It was four o’clock on a crisp January day when Carolina found herself in the throng on Fifth Avenue. It was the first pleasant day after a week of wretched weather, and the whole world seemed to have welcomed it. Carolina was all in gray, with a gray chinchilla muff. Her colour glowed, her eyes flashed, as she walked along with her chin tilted upward so that many who saw her carried in their minds for the rest of the day the recollection of the girl who had formed so attractive a picture. Suddenly and directly in front of her, Carolina saw a young woman, arm in arm with a tall man, whose broad-brimmed, soft felt hat, added to a certain nameless quality in his clothes and type of face, proclaimed him to be a Southerner. They were laughing and chatting with the blitheness of two children, frankly staring at the panorama of Fifth Avenue on a bright day. If the whim seized them to stop and gaze into shop windows, they did it with the same disregard of appearances which induced them to link arms and not to notice the attention they attracted. No one could possibly mistake them for anything but what they were--bride and groom. Having reached her brother’s house, Carolina paused for a moment in an unpremeditated rush of interest in the young couple. Something in the man’s appearance stirred some vague memory, but even as she searched in her mind for the clue, she saw an expression of abject terror spread over the young bride’s face, and pulling her husband madly after her by the arm to which she still clung, she darted across the walk and into a waiting cab. Her husband, after a hasty glance in the direction she had indicated, plunged after her, and the wise cabby, scenting haste, if not danger, without waiting for orders, lashed his horse, the cab lurched forward and was quickly swallowed up in the line of moving vehicles. This had necessarily created a small commotion in the avenue, and a tall man who had also been walking south behind Carolina and who would soon have met the young couple face to face, chanced to raise his head at the crack of the cabman’s whip, and thus caught a glimpse of the bride’s face out of the window of the cab. Instantly, with an exclamation, he looked wildly for another cab. None was at hand, but Sherman Lee’s dog-cart stood at the curb, and Carolina had paused on the lowest step of the house and was looking at him. There was desperate anxiety in his face. "May I use your carriage, madam? I promise not to injure the horse!" It was the strange young man who had stood in the balcony all during the opera of "Faust." Carolina never knew why she did it, but something told her that this young man’s cause was just. In spite of the pleading beauty of the young couple, she arrayed herself instinctively on their pursuer’s side. "Yes, yes!" she cried. "Follow them!" He sprang in, and the groom loosed the horse’s head and climbed nimbly to his place. A moment more and the dog-cart was lost to view.