It is pleasant to indulge the habit of speculation, and to this day I never weary of wondering how it is that a person can perform acts in a moment of excitement that he could do at no other time; or why it is that one often collapses with fear the moment all cause for anxiety is gone.

The latter was my case when the patroon left me to rejoin his companions. Ever since my arrival at the manor-house, I had known myself in great danger. The alertness required, the readiness to defend my life at a moment’s notice had caused an almost continuous strain upon my nerves that was well nigh unendurable. But, in spite of the two bold attempts on my life, I had borne up bravely and had not flinched.

The moment the patroon left me, however, I felt my courage slipping after him. As I counted his footsteps, as they became fainter and fainter in the distance, I began to fear that he would return. Instead of joy at my narrow escape, I feared lest it should not prove an escape at all. Suppose Louis should tell him who I was. I had every reason in the world to believe in the dwarf’s honesty; the very fact that I began to suspect him at the moment he had delivered me from such imminent danger 234shows the power of the reaction that had taken hold of me.

My one idea was to get away. But at the first step my knees doubled under me and I stumbled on the ground, weak and exhausted. The grass was wet with dew and when my face and hands touched it I felt somewhat refreshed. I rolled over on my back and lay for some time looking up at the stars. There was one cold star just overhead which I kept watching as it crept across a narrow gap in the foliage above me. The stars move so slowly, and I thought afterwards what a long time I must have lain there noting nothing but that slow-paced point of light.

After a while I began to feel ashamed of my feebleness of mind and body. I recalled how I had once berated a man for cowardice who was in much the same plight on that flight from Paris years before when my sister was a child and in my care. I began to apply the same words to myself that I had applied to him then, and presently my spirit was returning to me. With the change came, fiercer than ever, my hatred for my enemy. This slaying a man in the dark and by traps was more than I could stand. What infuriated me most was the presence of Annetje in the fray. Of course the patroon thought that it was his daughter who had ridden out with me, yet he led the attack in spite of her presence. Though he knew she would sustain no bodily harm, he should have remembered the 235terrible shock it must have given her. This brutality to her was the match that kindled me into countenance again. With the thought of it I was on my feet, with my hand upon my sword hilt, ready to keep my promise to Annetje Dorn.

But as yet I had no plan. I set out, however, towards the tannery, resolved to get back my own clothes. I had no difficulty in finding the way, but I had no light and it was slow work unloading the debris we had piled upon the grave. It was done at last, however, and when I reached the coffin I pried off the cover with the blade of my sword.

It made me shudder to put on the clothes that the dead man had worn for so many hours, but I forced myself to do it and felt the better when it was done. It was about dawn by this time, and after I had hidden Barker’s clothes—for I might need them as a disguise—I occupied an hour, restoring the corner to its former appearance of undisturbed disorder.

As it was now broad daylight I set out for the manor-house, minded to stay about till shortly before nine o’clock, for at that time I knew the patroon intended to set out with Louis for the Hanging Rock. I sat down to wait, but soon an incident occurred that spoiled all the plans I had been forming in the last hour.

I had taken a seat at the foot of a tree in the park, merely to wait till later. Soon I heard footsteps, 236and then saw the young mistress coming with a basket in her hand. I rose to my feet.

“Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I said.

She gave a scream and dropped her basket. I was by her side instantly.

“What is the matter?” I asked, excitedly, never thinking that it was the sight of me which had caused her to cry out and drop her basket.

“Matter! We thought you were dead. The utmost search, my father says, revealed no trace of the ruffians who attacked you. How did you escape?”

For a moment I was in doubt as to whether to tell her the truth or not. Then we sat down on the grass and I related the whole adventure to her from the beginning to the end, keeping back only the names of the persons who had been involved. Of the fact that her father had been privy to it, I gave not the least hint.

How truly Shakespeare knew the innermost heart of woman when he wrote: “She thank’d me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her.” As I told my tale her eyes opened wider and wider. I seemed to stand in her simple imagination like one of the heroes of old time. She did not realize that I had done nothing to help myself, that my escape had all been arranged for me. Her cheeks glowed with interest and sympathy. I think it must have been at that 237moment that the feeling for me was born which led her to so many kind acts in the next few days.

“Oh,” she cried with a little gasp of breath. “I am so glad. You are so brave. Let me tell my father all about it.”

“Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I replied, “will you grant me a favor?”

“Anything, Monsieur St. Vincent.”

“It is this. Do not tell your father. Do not tell anyone. Your father is often ill, and if I told him all it might excite him. Will you leave this to me?”

“Yes, if you wish it.”

“I do. You are very kind. Where were you going when I alarmed you so?”

“I was going to the woods with a basket of flowers. Will you carry them for me?”

We picked up the basket she had dropped and rearranged the flowers that had fallen upon the ground. Then we set out, taking a footpath through the woods, which brought us quickly to a little summer house perched high upon a jutting cliff.

“This is the Hanging Rock, Monsieur St. Vincent. It is what gives the name to our estate. It was called so even before my father got possession of the rock itself. This is one of the last grants we received from Governor Fletcher. Governor Bellamont shows small favor to us.”

Her sweet voice and innocent manner took my breath away. The relations between her father and 238the government were what I should hardly expect her to speak to me about; yet she did speak of them without the least hesitation or embarrassment. Could it be that she was innocent of all knowledge of what went on within the boundary of her father’s manor? It was an impossible thought at first, yet I could not associate a knowledge of such things with the expression of her face at that moment. Her features were lit up with a gentle sadness, such as one sees in the pictures of the saints. I could believe no wrong of her, yet how could I explain it? Did she not know that her sire had been expelled in disgrace from the governor’s council? Was her only knowledge of her father’s faults drawn from his unkindness to herself? She cut my meditations short by an abrupt question:

“Will you carry my basket for me? I cut all the flowers in my garden yesterday and brought them here.”

She pointed to a large basket and asked me again to take it up and follow her. I soon knew where we were going. The vaguely familiar scene grew more and more distinct as I trudged silently at her back. I knew instinctively that we were passing through the same wood where I had wandered in my trance, where I had met her when she gave me the miniature of my dead sister. We were going to my sister’s grave. Yes, I knew the place instantly. I saw her lift the piece of loose sod which covered the stone marked with Ruth’s name.

239Mistress Miriam sat on the grass by the side of the grave, binding the flowers into wreaths and bunches which she laid about. When she placed the last she knelt and clasped her hands in prayer. Her lips murmured and the tears followed one another down her cheeks and fell among the flowers.

I turned away, a great pain in my heart. Here was I by my sister’s grave, yet I could not throw myself upon it and weep out my sorrow. Her only mourner was a Roman Catholic. O God, it is not for me to question the mystery of Thy ways! Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

On our way home I found it necessary to exert my full power of self-control lest I betray my secret.

“You are affected,” she said. “It shows that you have a warm heart.”

“Will you tell me more about her?” I asked.

Mistress Van Volkenberg related how Ruth had come to New York, and how she had suffered longing and sorrowful suspense for the brother who did not come to her. Then she took service. The young mistress of the manor-house fell in love with Ruth, as everyone did who knew her. Even the hard patroon at times seemed to feel her sweetness.

“But he should be forgiven. My father has strange seizures. He is good to me when his infirmity is not upon him.” She stopped suddenly. “I ought not to be talking like this to you who are a stranger.”

240I did not feel that we were strangers, but I could not tell her so. On the way back to the manor-house a chance word recalled to me her innocence of her father’s crimes. I followed this clew and directed the conversation towards a revelation of herself.

Mistress Van Volkenberg was a woman of high spirit. Had I not seen her stand out against her angry parent in defense of Ruth? Yet she was gentle withal. In our conversation, she showed no bitterness against her father, who had so little claim to the honor which she bore him. He must have been dull indeed not to see his daughter’s worth; yet I wondered how she could be so blind to his defects. She soon told me more of his dealings with her.

“Father does not like to have me go to the city,” she said. “I wish he did not care, for I love to go. Yesterday morning was the first time for so long, and he bade me not to tarry. The merry scenes on market day before the fort, and the ships coming and going with all the strange new faces of their crews—one loves to watch such things. Ah, you should have been here in the old days when the pirates came freely into the port. I have seen old Blackbeard and the Painted Dwarf strutting along the Battery in silk and cloth of gold like any king. But the Earl has stopped all that.”

Her face had lighted up with innocent enthusiasm as she recalled the sights of the gorgeously 241appareled buccaneers; but the lightness died away with her last words, and she ended with a sigh.

We had nearly reached the manor when Mistress Van Volkenberg darted from my side. Almost in a moment she was some distance away, and kneeling in the grass.

“Poor little thing,” I heard her croon gently.

When I came to her she was stroking an unfortunate bird that had broken its wing and lay helpless on the ground. The kind-hearted girl nursed it tenderly till its little heart ceased to beat with fear, and it snuggled safely in her hand. As she carried it into the house, I could not help but think how little fit such a place was for the scenes I had witnessed in the last hour. The house where Ronald Guy had died, where they had stolen upon me in the dead of night to take my life, the house which sheltered the man who was responsible for my adventure at the tannery seemed no place for an innocent girl like Miriam, whose tender heart was all alive with sympathy at the sufferings of the poor bird she had found in the grass.

“Yes, yes,” she said, stroking it and talking gently as we walked along. “I shall take it home and nurse it till it can fly away. I cannot fly away either, so we shall play together.”

By this time we had nearly reached the house. For some moments I had been afraid lest this trip should occupy so much time that I should arrive at the manor-house after nine o’clock, the hour at 242which the patroon and Louis were to set out for the rock. As we neared the house, I espied a man who was............