A scream of horror broke from the poor woman's lips; but they proceeded to pinion her hands firmly, regardless of the wild entreaties for freedom that she eagerly poured forth. "Oh, be gentle; do not hurt her, if you must take her away!" Flower exclaimed, pleadingly; and at that Mrs. Fielding looked at her almost tenderly and wailed out: "Oh, Flower, do not let them take me away! I am not mad--I am not mad! Oh, save me--you are my only friend!" Smothering her wild cries with a handkerchief, the three men bore her rapidly away. CHAPTER XXVIII. When Flower saw the miserable Mrs. Fielding borne away so rudely by her captors her tender heart swelled with pity for the unhappy woman, and she started to run after them to beg them to be gentler with the poor creature. But she had not taken a dozen steps before her arm was caught in a tight grasp by the old sexton, who whirled her about, and said, sharply: "What would you do? Run after that mad woman, who hates you?" Tears sprung to Flower's eyes, and she answered, sadly: "But she loved me once, before she found out how cruelly she had been imposed on, and I pity her now, for her last words sounded quite rational. Perhaps she has got over her madness." "Humph! It didn't sound like it just now when she was rating you so soundly!" grunted the old man; and feeling her tremble as he held her arm, he looked keenly into her face, and saw that she was deathly pale and wan. "You're just ready to faint, missie," he exclaimed, leading her to the rustic seat beneath the willow, where Mrs. Fielding had been sitting a little while ago. He brought her a draught of fresh, sparkling water, which she drank thirstily, then, with a deep sigh, leaned her aching head on her hands. Divining that she wished to be alone, the kind-hearted old sexton returned to his task of filling up the grave of Daisy Forrest, and the loiterers about the spot slowly dispersed, with one notable exception--that of the gray-haired English-looking stranger who had offended the old sexton by his authoritative manner. This man now approached, and said, in a bluff, hearty manner: "Old man, I did not mean to offend by my speech just now; but I, too, knew something of Daisy Forrest's history, and I was indignant at the deed Mrs. Fielding would have done. I hope you will accept this peace-offering from one who wishes you nothing but kindness." The kind, gray eyes looking at him enforced the speech so emphatically that the sexton melted at once, and replied in kindly terms, while gratefully accepting the offered gold-piece which, like the donor, had an English appearance. Then the stranger moved away and sought Flower, who was sobbing violently now in her seat under the willows. At the sound of his step she raised to his face the beautiful eyes, all drowned in tears, like purple-blue pansies wet with dew. He stopped beside her, and said, gently: "Miss Fielding, this is an opportune meeting for you and me."