

Appalled, she stood and listened.

Presently there came a sound of footsteps on the stairs and a heavy
muffled noise as of some dead weight being dragged down the staircase
and along the passage. Then she heard the hall door cautiously opened
and shut. And, finally, she distinguished the sound of wheels rolling
away from the house.

Unable longer to restrain herself, she rapped and beat upon her own
door, crying aloud for deliverance.

Presently the bolt was withdrawn, the door jerked open and Dorcas
Knight, with a face of horror, stood before her.

"What is the matter! Who was that screaming? In the name of mercy, what
has happened?" cried Clara, shrinking in abhorrence from the ghastly
woman.

"Hush! it is nothing! There were two tomcats screaming and fighting in
the attic, and they fought all the way downstairs, rolling over and
over each other. I've just turned them out," faltered the woman,
shivering as with an ague fit.

"What--what was that--that went away in the carriage?" asked Clara
shuddering.

"The colonel, gone to meet the early stage at Tip-Top, to take him to
Washington. He would have taken leave of you last night, but when he
came to your parlor you had left it."

"But--but--there is blood upon your hand, Dorcas Knight!" cried Clara,
shaking with horror.

"I--I know; the cats scratched me as I put them out," stammered the
stern woman, trembling almost as much as Clara herself.

These answers failed to satisfy the young girl, who shrank in terror
and loathing from that woman's presence, and sought the privacy of her
own chamber, murmuring:

"What has happened? What has been done? Oh, heaven! oh, heaven! have
mercy on us! some dreadful deed has been done in this house to-night!"

There was no more sleep for Clara. She heard the clock strike every
hour from one to six in the morning, when she arose and dressed herself
and went from her room, expecting to see upon the floor and walls and
upon the faces of the household signs of some dreadful tragedy enacted
upon the previous night.

But all things were as usual--the same dark, gloomy and neglected
magnificence about the rooms and passages, the same reserved, sullen
and silent aspect about the persons.

Dorcas Knight presided as usual at the head of the breakfast table, and
Craven Le Noir at the foot. Clara sat in her accustomed seat at the
side, midway between them.

Clara shuddered in taking her cup of coffee from the hand of Dorcas,
and declined the wing of fowl that Craven Le Noir would have put upon
her plate.

Not a word was said upon the subject of the mystery of the preceding
night until Craven Le Noir, without venturing to meet the eyes of the
young girl, said:

"You look very pale, Clara."

"Miss Day was frightened by the cats last night," said Dorcas.

Clara answered never a word. The ridiculous story essayed to be palmed
off upon her credulity in explanation of the night's mystery had not
gained an instant's belief.

She knew that the cry that had startled her from sleep had burst in
strong agony from human lips!

That the helpless weight she had heard dragged down the stairs and
along the whole length of the passage was some dead or insensible human
form!

That the blood she had seen upon the hand of Dorcas Knight was--oh,
heaven! her mind shrank back appalled with horror at the thought which
she dare not entertain! She could only shudder, pray and trust in God.




CHAPTER IX.

CAP FREES THE CAPTIVE.


     Hold, daughter! I do spy a kind of hope,
     Which craves as desperate an execution
     As that is desperate, which we would prevent
     And if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy!
     Hold, then! go home, be merry, give consent
     To marry Paris! Wednesday is to-morrow!

                                 --Shakespeare.


As the autumn weather was now very pleasant, Capitola continued her
rides, and, without standing on ceremony, repeated her visit to the
Hidden House. She was, as usual, followed by Wool, who kept at a
respectful distance, and who during his mistress' visit, remained
outside in attendance upon the horses.

Capitola luckily was in no danger of encountering Colonel Le Noir, who,
since the night of the mysterious tragedy, had not returned home, but
had gone to and settled in his winter quarters in Washington city.

But she again met Craven Le Noir, who, contrary to his usual custom of
accompanying his father upon his annual migrations to the metropolis,
had, upon this occasion, remained home in close attendance upon his
cousin, the wealthy orphan.

Capitola found Clara the same sweet, gentle and patient girl, with this
difference only, that her youthful brow was now overshadowed by a heavy
trouble which could not wholly be explained by her state of orphanage
or her sorrow for the dead--it was too full of anxiety, gloom and
terror to have reference to the past alone.

Capitola saw all this and, trusting in her own powers, would have
sought the confidence of the poor girl, with the view of soothing her
sorrows and helping her out of her difficulties; but Miss Day, candid
upon all other topics, was strangely reserved upon this subject, and
Capitola, with all her eccentricity, was too delicate to seek to
intrude upon the young mourner's sanctuary of grief.

But a crisis was fast approaching which rendered further concealment
difficult and dangerous, and which threw Clara for protection upon the
courage, presence of mind and address of Capitola.

Since Clara Day had parted with her betrothed and had taken up her
residence beneath her guardian's roof, she had regularly written both
to Traverse at St. Louis and to his mother at Staunton. But she had
received no reply from either mother or son. And months had passed,
filling the mind of Clara with anxiety upon their account.

She did not for one moment doubt their constancy. Alas! it required but
little perspicacity on her part to perceive that the letters on either
side must have been intercepted by the Le Noirs--father and son.

Her greatest anxiety was lest Mrs. Rocke and Traverse, failing to hear
from her, should imagine that she had forgotten them. She longed to
assure them that she had not; but how should she do this? It was
perfectly useless to write and send the letter to the post-office by
any servant at the Hidden House, for such a letter was sure to find its
way--not into the mail bags, but into the pocket of Colonel Le Noir.

Finally, Clara resolved to entrust honest Cap with so much of her story
as would engage her interest and co-operation, and then confide to her
care a letter to be placed in the post-office. Clara had scarcely come
to this resolution ere, as we said, an imminent crisis obliged her to
seek the further aid of Capitola.

Craven Le Noir had never abated his unacceptable attentions to the
orphan heiress. Day by day, on the contrary, to Clara's unspeakable
distress, these attentions grew more pointed and alarming.

At first she had received them coldly and repulsed them gently; but as
they grew more ardent and devoted she became colder and more reserved,
until at length, by maintaining a freezing hauteur at variance with her
usually sweet temper, she sought to repel the declaration that was ever
ready to fall from his lips.

But, notwithstanding her evident abhorrence of his suit, Craven Le Noir
persisted in his purpose.

And so one morning he entered the parlor and, finding Clara alone, he
closed the door, seated himself beside her, took her hand and made a
formal declaration of love and proposal of marriage, urging his suit
with all the eloquence of which he was master.

Now, Clara Day, a Christian maiden, a recently bereaved orphan and an
affianced bride, had too profound a regard for her duties toward God,
her father's will and her betrothed husband's rights to treat this
attempted invasion of her faith in any other than the most deliberate,
serious and dignified manner.

"I am very sorry, Mr. Le Noir, that it has at length come to this. I
thought I had conducted myself in such a manner as totally to
discourage any such purpose as this which you have just honored me by
disclosing. Now, however, that the subject may be set at rest forever,
I feel bound to announce to you that my hand is already plighted," said
Clara, gravely.

"But, my fairest and dearest love, your little hand cannot be plighted
without the consent of your guardian, who would never countenance the
impudent pretensions which I understand to be made by the low-born
young man to whom I presume you allude. That engagement was a very
foolish affair, my dear girl, and only to be palliated on the ground of
your extreme childishness at the time of its being made. You must
forget the whole matter, my sweetest love, and prepare yourself to
listen to a suit more worthy of your social position," said Craven Le
Noir, attempting to steal his arm around her waist.

Clara coldly repelled him, saying:

"I am at a loss to understand, Mr. Le Noir, what act of levity on my
part has given you the assurance to offer me this affront!"

"Do you call it an affront, fair cousin, that I lay my hand and heart
and fortune at your feet?"

"I have called your act, sir, by its gentlest name. Under the
circumstances I might well have called it an outrage!"

"And what may be those circumstances that convert an act
of--adoration--into an outrage, my sweet cousin?"

"Sir, you know them well. I have not concealed from you or my guardian
that I am the affianced bride of Doctor Rocke, nor that our troth was
plighted with the full consent of my dear father," said Clara, gravely.

"Tut, tut, tut, my charming cousin, that was mere child's play--a
school-girl's romantic whim. Do not dream that your guardian will ever
permit you to throw yourself away upon that low-bred fellow."

"Mr. Le Noir, if you permit yourself to address me in this manner, I
shall feel compelled to retire. I cannot remain here to have my honored
father's will and memory, and the rights of my betrothed, insulted in
my person!" said Clara, rising to leave the room.

"No--stay! forgive me, Clara! pardon me, gentlest girl, if, in my great
love for you, I grow impatient of any other claim upon your heart,
especially from such an unworthy quarter. Clara, you are a mere child,
full of generous but romantic sentiments and dangerous impulses. You
require extra vigilance and firm exercise of authority on the part of
your guardian to save you from certain self-destruction. And some day,
sweet girl, you will thank us for preserving you from the horrors of
such a mesalliance," said Craven Le Noir, gently detaining her.

"I tell you, Mr. Le Noir, that your manner of speaking of my betrothal
is equally insulting to myself, Doctor Rocke and my dear father, who
never would have plighted our hands had he considered our prospective
marriage a mesalliance."

"Nor do I suppose he ever did plight your hands--while in his right
senses!"

"Oh, sir, this has been discussed before. I beg of you to let the
subject drop forever, remembering that I hold myself sacredly betrothed
to Traverse Rocke, and ready when, at my legal majority, he shall claim
me--to redeem my plighted faith by becoming his wife."

"Clara, this is madness! It must not be endured, nor shall not! I have
hitherto sought to win your hand by showing you the great extent of my
love; but be careful how you scorn that love or continue to taunt me
with the mention of an unworthy rival. For, though I use gentle means,
should I find them fail of their purpose, I shall know how to avail
myself of harsher ones."

Clara disdained reply, except by permitting her clear eye to pass over
him from head to foot with an expression of consuming scorn that
scathed him to the quick.

"I tell you to be careful, Clara Day! I come to you armed with the
authority of your legal guardian, my father, Colonel Le Noir, who will
forestall your foolish purpose of throwing yourself and your fortune
away upon a beggar, even though to do so he strain his authority and
coerce you into taking a more suitable companion," said Craven Le Noir,
rising impatiently and pacing the floor. But no sooner had he spoken
these words than he saw how greatly he had injured his cause and
repented them. Going to Clara and intercepting her as she was about to
leave the room, he gently took her hand and, dropping his eyes to the
floor with a look of humility and penitence, he said:

"Clara, my sweet cousin, I know not how sufficiently to express my
sorrow at having been hurried into harshness toward you--toward you
whom I love more than my own soul, and whom it is the fondest wish of
my heart to call wife. I can only excuse myself for this or any future
extravagance of manner by my excessive love for you and the jealousy
that maddens my brain at the bare mention of my rival. That is it,
sweet girl. Can you forgive one whom love and jealousy have hurried
into frenzy?"

"Mr. Le Noir, the Bible enjoins me to forgive injuries. I shall
endeavor, when I can, to forgive you, though for the present my heart
is still burning under the sense of wrongs done toward myself and those
whom I love and esteem, and the only way in which you can make me
forget what has just passed will be--never to repeat the offence." And
with these words Clara bent her head and passed from the room.

Could she have seen the malignant scowl and gesture with which Craven
Le Noir followed her departure, she would scarcely have trusted his
expressions of penitence.

Lifting his arm above his head he fiercely shook his fist after her and
exclaimed:

"Go on, insolent girl, and imagine that you have humbled me; but the
tune shall be changed by this day month, for before that time whatever
power the law gives the husband over his wife and her property shall be
mine over you and your possessions. Then we will see who shall be
insolent; then we shall see whose proud blue eye shall day after day
dare to look up and rebuke me. Oh: to get you in my power, my girl! Not
that I love you, moon-faced creature, but I want your possessions,
which is quite as strong an incentive."

Then he fell into thought. He had an ugly way of scowling and biting
his nails when deeply brooding over any subject, and now he walked
slowly up and down the floor with his head upon his breast, his brows
drawn over his nose and his four fingers between his teeth, gnawing
away like a wild beast, while he muttered:

"She is not like the other one; she has more sense and strength; she
will give us more trouble. We must continue to try fair means a little
longer. It will be difficult, for I am not accustomed to control my
passions, even for a purpose--yet, penitence and love are the only
cards to be played to this insolent girl for the present.
Afterwards!--" Here his soliloquy muttered itself into silence, his
head sank deeper upon his breast, his brows gathered lower over his
nose and he walked and gnawed his nails like a hungry wolf.

The immediate result of this cogitation was that he went into the
library and wrote off a letter to his father, telling him all that had
transpired between himself and Clara, and asking his further counsel.

He dispatched this letter and waited an answer.

During the week that ensued before he could hope to hear from Colonel
Le Noir, he treated Clara with marked deference and respect.

And Clara, on her part, did not tax his forbearance by appearing in his
presence oftener than she could possibly avoid.

At the end of the week the expected letter came. It was short and to
the purpose. It ran thus:

                                           Washington, Dec. 14, 18--

     MY DEAR CRAVEN--You are losing time. Do not hope to win the girl
     by the means you propose. She is too acute to be deceived, and
     too firm to be persuaded. We must not hesitate to use the only
     possible means by which we can coerce her into compliance. I shall
     follow this letter by the first stage-coach, and before the
     beginning of the next month Clara Day shall be your wife.

                                            Your Affectionate Father,

                                            GABRIEL LE NOIR,

                                            C. LE NOIR, ESQ., Hidden House.


When Craven Le Noir read this letter his thin, white face and deep-set
eyes lighted up with triumph. But Craven Le Noir huzzaed before he was
out of the woods. He had not calculated upon Capitola.

The next day Colonel Le Noir came to the Hidden House. He arrived late
in the afternoon.

After refreshing himself with a bath, a change of clothing and a light
luncheon, he went to the library, where he passed the remainder of the
evening in a confidential conference with his son. Their supper was
ordered to be served up to them there; and for that evening Clara had
the comfort of taking her tea alone.

The result of this conference was that the next morning, after
breakfast, Colonel Le Noir sent for Miss Day to come to him in the
library.

When Clara, nerving her gentle heart to resist a sinful tyranny,
entered the library, Colonel Le Noir arose and courteously handed her
to a chair, and then, seating himself beside her, said:

"My dear Clara, the responsibilities of a guardian are always very
onerous, and his duties not always very agreeable, especially when his
ward is the sole heiress of a large property and the object of pursuit
by fortune hunters and maneuverers, male and female. When such is the
case, the duties and responsibilities of the guardian are augmented a
hundredfold."

"Sir, this cannot be so in my case, since you are perfectly aware that
my destiny is, humanly speaking, already decided," replied Clara, with
gentle firmness.

"As--how, I pray you, my fair ward?"

"You cannot possibly be at a loss to understand, sir. You have been
already advised that I am betrothed to Doctor Rocke, who will claim me
as his wife upon the day that I shall complete my twenty-first year."

"Miss Clara Day! no more of that, I beseech you! It is folly,
perversity, frenzy! But, thanks to the wisdom of legislators, the law
very properly invests the guardian with great latitude of discretionary
power of the person and property of his ward--to be used, of course,
for that ward's best interest. And thus, my dear Clara, it is my duty,
while holding this power over you, to exercise it for preventing the
possibility of your ever--either now or at any future time, throwing
yourself away upon a mere adventurer. To do this, I must provide you
with a suitable husband. My son, Mr. Craven Le Noir, has long loved and
wooed her. He is a young man of good reputation and fair prospects. I
entirely approve his suit, and as your guardian I command you to
receive him for your destined husband."

"Colonel Le Noir, this is no time 'for bated breath and whispered
humbleness.' I am but a simple girl of seventeen, but I understand your
purpose and that of your son just as well as though I were an old man
of the world. You are the fortune hunters and maneuverers! It is the
fortune of the wealthy heiress and friendless orphan that you are in
pursuit of! But that fortune, like my hand and heart, is already
promised to one I love; and, to speak very plainly to you, I would die
ere I would disappoint him or wed your son," said Clara, with
invincible firmness.

"Die, girl! There are worse things than death in the world!" said
Colonel Le Noir, with a threatening glare.

"I know it! and one of the worst things in the world would be a union
with a man I could neither esteem nor even endure!" exclaimed Clara.

Colonel Le Noir saw that there was no use in further disguise. Throwing
off, then, the last restraints of good breeding, he said:

"And there are still more terrible evils for a woman than to be the
wife of one she 'can neither esteem nor endure!'"

Clara shook her head in proud scorn.

"There are evils to escape which such a woman would go down upon her
bended knees to be made the wife of such a man."

Clara's gentle eyes flashed with indignation.

"Infamous!" she cried. "You slander all womanhood in my person!"

"The evils to which I allude are--comprised in--a life of dishonor!"
hissed Le Noir through his set teeth.

"This to my father's daughter!" exclaimed Clara, growing white as death
at the insult.  "Aye, my girl! It is time we understood each other. You
are in my power, and I intend to coerce you to my will!"

These words, accompanied as they were by a look that left no doubt upon
her mind that he would carry out his purpose to any extremity, so
appalled the maiden's soul that she stood like one suddenly struck with
catalepsy.

The unscrupulous wretch then approached her and said:

"I am now going to the county seat to take out a marriage license for
you and my son. I shall have the carriage at the door by six o'clock
this evening, when I desire that you shall be ready to accompany us to
church, where a clerical friend will be in attendance to perform the
marriage ceremony. Clara Day, if you would save your honor, look to
this!"

All this time Clara had neither moved nor spoken nor breathed. She had
stood cold, white and still as if turned to stone.

"Let no vain hope of escape delude your mind. The doors will be kept
locked; the servants are all warned not to suffer you to leave the
house. Look to it, Clara, for the rising of another sun shall see my
purpose accomplished!"

And with these words the atrocious wretch left the room. His departure
took off the dreadful spell that had paralyzed Clara's life; her blood
began to circulate again; breath came to her lungs and speech to her
lips.

"Oh, Lord," she cried, "oh, Lord, who delivered the children from the
fiery furnace, deliver the poor handmaiden now from her terrible foes!"

While she thus prayed she saw upon the writing table before her a small
penknife. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes brightened as she seized it.

"This! this!" she said, "this small instrument is sufficient to save
me! Should the worst ensue, I know where to find the carotid artery,
and even such a slight puncture as my timorous hand could make would
set my spirit free! Oh, my father! oh, my father! you little thought
when you taught your Clara the mysteries of anatomy to what a fearful
use she would put your lessons! And would it be right? Oh, would it be
right? One may desire death, but can anything justify suicide? Oh,
Father in heaven, guide me! guide me!" cried Clara, falling upon her
knees and sobbing forth this prayer of agony.

Soon approaching footsteps drew her attention. And she had only time to
rise and put back her damp, disheveled hair from her tear-stained face
before the door opened and Dorcas Knight appeared and said:

"Here is this young woman come again."

"I declare, Miss Day," said Cap, laughing, "you have the most
accomplished, polite and agreeable servants here that I ever met with!
Think with what a courteous welcome this woman received me--' Here you
are again!' she said. 'You'll come once too often for your own good,
and that I tell you.' I answered that every time I came it appeared to
be once too often for her liking. She rejoined, 'The colonel has come
home, and he don't like company, so I advise you to make your call a
short one.' I assured her that I should measure the length of my visit
by the breadth of my will--But good angels, Clara! what is the matter?
You look worse than death!" exclaimed Capitola, noticing for the first
time the pale, wild, despairing face of her companion.

Clara clasped her hands as if in prayer and raised her eyes with an
appealing gaze into Capitola's face.

"Tell me, dear Clara, what is the matter? How can I help you? What
shall I do for you?" said our heroine.

Before trusting herself to reply, Clara gazed wistfully into Capitola's
eyes, as though she would have read her soul.

Cap did not blanch nor for an instant avert her own honest, gray orbs;
she let Clara gaze straight down through those clear windows of the
soul into the very soul itself, where she found only truth, honesty and
courage.

The scrutiny seemed to be satisfactory for Clara soon took the hand of
her visitor and said:

"Capitola, I will tell you. It is a horrid, horrid story, but you shall
know all. Come with me to my chamber."

Cap pressed the hand that was so confidingly placed in hers and
accompanied Clara to her room, where, after the latter had taken the
precaution to lock the door, the two girls sat down for a confidential
talk.

Clara, like the author of Robin Hood's Barn, "began at the beginning"
of her story, and told everything--her betrothal to Traverse Rocke; the
sudden death of her father; the decision of the Orphans' Court; the
departure of Traverse for the far West; her arrival at the Hidden
House; the interruption of all her epistolary correspondence with her
betrothed and his mother; the awful and mysterious occurrences of that
dreadful night when she suspected some heinous crime had been
committed; and finally of the long, unwelcome suit of Craven Le Noir
and the present attempt to force him upon her as a husband.

Cap listened very calmly to this story, showing very little sympathy,
for there was not a bit of sentimentality about our Cap.

"And now," whispered Clara, while the pallor of horror overspread her
face, "by threatening me with a fate worse than death, they would drive
me to marry Craven Le Noir!"

"Yes, I know I would!" said Cap, as if speaking to herself, but by her
tone and manner clothing these simple words in the very keenest sarcasm.

"What would you do, Capitola?" asked Clara, raising her tearful eyes to
the last speaker.

"Marry Mr. Craven Le Noir and thank him, too!" said Cap. Then, suddenly
changing her tone, she exclaimed:

"I wish--oh! how I wish it was only me in your place--that it was only
me they were trying to marry against my will!"

"What would you do?" asked Clara, earnestly.

"What would I do? Oh! wouldn't I make them know the difference between
their Sovereign Lady and Sam the Lackey? If I had been in your place
and that dastard Le Noir had said to me what he said to you, I do
believe I should have stricken him down with the lightning of my eyes!
But what shall you do, my poor Clara?"

"Alas! alas! see here! this is my last resort!" replied the unhappy
girl, showing the little pen-knife.

"Put it away from you! put it away from you!" exclaimed Capitola
earnestly; "suicide is never, never, never justifiable! God is the Lord
of life and death! He is the only judge whether a mortal's sorrows are
to be relieved by death, and when He does not Himself release you, He
means that you shall live and endure! That proves that suicide is never
right, let the Roman pagans have said and done what they pleased. So no
more of that! There are enough other ways of escape for you!"

"Ah! what are they? You would give me life by teaching me how to
escape!" said Clara, fervently.

"The first and most obvious means that suggests itself to my mind,"
said Cap, "is to--run away!"

"Ah! that is impossible. The servants are warned; the doors are all
locked; I am watched!"

"Then the next plan is equally obvious. Consent to go with them to the
church, and when you get there, denounce them and claim the protection
of the clergyman!"

"Ah! dear girl, that is still more impracticable. The officiating
clergyman is their friend, and even if I could consent to act a
deceitful part, and should go to church as if to marry Craven and upon
getting there denounce him, instead of receiving the protection of the
clergyman I should be restored to the hands of my legal guardian and be
brought back here to meet a fate worse than death," said Clara, in a
tone of despair.

Capitola did not at once reply, but fell into deep thought, which
lasted many minutes. Then, speaking more gravely than she had spoken
before, she said:

"There is but one plan of escape left, your only remaining chance, and
that full of danger!"

"Oh, why should I fear danger? What evil can befall me so great as that
which now threatens me?" said Clara.

"This plan requires on your part great courage, self-control and
presence of mind."

"Teach me! teach me, dear Capitola. I will be an apt pupil!"

"I have thought it all out, and will tell you my plan. It is now eleven
o'clock in the forenoon, and the carriage is to come for you at six
this evening, I believe?"

"Yes! yes!"

"Then you have seven hours in which to save yourself! And this is my
plan: First, Clara, you must change clothes with me, giving me your
suit of mourning and putting on my riding habit, hat and veil! Then,
leaving me here in your place, you are to pull the veil down closely
over your face and walk right out of the house! No one will speak to
you, for they never do to me. When you have reached the park, spring
upon my horse and put whip to him for the village of Tip Top. My
servant, Wool, will ride after you, but not speak to you or approach
near enough to discover your identity--for he has been ordered by his
master to keep me in sight, and he has been forbidden by his mistress
to intrude upon her privacy. You will reach Tip Top by three o'clock,
when the Staunton stage passes through. You may then reveal yourself to
Wool, give my horse into his charge, get into the coach and start for
Staunton. Upon reaching that place, put yourself under the protection
of your friends, the two old physicians, and get them to prosecute your
guardian for cruelty and flagrant abuse of authority. Be cool, firm and
alert, and all will be well!"

Clara, who had listened to this little Napoleon in petticoats with
breathless interest, now clasped her hands in a wild ecstasy of joy and
exclaimed:

"I will try it! Oh, Capitola I will try it! Heaven bless you for the
counsel!"

"Be quick, then; change your dress! provide yourself with a purse of
money, and I will give you particular directions how to make a short
cut for Tip Top. Ha, ha, ha!, when they come for the bride she will be
already rolling on the turnpike between Tip Top and Staunton!"

"But you! Oh, you, my generous deliverer?"

"I shall dress myself in your clothes and stay here in your place to
keep you from being missed, so as to give you full time to make your
escape."

"But--you will place yourself in the enraged lion's jaws! You will
remain in the power of two men who know neither justice nor mercy! Who,
in their love or their hate, fear neither God nor man! Oh, Capitola!
how can I take an advantage of your generosity, and leave you here in
such extreme peril? Capitola, I cannot do it!"

"Well, then, I believe, you must be anxious to marry Craven Le Noir!"

"Oh, Capitola!"

"Well, if you are not, hurry and get ready; there is no time to be
lost!"

"But you! but you, my generous friend!"

"Never mind me. I shall be safe enough! I am not afraid of the Le
Noirs. Bless their wigs; I should like to see them make me blanch. On
the contrary, I desire above all things to be pitted against these two!
How I shall enjoy their disappointment and rage! Oh, it will be a rare
frolic!"

While Capitola was speaking she was also busily engaged doing. She went
softly to the door and turned the key in the lock, to prevent any one
from looking through the keyhole, murmuring as she did it:

"I wasn't brought up among the detective policemen for nothing!"

Then she began to take off her riding-habit. Quickly she dressed Clara,
superintending all the details of her disguise as carefully as though
she were the costumer of a new debutante. When Clara was dressed she
was so nearly of the same size and shape of Capitola that from behind
no one would have suspected her identity.

"There, Clara! tuck your light hair out of the way; pull your cap over
your eyes; gather your veil down close; draw up your figure; throw back
your head; walk with a little springy sway and swagger, as if you
didn't care a damson for anybody, and--there! I declare no one could
tell you from me!" exclaimed Capitola in delight, as she completed the
disguise and the instructions of Clara.

Then Capitola dressed herself in Clara's deep mourning robes. And then
the two girls sat down to compose themselves for a few minutes, while
Capitola gave new and particular directions for Clara's course and
conduct, so as to insure as far as human foresight could do it, the
safe termination of her perilous adventure. By the time they had ended
their talk the hall clock struck twelve.

"There! it is full time you should be off! Be calm, be cool, be firm,
and God bless you, Clara! Dear girl! if I were only a young man I would
deliver you by the strength of my own arms, without subjecting you to
inconvenience or danger!" said Cap, gallantly, as she led Clara to the
chamber door and carefully gathered her thick veil in close folds over
her face, so as entirely to conceal it.

"Oh, may the Lord in heaven bless and preserve and reward you, my
brave, my noble, my heroic Capitola!" said Clara, fervently, with the
tears rushing to her eyes.

"Bosh!" said Cap. "If you go doing the sentimental you won't look like
me a bit, and that will spoil all. There! keep your veil close, for
it's windy, you know; throw back your head and fling yourself along
with a swagger, as if you didn't care, ahem! for anybody, and--there
you are!" said Cap, pushing Clara out and shutting the door behind her.

Clara paused an instant to offer up one short, fervent prayer for her
success and Capitola's safety, and then following her instructions,
went on.

Nearly all girls are clever imitators, and Clara readily adopted
Capitola's light, springy, swaying walk, and met old Dorcas Knight in
the hall, without exciting the slightest suspicion of her identity.

"Humph!" said the woman; "so you are going! I advise you not to come
back again!"

Clara threw up her head with a swagger, and went on.

"Very well, you may scorn my words, but if you know your own good
you'll follow my advice!" said Dorcas Knight, harshly.

Clara flung up her head and passed out.

Before the door Wool was waiting with the horses. Keeping her face
closely muffled, Clara went to Capitola's pony. Wool came and helped
her into the saddle, saying:

"Yer does right, Miss Cap, to keep your face kivered; it's awful windy,
ain't it, though? I kin scarcely keep the har from blowing offen my
head."

With an impatient jerk after the manner of Capitola, Clara signified
that she did not wish to converse. Wool dropped obediently behind,
mounted his horse and followed at a respectful distance until Clara
turned her horse's head and took the bridle-path toward Tip Top. This
move filled poor Wool with dismay. Riding toward her, he exclaimed:

"'Deed, Miss Cap, yer mus' scuse me for speakin' now! Whar de muschief
is yer a-goin' to?"

For all answer Clara, feigning the temper of Capitola, suddenly wheeled
her horse, elevated her riding whip and galloped upon Wool in a
threatening manner.

Wool dodged and backed his horse with all possible expedition,
exclaiming in consternation:

"Dar! dar! Miss Cap, I won't go for to ax you any more
questions--no--not if yer rides straight to Old Nick or Black Donald!"

Whereupon, receiving this apology in good part, Clara again turned her
horse's head and rode on her way.

Wool followed, bemoaning the destiny that kept him between the two
fierce fires of his old master's despotism and his young mistress's
caprice, and muttering:

"I know old marse and dis young gal am goin' to be the death of me! I
knows it jes' as well as nuffin at all! I 'clare to man, if it ain't
nuff to make anybody go heave themselves right into a grist mill and be
ground up at once." Wool spoke no more until they got to Tip Top, when
Clara still closely veiled, rode up to the stage office just as the
coach, half filled with passengers, was about to start. Springing from
her horse, she went up to Wool and said:

"Here, man, take this horse back to Hurricane Hall! Tell Major Warfield
that Miss Black remains at the Hidden House in imminent danger! Ask him
to ride there and bring her home! Tell Miss Black when you see her that
I reached Tip Top safe and in time to take the coach. Tell her I will
never cease to be grateful! And now, here is a half eagle for your
trouble! Good-by, and God bless you!" And she put the piece in his hand
and took her place in the coach, which immediately started.

As for Wool! From the time that Clara had thrown aside her veil and
began to speak to him he had stood staring and staring--his
consternation growing and growing--until it had seemed to have turned
him into stone--from which state of petrefaction he did not recover
until he saw the stage coach roll rapidly away, carrying
off--whom?--Capitola, Clara or the evil one?--Wool could not have told
which! He presently astounded the people about the stage office by
leaving his horses and taking to his heels after the stage coach,
vociferating:

"Murder! murder! help! help! stop thief! stop thief! stop the coach!
stop the coach!"

"What is the matter, man?" said a constable, trying to head him.

But Wool incontinently ran over that officer, throwing him down and
keeping on his headlong course, hat off, coat-tail streaming and legs
and arms flying like the sails of a windmill, as he tried to overtake
the coach, crying:

"Help! murder! head the horses! Stop the coach! Old marse told me not
to lose sight of her! Oh, for hebben's sake, good people, stop the
coach!"

When he got to a gate, instead of taking time to open it, he rolled
himself somersault-like right over it! When he met man or woman,
instead of turning from his straight course, he knocked them over and
passed on, garments flying and legs and arms circulating with the
velocity of a wheel.

The people whom he had successively met and overthrown in his course,
picking themselves up and getting into the village, reported that there
was a furious madman broke loose, who attacked every one he met.

And soon every man and boy in the village who could mount a horse
started in pursuit. Only race horses would have beaten the speed with
which Wool ran, urged on by fear. It was nine miles on the turnpike
road from Tip Top that the horsemen overtook and surrounded Wool, who,
seeing himself hopelessly environed, fell down upon the ground and
rolled and kicked, swearing that he would not be taken alive to have
his eyelids cut off!

It was not until after a desperate resistance that he was finally
taken, bound, put in a wagon and carried back to the village, where he
was recognized as Major Warfield's man and a messenger was despatched
for his master.

And not until he had been repeatedly assured that no harm should befall
him did Wool gain composure enough to say, amid tears of cruel grief
and fear:

"Oh, marsers! my young missus, Miss Black, done been captured and
bewitched and turned into somebody else, right afore my own two looking
eyes and gone off in dat coach! 'deed she is! and ole marse kill
me!'deed he will, gemmen! He went and ordered me not to take my eyes
offen her, and no more I didn't! But what good that do, when she turned
to somebody else, and went off right afore my two looking eyes? But ole
marse won't listen to reason. He kill me, I know he will!" whimpered
Wool, refusing to be comforted.




CHAPTER X.

CAP IN CAPTIVITY.


     I lingered here and rescue planned
     For Clara and for me.

                             --SCOTT.


Meanwhile how fared it with Capitola in the Hidden House?

"I am in for it now!" said Cap, as she closed the door behind Clara; "I
am in for it now! This is a jolly imprudent adventure! What will Wool
do when he discovers that he has 'lost sight' of me? What will uncle
say when he finds out what I've done? Whe-ew! Uncle will explode! I
wonder if the walls at Hurricane Hall will be strong enough to stand
it! Wool will go mad! I doubt if he will ever do a bit more good in
this world!"

"But above all, I wonder what the Le Noirs, father and son, will say
when they find that the heiress is flown and a 'beggar,' as uncle
flatters me by calling me, will be here in her place! Whe-ew-ew-ew!
There will be a tornado! Cap, child, they'll murder you! That's just
what they'll do! They'll kill and eat you, Cap, without any salt! or
they may lock you up in the haunted room to live with the ghost, Cap,
and that would be worse!"

"Hush! here comes Dorcas Knight! Now I must make believe I'm Clara, and
do the sentimental up brown!" concluded Capitola, as she seated herself
near the door where she could be heard, and began to sob softly.

Dorcas rapped.

Cap sobbed in response.

"Are you coming to luncheon, Miss Day?" inquired the woman.

"Ee-hee! Ee-hee! Ee-hee! I do not want to eat," sobbed Cap, in a low
and smothered voice. Any one would have thought she was drowned in
tears.

"Very well; just as you like," said the woman harshly, as she went away.

"Well, I declare," laughed Cap, "I did that quite as well as an actress
could! But now what am I to do? How long can I keep this up? Heigh-ho
'let the world slide!' I'll not reveal myself until I'm driven to it,
for when I do-! Cap, child, you'll get chawed right up!"

A little later in the day Dorcas Knight came again and rapped at the
door.

"Ee-hee! Ee-hee! Ee-hee!" sobbed Cap.

"Miss Day, your cousin, Craven Le Noir, wishes to speak with you alone."

"Ee-hee! Ee-hee! Ee-hee! I cannot see him!" sobbed Cap, in a low and
suffocating voice.

The woman went away, and Cap suffered no other interruption until six
o'clock, when Dorcas Knight once more rapped saying:

"Miss Day, your uncle is at the front door with the carriage, and he
wishes to know if you are ready to obey him."

"Ee-hee! Ee-hee! Ee--hee!-te-te-tell him yes!" sobbed Cap, as if her
heart would break.

The woman went off with this answer, and Capitola hastily enveloped her
form in Clara's large, black shawl, put on Clara's black bonnet and
tied her thick mourning veil closely over her face.

"A pretty bridal dress, this; but, however, I suppose these men are no
more particular about my costume than they are about their own
conduct," said Cap.

She had just drawn on her gloves when she heard the footsteps of two
men approaching. They rapped at the door.

"Come in," she sobbed, in a low, broken voice, that might have belonged
to any girl in deep distress, and she put a white cambric handkerchief
up to her eyes and drew her thick veil closely over her face.

The two Le Noirs immediately entered the room. Craven approached her
and whispered, softly:

"You will forgive me this, my share in these proceedings after awhile,
sweet Clara! The Sabine women did not love the Roman youths the less
that they were forcibly made wives by them."

"Ee-hee! Ee-hee! Ee-hee!" sobbed Cap, entirely concealing her white
cambric handkerchief under her impenetrable veil.

"Come, come! we lose time!" said the elder Le Noir "Draw her arm within
yours, Craven, and lead her out."

The young man did as he was directed and led Cap from the room. It was
now quite dark--the long, dreary passage was only dimly lighted by a
hanging lamp, so that with the care she took there was scarcely a
possibility of Capitola's being discovered. They went on, Craven Le
Noir whispering hypocritical apologies and Cap replying only by low
sobs.

When they reached the outer door they found a close carriage drawn up
before the house.

To this Craven Le Noir led Capitola, placed her within and took the
seat by her side. Colonel Le Noir followed and placed himself in the
front seat opposite them. And the carriage was driven rapidly off.

An hour's ride brought the party to an obscure church in the depths of
the forest, which Capitola recognized by the cross on its top to be a
Roman Catholic chapel.

Here the carriage drew up and the two Le Noirs got out and assisted
Capitola to alight.

They then led her into the church, which was dimly illumined by a pair
of wax candles burning before the altar. A priest in his sacerdotal
robes was in attendance. A few country people were scattered thinly
about among the pews, at their private devotions.

Guarded by Craven Le Noir on the right and Colonel Le Noir on the left,
Capitola was marched up the aisle and placed before the altar.

Colonel Le Noir then went and spoke apart to the officiating priest,
saying, in a tone of dissatisfaction:

"I told you, sir, that as our bride was an orphan, recently bereaved,
and still in deep mourning, we wished the marriage ceremony to be
strictly private, and you gave me to understand, sir, that at this hour
the chapel was most likely to be vacant. Yet, here I find a half a
score of people! How is this?"

"Sir," replied the priest, "it is true that at this hour of the evening
the chapel is most likely to be vacant, but it is not therefore certain
to be so! nor did I promise as much! Our chapel is, as you know, open
at all hours of the day and night, that all who please may come and
pray. These people that you see are hard-working farm laborers, who
have no time to come in the day, and who are now here to offer up their
evening prayers, and also, some of them, to examine their consciences
preparatory to confession! They can certainly be no interruption to
this ceremony."

"Egad, I don't know that!" muttered Colonel Le Noir between his teeth.

As for Cap, the sight of other persons present in the chapel filled her
heart with joy and exultation, inasmuch as it insured her final safety.
And so she just abandoned herself to the spirit of frolic that
possessed her, and anticipated with the keenest relish the denouement
of her strange adventure.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Proceed, sir, proceed!" said Colonel Le
Noir as he took Cap by the shoulders and placed her on the left side of
his son, while he himself stood behind ready to "give the bride away."

The ceremony immediately commenced.

The prologue beginning, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together
here," etc., etc., etc., was read.

The solemn exhortation to the contracting parties, commencing "I
require and charge ye both, as ye shall answer in the dreadful day of
judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if
either of you know any just cause or impediment why ye may not lawfully
be joined together," etc., etc., etc., followed.

Capitola listened to all this with the deepest attention, saying to
herself: "Well, I declare, this getting married is really awfully
interesting! If it were not for Herbert Greyson, I'd just let it go
right straight on to the end and see what would happen next!"

While Cap was making these mental comments the priest was asking the
bridegroom:

"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife," etc., etc., etc.,
"so long as ye both shall live?"

To which Craven Le Noir, in a sonorous voice responded: "I will."

"Indeed you will? We'll see that presently!" said Cap to herself.

The priest then turning toward the bride, inquired:

"Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, etc., etc., etc., so
long as ye both shall live?"

To which the bride, throwing aside her veil, answered firmly:

"No! not if he were the last man and I the last woman on the face of
the earth and the human race was about to become extinct and the angel
of Gabriel came down from above to ask it of me as a personal favor."

The effect of this outburst, this revelation, this explosion, may be
imagined but can never be adequately described.

The priest dropped his book and stood with lifted hands and open mouth
and staring eyes as though he had raised a ghost!

The two Le Noirs simultaneously sprang forward, astonishment,
disappointment and rage contending in their blanched faces.

"Who are you, girl?" exclaimed Colonel Le Noir.

"Capitola Black, your honor's glory!" she replied, making a deep
curtsey.

"What the foul fiend is the meaning of all this?" in the same breath
inquired the father and son.

Cap put her thumb on the side of her nose, and, whirling her four
fingers, replied:

"It means, your worships' excellencies, that--you--can't come it! it's
no go!' this chicken won't fight It means that the fat's in the fire,
and the cat's out of the bag! It means confusion! distraction!
perdition! and a tearing off of our wigs! It means the game's up, the
play's over, villainy is about to be hanged and virtue about to be
married, and the curtain is going to drop and the principal
performer--that's I-is going to be called out amid the applause of the
audience!" Then, suddenly changing her mocking tone to one of great
severity, she said:

"It means that you have been outwitted by a girl! It means that your
purposed victim has fled, and is by this time in safety! It means that
you two, precious father and son, would be a pair of knaves if you had
sense enough; but, failing in that, you are only a pair of fools!"

By this time the attention of the few persons in the church was
aroused. They all arose to their feet to look and listen, and some of
them left their places and approached the altar. And to these latter
Capitola now suddenly turned and said aloud:

"Good people, I am Capitola Black, the niece and ward of Major Ira
Warfield, of Hurricane Hall, whom you all know, and now I claim your
protection while I shall tell you the meaning of my presence here!"

"Don't listen to her. She is a maniac!" cried Colonel Le Noir.

"Stop her mouth!" cried Craven, springing upon Capitola and holding her
tightly in the grasp of his right arm, while he covered her lips and
nostrils with his large left hand.

Capitola struggled so fiercely to free herself that Craven had enough
to do to hold her, and so was not aware of a ringing footstep coming up
the aisle, until a stunning blow dealt from a strong arm covered his
face with blood and stretched him out at Capitola's feet.

Cap flushed, breathless and confused, looked up and was caught to the
bosom of Herbert Greyson, who, pale with concentrated rage, held her
closely and inquired:

"Capitola! What violence is this which has been done you? Explain! who
is the aggresor?"

"Wai, wai, wait until I get my breath! There! that was good!  That
villain has all but strangled me to death? Oh, Herbert, I'm so
delighted you've come! How is it that you always drop right down at the
right time and on the right spot?" said Cap, while gasping for breath.

"I will tell you another time! Now I want an explanation."

"Yes, Herbert, I also wish to explain--not only to you but to these
gaping, good people!  Let me have a hearing!" said Cap.

"She is mad! absolutely mad!" cried Colonel Le Noir, who was assisting
his son to rise.

"Silence, sir!" thundered Herbert Greyson, advancing toward him with
uplifted and threatening hand.

"Gentlemen! gentlemen! pray remember that you are within the walls of a
church!" said the distressed priest.

"Craven, this is no place for us; let us go and pursue our fugitive
ward," whispered Colonel Le Noir to his son.

"We might as well; for it is clear that all is over here!" replied
Craven. And the two baffled villains turned to leave the place. But
Herbert Greyson, speaking up, said:

"Good people, prevent the escape of those men until we hear what this
young lady has to say! that we may judge whether to let them go or to
take them before a magistrate."

The people flew to the doors and windows and secured them, and then
surrounded the two Le Noirs, who found themselves prisoners.

"Now, Capitola, tell us how it is that you are here!" said Herbert
Greyson.

"Well, that elder man" said Cap, "is the guardian of a young heiress
who was betrothed to a worthy young man, one Doctor Traverse Rocke."

"My friend!" interrupted Herbert.

"Yes, Mr. Greyson, your friend! Their engagement was approved by the
young lady's father, who gave them his dying blessing. Nevertheless, in
the face of all this, this 'guardian' here, appointed by the Orphans'
Court to take charge of the heiress and her fortune, undertakes, for
his own ends, to compel the young lady to break her engagement and
marry his own son! To drive her to this measure, he does not hesitate
to use every species of cruelty. This night he was to have forced her
to this altar! But in the interval, to-day, I chanced to visit her at
the house where she was confined. Being informed by her of her
distressing situation, and having no time to help her in any better
way, I just changed clothes with her. She escaped unsuspected in my
dress. And those two heroes there, mistaking me for her, forced me into
a carriage and dragged me hither to be married against my will. And
instead of catching an heiress, they caught a Tartar, that's all! And
now, Herbert, let the two poor wretches go hide their mortification,
and do you take me home, for I am immensely tired of doing the
sentimental, making speeches and piling up the agonies!"

While Cap was delivering this long oration, the two Le Noirs had made
several essays to interrupt and contradict her, but were effectually
prevented by the people, whose sympathies were all with the speaker.
Now, at Herbert Greyson's command, they released the culprits, who,
threatening loudly took their departure.

Herbert then led Capitola out and placed her upon her own pony, Gyp,
which, to her unbounded astonishment, she found there in charge of
Wool, who was also mounted upon his own hack.

Herbert Greyson threw himself into the saddle of a third horse, and the
three took the road to Hurricane Hall.

"And now," said Capitola, as Herbert rode up to her side, "for mercy
sake tell me, before I go crazy with conjecture, how it happened that
you dropped down from the sky at the very moment and on the very spot
where you were needed? and where did you light upon Wool and the
horses?"

"It is very simple when you come to understand it," said Herbert,
smiling. "In the first place, you know, I graduated at the last
commencement."

"Yes."

"Well, I have just received a lieutenant's commission in a regiment
that is ordered to join General Scott in Mexico."

"Oh, Herbert, that is news, and I don't know whether to be in despair
or in ecstasy!" said Cap, ready to laugh or cry, as a feather's weight
might tip the scales in which she balanced Herbert's new honors with
his approaching perils.

"If there's any doubt about it, I decidedly recommend the latter
emotion," said Herbert, laughing.

"When do you go?" inquired Cap.

"Our regiment embarks from Baltimore on the first of next month.
Meanwhile I got leave of absence to come and spend a week with my
friends at home!"

"Oh, Herbert, I--I am in a quandary! But you haven't told me yet how
you happened to meet Wool and to come here just in the nick of time!"

"I am just going to do so. Well, you see Capitola, I came down in the
stage to Tip Top, which I reached about three o'clock. And there I
found Wool in the hands of the Philistines, suspected of being mad,
from the manner in which he raved about losing sight of you. Well, of
course, like a true knight, I delivered my lady's squire, comforted and
reassured him and made him mount his own horse and take charge of
yours. After which I mounted the best beast that I had hired to convey
me to Hurricane Hall, and we all set off thither. I confess that I was
excessively anxious upon your account, for I could make nothing
whatever of Wool's wild story of your supposed metamorphosis! I thought
it best to make a circuit and take the Hidden House in our course, to
make some inquiries there as to what had really happened. I had got a
little bewildered between the dark night and the strange road, and,
seeing the light in the church, I had just ridden up to inquire my way,
when to my astonishment I saw you within, before the altar, struggling
in the grasp of that ruffian. And you know the rest! And now let us
ride on quickly, for I have a strong presentiment that Major Warfield
is suffering the tortures of a lost soul through anxiety upon your
account," concluded Herbert Greyson.

"Please, Marse Herbert and Miss Cap, don't you tell ole marse nuffin
'tall 'bout my loosin' sight of you!" pleaded Wool.

"We shall tell you old master all about it, Wool, for I would not have
him miss the pleasure of hearing this adventure upon any account; but I
promise to bear you harmless through it," said Herbert, as they
galloped rapidly toward home.

They reached Hurricane Hall by eight o'clock, and in good time for
supper. They found Old Hurricane storming all over the house, and
ordering everybody off the premises in his fury of anxiety upon
Capitola's account. But when the party arrived, surprise at seeing them
in the company of Herbert Greyson quite revolutionized his mood, and,
forgetting to rage, he gave them all a hearty welcome.

And when after supper was over and they were all gathered around the
comfortable fireside, and Herbert related the adventures and feats of
Capitola at the Hidden House, and in the forest chapel, the old man
grasped the hand of his favorite and with his stormy old eyes full of
rain said:

"You deserve to have been a man, Cap! Indeed you do, my girl!"

That was his highest style of praise.

Then Herbert told his own little story of getting his commission and
being ordered to Mexico.

"God bless you, lad, and save you in the battle and bring you home with
victory!" was old Hurricane's comment.

Then seeing that the young people were quite worn out with fatigue, and
feeling not averse to his own comfortable couch, Old Hurricane broke up
the circle and they all retired to rest.




CHAPTER XI.

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR AT MARAH'S COTTAGE.


    "Friend wilt thou give me shelter here?
     The stranger meekly saith
     My life is hunted! evil men
     Are following on my path."


Marah Rocke sat by her lonely fireside.

The cottage was not changed in any respect since the day upon which we
first of all found her there. There was the same bright, little wood
fire; the same clean hearth and the identical faded carpet on the
floor. There was the dresser with its glistening crockery ware on the
right, and the shelves with Traverse's old school books on the left of
the fireplace.

The widow herself had changed in nothing except that her clean black
dress was threadbare and rusty, and her patient face whiter and thinner
than before.

And now there was no eager restlessness: no frequent listening and
looking toward the door. Alas! she could not now expect to hear her
boy's light and springing step and cheerful voice as he hurried home at
eventide from his daily work. Traverse was far away at St. Louis
undergoing the cares and trials of a friendless young physician trying
to get into practice. Six months had passed since he took leave of her,
and there was as yet no hope of his returning even, to pay a visit.

So Marah sat very still and sad, bending over her needlework without
ever turning her head in the direction of the door. True, he wrote to
her every week. No Wednesday ever passed without bringing her a letter
written in a strong, buoyant and encouraging strain. Still she missed
Traverse very sadly. It was dreary to rise up in the empty house every
morning; dreary to sit down to her solitary meals, and drearier still
to go to bed in her lonely room without having received her boy's kiss
and heard his cheerful good-night. And it was her custom every night to
read over Traverse's last letter before retiring to bed.

It was getting on toward ten o'clock when she folded up her work and
put it away and drew her boy's latest epistle from her bosom to read.
It ran as follows:

                                 St. Louis, Dec. 1st, 184--.

My dearest Mother--I am very glad to hear that you continue in good
health, and that you do not work too hard, or miss me too sadly. It is
the greatest comfort of my life to hear good news of you, sweet mother.
I count the days from one letter to another, and read every last letter
over daily until I get a new one. You insist upon my telling you how I
am getting on, and whether I am out of money. I am doing quite well,
ma'am, and have some funds left! I have quite a considerable practice.
It is true that my professional services are in request only among the
very poor, who pay me with their thanks and good wishes. But I am very
glad to be able to pay off a small part of the great debt of gratitude
I owe to the benevolent of this world by doing all that I can in my
turn for the needy. And even if I had never myself been the object of a
good man's benevolence, I should still have desired to serve the
indigent; "for whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord," and I
"like the security." Therefore, sweet mother of mine, be at ease; for I
am getting on swimmingly--with one exception. Still I do not hear from
our Clara! Six months have now passed, during which, despite of her
seeming silence, I have written to her every week; but not one letter
or message have I received from her in return! And now you tell me also
that you have not received a single letter from her either! I know not
what to think. Anxiety upon her account is my one sole trouble! Not
that I wrong the dear girl by one instant's doubt of her constancy--no!
my soul upon her truth! if I could do that, I should be most unworthy
of her love! No, mother, you and I know that Clara is true! But ah, we
do not know to what sufferings she may be subjected by Le Noir, who I
firmly believe has intercepted all our letters. Mother, I am about to
ask a great, perhaps an unreasonable, favor of you! It is to go down
into the neighborhood of the Hidden House and make inquiries and try to
find out Clara's real condition. If it be possible, put yourself into
communication with her, and tell her that I judge her heart by my own,
and have the firmest faith in her constancy, even though I have written
to her every week for six months without ever having received an
answer. I feel that I am putting you to expense and trouble, but my
great anxiety about Clara, which I am sure you share, must be my
excuse. I kiss your dear and honored hands, and remain ever your loving
son and faithful servant.

                                              TRAVERSE ROCKE.

"I must try to go. It will be an awful expense, because I know no one
down there, and I shall have to board at the tavern at Tip Top while I
am making inquiries--for I dare not approach the dwelling of Gabriel Le
Noir!" said Marah Rocke, as she folded up her letter and replaced it in
her bosom.

Just at that moment she heard the sound of wheels approach and a
vehicle of some sort draw up to the gate and some one speaking without.

She went to the door, and, listening, heard a girlish voice say:

"A dollar? Yes, certainly here it is. There, you may go now."

She recognized the voice, and with a cry of joy jerked the door open
just as the carriage rolled away. And the next instant Clara Day was in
her arms.

"Oh, my darling! my darling! my darling! is this really you? Really,
really you, and no dream?" cried Marah Rocke, all in a flutter of
excitement, as she strained Clara to her bosom.

"Yes, it is I, sweet friend, come to stay with you a long time,
perhaps," said Clara, softly, returning her caresses.

"Oh, my lamb! my lamb! what a joyful surprise! I do think I shall go
crazy! Where did you come from, my pet? Who came with you? When did you
start? Did Le Noir consent to your coming? And how did it all happen?
But, dear child, how worn and weary you look! You must be very tired!
Have you had supper? Oh, my darling, come and lie down on this soft
lounge while I put away your things and get you some refreshment," said
Marah Rocke, in a delirium of joy, as she took off Clara's hat and sack
and laid her down to rest on the lounge, which she wheeled up near the
fire.

"Oh, my sweet, we have been so anxious about you! Traverse and myself!
Traverse is still at St. Louis, love, getting on slowly. He has written
to you every week, and so, indeed have I, but we neither of us have had
so much as one letter in reply. And yet neither of us ever doubted your
true heart, my child. We knew that the letters must have been lost,
miscarried or intercepted," said Marah, as she busied herself putting
on the tea-kettle.

"They must, indeed, since my experience in regard to letters exactly
corresponds with yours! I have written every week to both of you, yet
never received one line in reply from either," said Clara.

"We knew it! We said so! Oh, those Le Noirs! Those Le Noirs! But, my
darling, you are perfectly exhausted, and though I have asked you a
half an hundred questions you shall not reply to one of them, nor talk
a bit more until you have rested and had refreshment. Here, my love;
here is Traverse's last letter. It will amuse you to lie and read it
while I am getting tea," said Marah, taking the paper from her bosom
and handing it to Clara, and then placing the stand with the light near
the head of her couch that she might see to read it without rising.

And while Clara, well pleased perused and smiled over her lover's
letter, Marah Rocke laid the cloth and spread a delicate repast of tea,
milk toast and poached eggs, of which she tenderly pressed her visitor
to partake.

And when Clara was somewhat refreshed by food and rest, she said:

"Now, dear mamma, you will wish to hear how it happens that I am with
you to-night."

"Not unless you feel quite rested, dear girl."

"I am rested sufficiently for the purpose; besides, I am anxious to
tell you. And oh, dear mamma! I could just now sit in your lap and lay
my head upon your kind, soft bosom so willingly!"

"Come, then, Clara! Come, then, my darling." said Marah, tenderly,
holding out her arms.

"No, no, mamma; you are too little; it would be a sin!" said Clara,
smiling; "but I will sit by you and put my hand in yours and rest my
head against your shoulder while I tell you all about it."

"Come, then, my darling!" said Marah Rocke.

Clara took the offered seat, and when she was fixed to her liking she
commenced and related to her friend a full history of all that had
occurred to her at the Hidden House from the moment that she had first
crossed its threshold to the hour in which, through the courage and
address of Capitola, she was delivered from imminent peril.

"And now," said Clara, in conclusion, "I have come hither in order to
get Doctor Williams to make one more appeal for me to the Orphans'
Court. And when it is proved what a traitor my guardian has been to his
trust I have no doubt that the judge will appoint some one else in his
place, or at least see that my father's last wish in regard to my
residence is carried into effect."

"Heaven grant it, my child! Heaven grant it! Oh, those Le Noirs! those
Le Noirs! Were there ever in the world before such ruthless villains
and accomplished hypocrites?" said Marah Rocke, clasping her hands in
the strength of her emotions.

A long time yet they talked together, and then they retired to bed, and
still talked until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning the widow arose early, gazed a little while with
delight upon the sleeping daughter of her heart, pressed a kiss upon
her cheek so softly as not to disturb her rest, and then, leaving her
still in the deep, sweet sleep of wearied youth, she went down-stairs
to get a nice breakfast.

Luckily a farmer's cart was just passing the road before the cottage on
its way to market.

Marah took out her little purse from her pocket, hailed the driver and
expended half her little store in purchasing two young chickens, some
eggs and some dried peaches, saying to herself:

"Dear Clara always had a good appetite, and healthy young human nature
must live substantially in spite of all its little heart-aches."

While Marah was preparing the chicken for the gridiron the door at the
foot of the stairs opened and Clara came in, looking, after her night's
rest, as fresh as a rosebud.

"What! up with the sun, my darling?" said Marah, going to meet her.

"Yes, mamma! Oh! it is so good to be here with you in this nice, quiet
place, with no one to make me shudder! But you must let me help you,
mamma! See! I will set the table and make the toast!"

"Oh, Miss Clara--"

"Yes, I will! I have been ill used and made miserable, and now you must
pet me, mamma, and let me have my own way and help you to cook our
little meals and to make the house tidy and afterward to work those
buttonholes in the shirts you were spoiling your gentle eyes over last
night. Oh! if they will only let me stay here with you and be at peace,
we shall be very happy together, you and I!" said Clara, as she drew
out the little table and laid the cloth.

"My dear child, may the Lord make you as happy as your sweet affection
would make me!" said Marah.

"We can work for our living together," continued Clara, as she gaily
flitted about from the dresser to the table, placing the cups and
saucers and plates. "You can sew the seams and do the plain hemming,
and I can work the buttonholes and stitch the bosoms, collars and
wristbands! And 'if the worst comes to the worst,' we can hang out our
little shingle before the cottage gate, inscribed with:"

                      MRS. ROCKE AND DAUGHTER.

                          Shirt Makers.

             Orders executed with neatness and dispatch.

"We'd drive a thriving business, mamma, I assure you," said Clara, as
she sat down on a low stool at the hearth and began to toast the bread.

"I trust in heaven that it will never come to that with you, my dear!"

"Why? Why, mamma? Why should I not taste of toil and care as well as
others a thousand times better than myself? Why should not I work as
well as you and Traverse, mamma? I stand upon the broad platform of
human rights, and I say I have just as good a right to work as others!"
said Clara, with a pretty assumption of obstinacy, as she placed the
plate of toast upon the board.

"Doubtless, dear Clara, you may play at work just as much as you
please; but heaven forbid you should ever have to work at work!"
replied Mrs. Rocke as she placed the coffee pot and the dish of broiled
chicken on the table.

"Why, mamma, I do not think that is a good prayer at all! That is a
wicked, proud prayer, Mrs. Marah Rocke! Why shouldn't your daughter
really toil as well as other people's daughters, I'd like to be
informed?" said Clara, mockingly, as they both took their seats at the
table.

"I think, dear Clara, that you must have contracted some of your
eccentric little friend Capitola's ways, from putting on her habit! I
never before saw you in such gay spirits!" said Mrs. Rocke, as she
poured out the coffee.

"Oh, mamma; it is but the glad rebound of the freed bird! I am so glad
to have escaped from that dark prison of the Hidden House and to be
here with you. But tell me, mamma, is my old home occupied?"

"No, my dear; no tenant has been found for it. The property is in the
hands of an agent to let, but the house remains quite vacant and
deserted."

"Why is that?" asked Clara.

"Why, my love, for the strangest reason! The foolish country people say
that since the doctor's death the place has been haunted!"

"Haunted!"

"Yes, my dear, so the foolish people say, and they get wiser ones to
believe them."

"What exactly do they say? I hope--I hope they do not trifle with my
dear father's honored name and memory?"

"Oh, no, my darling! no! but they say that although the house is quite
empty and deserted by the living strange sights and sounds are heard
and seen by passers-by at night. Lights appear at the upper windows
from which pale faces look out."

"How very strange!" said Clara.

"Yes, my dear, and these stories have gained such credence that no one
can be found to take the house."

"So much the better, dear mamma, for if the new judge of the Orphans'
Court should give a decision in our favor, as he must, when he hears
the evidence, old and new, you and I can move right into it and need
not then enter the shirt-making line of business!"

"Heaven grant it, my dear! But now, Clara, my love, we must lose no
time in seeing Doctor Williams, lest your guardian should pursue you
here and give you fresh trouble."

Clara assented to this, and they immediately arose from the table,
cleared away the service, put the room in order and went up-stairs to
put on their bonnets, Mrs. Rocke lending Clara her own best bonnet and
shawl. When they were quite ready they locked up the house and set out
for the town.

It was a bright, frosty, invigorating winter's morning, and the two
friends walked rapidly until they reached Doctor Williams' house.

The kind old man was at home, and was much surprised and pleased to see
his visitors. He invited them into his parlor, and when he had heard
their story, he said: "This is a much more serious affair than the
other. We must employ counsel. Witnesses must be brought from the
neighborhood of the Hidden House. You are aware that the late judge of
the Orphans' Court has been appointed to a high office under the
government at Washington. The man that has taken his place is a person
of sound integrity, who will do his duty. It remains only for us to
prove the justice of our cause to his satisfaction, and all will be
well."

"Oh, I trust in heaven that it will be," said Marah, fervently.

"You two must stay in my house until the affair is decided. You might
possibly be safe from real injury; but you could not be free from
molestation in your unprotected condition at the cottage," said Doctor
Williams.

Clara warmly expressed her thanks.

"You had better go home now and pack up what you wish to bring, and put
out the fire and close up the house and come here immediately. In the
mean time I will see your dear father's solicitor and be ready with my
report by the time you get back," said Doctor Williams, promptly taking
his hat to go.

Mrs. Rocke and Clara set out for the cottage, which they soon reached.

Throwing off her bonnet and shawl, Clara said:

"Now, mamma, the very first thing I shall do will be to write to
Traverse, so that we can send the letter by to-day's mail and set his
mind at rest. I shall simply tell him that our mutual letters have
failed to reach their destination, but that I am now on a visit to you,
and that while I remain here nothing can interrupt our correspondence.
I shall not speak of the coming suit until we see how it will end."

Mrs. Rocke approved this plan, and placed writing materials on the
table. And while the matron employed herself in closing up the rooms,
packing up what was needful to take with them to the doctor's and
putting out the fire, Clara wrote and sealed her letter. They then put
on their bonnets, locked up the house, and set out. They called at the
post-office just in time to mail their letter, and they reached the
doctor's house just as he himself walked up to the door, accompanied by
the lawyer. The latter greeted the daughter of his old client and her
friend, and they all went into the house together.

In the doctor's study the whole subject of Clara's flight and its
occasion was talked over, and the lawyer agreed to commence proceedings
immediately.




CHAPTER XII.

CAP "RESTS ON HER LAURELS" AND "SPOILS FOR A FIGHT"


    'Tis hardly in a body's power,
     To keep at times frae being sour,
     To see how things are shared;
     How best o' chiels are whiles in want,
     While coofs on countless thousands rant,
     And ken na how to wear't.

                                  --BURNS.


Leaving Clara Day and Marah Rocke in a home of safety, plenty and
kindness, in the old doctor's house, we must run down to Hurricane Hall
to see what mischief Cap has been getting into since we left her! In
truth, none! Cap had had such a surfeit of adventures that she was fain
to lie by and rest upon her laurels. Besides, there seemed just now
nothing to do--no tyrants to take down, no robbers to capture, no
distressed damsels to deliver, and Cap was again in danger of "spoiling
for a fight." And then Herbert Greyson was at the Hall--Herbert Greyson
whom she vowed always did make a Miss Nancy of her! And so Cap had to
content herself for a week with quiet mornings of needlework at her
workstand, with Herbert to read to or talk with her; sober afternoon
rides, attended by Herbert and Old Hurricane; and humdrum evenings at
the chess board, with the same Herbert, while Major Warfield dozed in a
great "sleepy hollow" of an armchair.

One afternoon when they were out riding through the woods beyond the
Demon's Run, a Sheriff's officer rode up, and bowing to the party,
presented a suspicious-looking document to Capitola and a similar one
to Herbert Greyson. And while Old Hurricane stared his eyes half out,
the parties most interested opened the papers, which they found to be
rather pressing invitations to be present at a certain solemnity at
Staunton. In a word, they were subpoenaed to give testimony in the case
of Williams vs. Le Noir.

"Here's a diabolical dilemma!" said Old Hurricane to himself, as soon
as he learned the purport of these documents.

"Here I shall have to bring Cap into court face to face with that demon
to bear witness against him! Suppose losing one ward, he should lay
claim to another! Ah, but he can't, without foully criminating himself!
Well, well, we shall see!"

While Old Hurricane was cogitating Cap was exulting.

"Oh, won't I tell all I know! Yes, and more, too!" she exclaimed, in
triumph.

"'More, too!' Oh, hoity-toity! Never say more, too!" said Herbert
laughing.

"I will, for I'll tell all I suspect!" said Cap, galloping on ahead, in
her eagerness to get home and pack up for her journey.

The next day Old Hurricane, Herbert Greyson, Capitola, Pitapat and Wool
went by stage to Staunton. They put up at the Planters' and Farmers'
Hotel, whence Herbert Greyson and Capitola soon sallied forth to see
Clara and Mrs. Rocke. They soon found the doctor's house, and were
ushered into the parlor in the presence of their friends.

The meeting between Capitola and Clara and between Mrs. Rocke and
Herbert was very cordial. And then Herbert introduced Capitola to Mrs.
Rocke and Cap presented Herbert to Clara. And they all entered into
conversation upon the subject of the coming lawsuit, and the
circumstances that led to it. And Clara and Capitola related to each
other all that had happened to each after their exchanging clothes and
parting. And when they had laughed over their mutual adventures and
misadventures, Herbert and Capitola took leave and returned to their
hotel.

Herbert Greyson was the most serious of the whole family. Upon reaching
the hotel he went to his own room and fell into deep reflection. And
this was the course of his thought:

"Ira Warfield and Marah Rocke are here in the same town--brought hither
upon the same errand--to-morrow to meet in the same court-room! And yet
not either of them suspects the presence of the other! Mrs. Rocke does
not know that in Capitola's uncle she will behold Major Warfield! He
does not foresee that in Clara's matronly friend he will behold Marah
Rocke! And Le Noir, the cause of all their misery, will be present
also! What will be the effect of this unexpected meeting? Ought I not
to warn one or the other? Let me think--no! For were I to warn Major
Warfield he would absent himself. Should I drop a hint to Marah she
would shrink from the meeting! No, I will leave it all to
Providence--perhaps the sight of her sweet, pale face and soft,
appealing eyes, so full of constancy and truth, may touch that stern
old heart! Heaven grant it may!" concluded Herbert Greyson.

The next day the suit came on.

At an early hour Doctor Williams appeared, having in charge Clara Day,
who was attended by her friend Mrs. Rocke. They were accommodated with
seats immediately in front of the judge.

Very soon afterward Major Warfield, Herbert Greyson and Capitola
entered, and took their places on the witness's bench, at the right
side of the court-room.

Herbert watched Old Hurricane, whose eyes were spellbound to the bench
where sat Mrs. Rocke and Clara. Both were dressed in deep mourning,
with their veils down and their faces toward the judge. But Herbert
dreaded every instant that Marah Rocke should turn her head and meet
that fixed, wistful look of Old Hurricane. And he wondered what strange
instinct it could be that riveted the old man's regards to that
unrecognized woman.

At last, to Herbert's great uneasiness, Major Warfield turned and
commenced questioning him:

"Who is that woman in mourning?"

"Hem--m--that one with the flaxen curls under her bonnet is Miss Day."

"I don't mean the girl, I mean the woman sitting by her?"

"That is--hem--hem--that is Doctor Williams sitting--"

Old Hurricane turned abruptly around and favored his nephew with a
severe, scrutinizing gaze, demanding:

"Herbert, have you been drinking so early in the morning? Demmy, sir,
this is not the season for mint juleps before breakfast! Is that great,
stout, round-bodied, red-faced old Doctor Williams a little woman? I
see him sitting on the right of Miss Day. I didn't refer to him! I
referred to that still, quiet little woman sitting on her left, who has
never stirred hand or foot since she sat down there. Who is she?"

"That woman? Oh, she?--yes--ah, let me see--she is a--Miss Day's
companion!" faltered Herbert.

"To the demon with you! Who does not see that? But who is she? What is
her name?" abruptly demanded Old Hurricane.

"Her name is a--a--did you ever see her before, sir?"

"I don't know! That is what I am trying to remember; but, sir, will you
answer my question?"

"You seem very much interested in her."

"You seem very much determined not to let me know who she is! Hang it,
sir, will you or will you not tell me that woman's name?"

"Certainly," said Herbert. "Her name is"--He was about to say Marah
Rocke, but moral indignation overpowered him and he paused.

"Well, well, her name is what?" impatiently demanded Old Hurricane.

"Mrs. Warfield!" answered Herbert, doggedly.

And just at that unfortunate moment Marah turned her pale face and
beseeching eyes around and met the full gaze of her husband!

In an instant her face blanched to marble and her head sank upon the
railing before her bench. Old Hurricane was too dark to grow pale, but
his bronzed cheek turned as gray as his hair, which fairly lifted
itself on his head. Grasping his walking stick with both his hands, he
tottered to his feet, and, muttering:

"I'll murder you for this, Herbert!" he strode out of the court-room.

Marah's head rested for about a minute on the railing before her and
when she lifted it again her face was as calm and patient as before.

This little incident had passed without attracting attention from any
one except Capitola, who, sitting on the other side of Herbert Greyson,
had heard the little passage of words between him and her uncle, and
had seen the latter start up and go out, and who now, turning to her
companion, inquired:

"What is the meaning of all this, Herbert?"

"It means--Satan! And now attend to what is going on! Mr. Sauter has
stated the case, and now Stringfellow, the attorney for the other side,
is just telling the judge that he stands there in the place of his
client, Lieutenant-Colonel Le Noir, who, being ordered to join General
Taylor in Mexico, is upon the eve of setting out and cannot be here in
person!"

"And is that true? Won't he be here?"

"It seems not. I think he is ashamed to appear after what has happened,
and just takes advantage of a fair excuse to absent himself."

"And is he really going to Mexico?"

"Oh, yes! I saw it officially announced in this morning's papers. And,
by the bye, I am very much afraid he is to take command of our
regiment, and be my superior officer!"

"Oh, Herbert, I hope and pray not! I think there is wickedness enough
packed up in that man's body to sink a squadron or lose an army!"

"Well, Cap, such things will happen. Attention! There's Sauter, ready
to call his witnesses!" And, in truth, the next moment Capitola Black
was called to the stand.

Cap took her place and gave her evidence con amore, and with such vim
and such expressions of indignation, that Stringfellow reminded her she
was there to give testimony, and not to plead the cause.

Cap rejoined that she was perfectly willing to do both! And so she
continued not only to tell the acts, but to express her opinions as to
the motives of Le Noir, and give her judgment as to what should be the
decision of the court.

Stringfellow, the attorney for Colonel Le Noir, evidently thought that
in this rash, reckless, spirited witness he had a fine subject for
sarcastic cross-examination! But he reckoned "without his host." He did
not know Cap! He, too, "caught a Tartar." And before the
cross-examination was concluded, Capitola's apt and cutting replies had
overwhelmed him with ridicule and confusion, and done more for the
cause of her friend than all her partisans put together!

Other witnesses were called, to corroborate the testimony of Capitola,
and still others were examined to prove the last expressed wishes of
the late William Day, in regard to the disposal of his daughter's
person during the period of her minority.

There was no effective rebutting evidence, and after some hard arguing
by the attorneys on both sides, the case was closed, and the judge
deferred his decision until the third day thereafter.

The parties then left the court and returned to their several lodgings.

Old Hurricane gave no one a civil word that day. Wool was an atrocious
villain, an incendiary scoundrel, a cut-throat, and a black demon. Cap
was a beggar, a vagabond and a vixen. Herbert Greyson was another
beggar, besides being a knave, a fop and an impudent puppy. The
inn-keeper was a swindler, the waiters thieves, the whole world was
going to ruin, where it well deserved to go, and all mankind to the
demon--as he hoped and trusted they would!

And all this tornado of passion and invective arose just because he had
unexpectedly met in the court-room the purient face and beseeching eyes
of a woman, married and forsaken, loved and lost, long ago!

Was it strange that Herbert, who had so resented his treatment of Marah
Rocke, should bear all his fury, injustice and abuse of himself and
others with such compassionate forbearance? But he not only forbore to
resent his own affronts, but so besought Capitola to have patien

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