"I could have watched myself, but I was afraid that sailor might come; and it was he that fired at you in the road. He had gone to Glenarm to watch you and keep you away from here. Uncle Henry came back to-day and sent word that he wanted to see my father, and I asked you to come to help us." "I thank you for that." "And there was another man--a stranger, back there near the road; I could not make him out, but you will be careful,--please! You must think very ill of me for bringing you into all this danger and trouble." "I am grateful to you. Please turn all your troubles over to me." "You did what I asked you to do," she said, "when I had no right to ask, but I was afraid of what might happen here. It is all right now and we are going away; we must leave this place." "But I shall see you again." "No! You have--you have--Helen. You don't know me at all! You will find your mistake to-morrow." She was urging me toward the steps that led up to the house. The sob was still in her throat, but she was laughing, a little hysterically, in her relief that her father had come off unscathed. "Then you must let me find it out to-morrow; I will come to-morrow before you go." "No! No! This is good-by," she said. "You would not be so unkind as to stay, when I am so troubled, and there is so much to do!" We were at the foot of the stairway, and I heard the shop door snap shut. "Good night, Rosalind!" "Good-by; and thank you!" she whispered. CHAPTER XVII HOW THE NIGHT ENDED One year ago my path was green, My footstep light, my brow serene; Alas! and could it have been so One year ago? There is a love that is to last When the hot days of youth are past: Such love did a sweet maid bestow One year ago. I took a leaflet from her braid And gave it to another maid. Love, broken should have been thy how, One year ago. --_Landor_. As my horse whinnied and I turned into the wood a man walked boldly toward me. "My dear Donovan, I have been consoling your horse during your absence. It's a sad habit we have fallen into of wandering about at night. I liked your dinner, but you were rather too anxious to get rid of me. I came by boat myself!" Gillespie knocked the ashes from his pipe and thrust it into his pocket. I was in no frame of mind for talk with him, a fact which he seemed to surmise. "It's late, for a fact," he continued; "and we both ought to be in bed; but our various affairs require diligence." "What are you doing over here?" I demanded. I was too weary and too perplexed for his nonsense, and in no mood for confidences. I needed time for reflection and I had no intention of seeking or of imparting information at this juncture. "Well, to tell the truth--" "You'd better!"