Frederick had intended to leave San Francisco on the following day for the Atlantic coast. He was seized, however, that same night with a severe attack of fever, which kept him confined to his bed for over a fortnight. As soon, however, as he had sufficiently recovered to be able to travel, he betook himself to the offices of the railway company and purchased a ticket for New York, engaging for himself the private saloon on board the sleeping-car. On the next night he took the ferry-boat over to Oakland, and embarked on the transcontinental express. Among his fellow-passengers were a couple of young English noblemen, who had been visiting the Yosemite Valley, and who were now on their way to Ottawa. Frederick soon became acquainted with them, and created the most favorable impression. The name under which he introduced himself to them was the Comte de Vaugedale, and he gave them to understand that he was traveling around the world for his health. As both his manners and appearance bespoke every trace of aristocratic birth and breeding, and as he seemed to have plenty of money, the young Englishmen saw no cause to treat him with the distrust and suspicion which foreigners ordinarily experience at the hands of the subjects of her britannic majesty.

The time was spent in playing whist and ecarte, games at which Frederick, who was an exceedingly wealthy man, could afford to lose in such a cool manner as to attract the admiration of his fellow-travelers. So agreeable did they find their new acquaintance, that they prevailed upon him [Pg 151] to accompany them to Canada, instead of going straight to New York, as had been originally his intention.

In due time they arrived at Ottawa, having spent a few days en route at Salt Lake City, Omaha, and Chicago.

During the two weeks which they spent in the Canadian capital, they were most hospitably entertained by various persons of high birth and breeding in that city. They were also included among the guests at the ball given by the governor-general at Rideau Hall, where the man who, as “Prado,” was some years later to suffer an ignominious death at the hands of M. Deibler (the Paris executioner) had the honor of dancing with the illustrious personage who at that time graced the vice-regal mansion with her presence.

At the conclusion of their visit to Ottawa, the three young men started for Niagara Falls, which they were anxious to see, and on arriving there, took up their residence at one of the principal hotels on the Canadian side of the cataract.

The day after their arrival was spent in visiting the Cave of the Winds, and other sights of the place. That same evening, after dinner, Frederick, leaving his two friends playing billiards at the hotel, lighted a cigar, and strolled down toward the Falls. As he was walking along the edge of the precipitous bank of the mighty torrent, he suddenly heard footsteps advancing toward him from the opposite direction. Raising his eyes to see who the stranger might be, he recognized, to his horror, in the bright moonlight, the last person on earth whom he wished to meet—the husband of Nina, Mr. Van der Beck.

Frederick hoped that Nina's husband would fail to recognize him, and pulling his hat down over his eyes quickened his pace for the purpose of preventing the latter from obtaining a glimpse of his features. His onward course, however, was brought to a sudden stop by Mr. Van der Beck, who, courteously raising his hat, requested him to give [Pg 152] him a light for his cigar. As the two men stood face to face, the moon, which for a moment past had been obscured by a fleeting cloud, suddenly shone forth again, casting its bright rays full on Frederick's face.

With a hoarse cry, the old man started back when he recognized the man who had so grievously wronged him. His face assumed a terrible expression; his eyes glittered fiercely, and, trembling with suppressed fury from head to foot, he seemed for a moment unable to speak.

The situation was truly an awful one for both.

In striking contrast with the violent passions which surged in the breasts of both the husband and lover of the ill-fated Nina Van der Beck was the deep calm and loveliness of the scene around them. Not a breath of wind stirred the lofty branches of the trees. The moon was sailing majestically across the dark heavens, shedding a light so bright and pure that every blade of grass, every pebble in the path was distinguishable in the silvery sheen. Many feet beneath them, they could hear the mighty rush of waters as they sped on their tumultuous course between their rocky banks, and from a short distance off came the dull and unceasing roar of the great Niagara Falls.

At length Mr. Van der Beck broke the silence and exclaimed in a dry, hollow voice:

&ld............