Stupefied with dread, Bram glanced back, and saw Claire standing at the little gate, watching Chris as he ran. Shading her eyes with her hand, for the glare of the setting sun came full upon her face, she waited until he was out of sight behind a stone wall which separated the last of the fields he crossed from the road. Then she shut the gate, locked it, and went indoors. Bram stared at the farmhouse, the windows of which were shining like jewels in the setting sun. He felt sick and cold. What was the meaning of this secret visit of Chris Cornthwaite to Claire on his wedding day? CHAPTER XIII. AN ILL-MATCHED PAIR. Nobody but simple-hearted Bram Elshaw, perhaps, would have been able to doubt any longer after what he had seen that there was something stronger than cousinly affection between Christian Cornthwaite and Claire. But even this wild visit of Chris to his cousin on his very wedding day did not create more than a momentary doubt, a flying suspicion, in the heart of the devoted Bram. Had he not looked into her dark eyes not many days before, and read there every virtue and every quality which can make womanhood sweet and noble and dear? Unluckily, Chris had been seen on this mysterious visit by others besides Bram. It was not long after the wedding day that Josiah Cornthwaite found occasion, when Bram was alone with him in his office, to break out into invective against the girl who, so he said, was trying to destroy every chance of happiness for his son. Bram, who could not help knowing to what girl he referred, made no comment, but waited stolidly for the information which he saw that Mr. Cornthwaite was anxious to impart. “I think even you, Elshaw, who advocated this young woman so warmly a little while ago, will have to alter your opinion now.” As Bram still looked blank, he went on impatiently--“Don’t pretend to misunderstand. You know very well whom I mean--Claire Biron, of Duke’s Farm. “It has come to my ears that my son had a meeting with her on his wedding day----” Bram’s countenance looked more blank than ever. Mr. Cornthwaite went on-- “I know what I am talking about, and I speak from the fullest information. She sent him a note that very morning; everybody knows about it; my daughter heard her say it was to be given to Mr. Christian at once, and that it was from his cousin Miss Biron. Is that evidence enough for you?” Bram trembled. “There must be some other explanation than the one you have put upon it, sir,” said he quietly but decidedly. “Miss Biron often had to write notes on behalf of her father,” he suggested respectfully. “Pshaw! Would any message of that sort, a mere begging letter, an attempt to borrow money, have induced my son to take the singular, the unprecedented action that he did? Surprising, nay, insulting, his wife before she had been his wife two hours.”