“But think of the strength of the man, Arabella. You and I know what he was suffering. Yet he answered with never a waver in his voice, ‘All right, little cousin, I am here and no harm shall come to you. I’ll help you, but you must be a good little girl and stay quiet and get well. Shall I have my mother come to sit with you?’ She cried out at once, ‘Please do, Jack, Cousin Martha did not steal my baby,’ and then he insisted that she put her head back on the pillow and close her eyes. When she did so Jack had the courage to sit on the bedside and sing softly some old song about the sea that they had sung together when children. The poor girl fell fast asleep as he sung, but still clung to Jack’s brown hand.” Chapman gave a groan when he finished as if the harrowing scene was before him. “Blessings on the stout hearted boy,” whimpered the old lady. “Lucy never calls, as formerly, for her grandfather or husband. In fact, when Burton entered her room after that awful night she flew into a perfect frenzy, accusing him of stealing her child and putting some imp that, at some time, she had seen in Florida, in his place, notwithstanding his protestations and entreaties. Her mad fury increased to such a degree that the doctor insisted that Burton should leave the room, and has forbidden him to again visit his wife until there is a change in her mental condition. Of course, Lucy knows nothing of the death of her grandfather.” The man’s voice became choked as he uttered the last sentence. “Have Jack and Mr. Burton been together since Jack’s return?” inquired Arabella, after a long silence. “I think not, except once when they were closeted in the library for two hours the day after Jack arrived. When they came out I was in the hall and heard Jack say, as he left the library with Burton, ‘I shall hold you to your promise. You must wait until my cousin be in a condition of mind to express her wishes in that matter.’ Jack’s voice was firm and emphatic and his face was very stern. Burton replied, ‘I gave you my word of honor.’ He seemed in great distress and mental anguish. My opinion is that he had proposed disappearing forever, and I think so for the reason that he had asked me to dispose of a great amount of his personal securities, and to bring him currency for the proceeds in bills of large denomination, and Jack must have objected,” rejoined Chapman. “I am sorry for Mr. Burton and am glad Jack would not let him go away,” said the kind spinster. “Well I am not,” cried Chapman savagely, notwithstanding his fatigue. “They would better let him go. This misfortune is the physical one that long ago I told you was possible. The next may be spiritual and result in some emotional or fanatic outburst of barbarous religious fervor that may again disgrace us all. Then may develop the bestial propensities of the sensual nature of savages and may result in crime and ruin the house of Dunlap forever.”