But that a bridegroom should secretly depart on the evening of his wedding day, that a governor should take flight on the evening before his inauguration, was a course of action only to be explained on the ground of insanity; and yet Regulas Rothsay was always considered one of the most level-headed and mentally well balanced among the rising young statesmen of the country. Conjecture had once been wild as to the cause of his disappearance--had he been murdered, or kidnapped, or both? Those were the questions then. Conjecture was now rampant as to the cause of his sudden flight and self expatriation to the Indian Territory. Had he suddenly gone mad? Or committed a capital crime which was on the eve of discovery? These were the questions now. Every newspaper was full of the problem, which none but one could solve, and she was bound to secrecy. But it gave her inexpressible pain to know that his motives and his character were being discussed and censured for that course of conduct for which only herself was to be blamed, and which only she could explain. A word from her would show him in a very different light before his critics. But she must not speak that word to save his reputation. So Cora was anxious to leave the city. The next morning the whole family set out on their return journey to Rockhold, where they arrived early in the afternoon. They found everything in good order, for Cora had taken the precaution to write to the housekeeper, and warn her of the return of the family. The grief of the servants for the loss of their kind and gentle old mistress broke out afresh at the sight of the young lady. And it was long before the latter could soothe and quiet them. Fortunately Mr. Rockharrt had gone at once to his room, and so he escaped annoyance from their loud lamentations, and they escaped stern rebuke for their want of self-control. The two young Rockharrts had left the family party at North End, to inspect the condition of the works, and were to remain there overnight. Old Aaron Rockharrt, Sylvanus Haught, and Cora Rothsay were, therefore, the only ones who sat down at the once full dinner table. The meal passed in almost utter silence, for neither Sylvan nor Cora ventured to address one word to the hard old man who, whenever they had spoken to him since his loss of his wife, had replied in short, harsh words, or not replied at all. The brother and sister, therefore, only spoke in suppressed tones, at intervals, to each other. After dinner the old man bade them an abrupt good night, and left the room to retire to his own chamber. Cora felt sorry for him, despite all his harshness. She stepped after him and asked: "Grandfather, can I be of any service to you at all? Help you at your--" He stopped her by turning and bending his gray brows over the fierce black eyes which fixed her motionless. He stared at her for an instant and then said: "No. Certainly not," and turned and went up stairs.