It was evident to me that we could find out nothing about Kate from her; but the look of malignity she wore on her face when she spoke of her step-daughter was the best kind of testimony to me. I rose from my chair, and moved towards the door, followed by Bob Hale. We bade the lady good evening, and she closed the door behind us. Just as we were going down the steps, a buggy, drawn by two handsome horses, came up to the door, which assured us that the lady's engagement was not a pretence used to get rid of us. The horses were driven by a gayly-dressed gentleman. When he alighted, and I obtained a fair view of his face and form, I was considerably interested in him, for I had seen him before. It was the gentleman I had seen at the cottage, with whom my uncle Amos had had some hard words. He was in some way connected with my silent guardian, and I was very anxious to know who and what he was, for such information might be the key to the mystery which shrouded my existence. For the moment I forgot all about Kate. "Come along, Ernest," said Bob, when I paused to observe the gentleman. "Go down to the boat, Bob, and I will be with you in a few minutes." I stepped into a path where the foliage concealed me; but I saw the gentleman looking down the drive-way as if to obtain a second view of me, for I had observed before that he appeared to recognize me. "I will be ready in a moment, Tom," said Mrs. Loraine, opening the front door. Tom! He was a constant visitor, or she would not be thus familiar with him. Who was Tom? I wished she had called him by his surname. As I gazed at his face, while he sat in the buggy, I fancied that it bore some resemblance to that of my uncle. This man had a quarrel with my misanthropic guardian. I had lived at the cottage with uncle Amos from early childhood. I could faintly remember a weary waste of waters before I came to Parkville,--in which the cottage was located,--but nothing more. During the preceding year I had drawn it out of my uncle that my father was dead, and my mother an inmate of an insane asylum, and that no property was left for me by my parents. Who they were, where my father died, or where my mother was imprisoned, he refused to tell me. This gentleman who sat in the buggy had been to the cottage several times. High words had generally attended his visits. I had once asked my uncle who he was, and the fact that an answer was refused, was enough to assure me that a better knowledge of him would assist me in finding a clew to my own history. Mrs. Loraine appeared at the door, and "Tom" nimbly leaped from his seat, and assisted her into the buggy. "Who was that young fellow that came out of the house as I drove up?" asked he, as he took his place at her side. "Ernest Thornton," replied the lady. "Whew!" exclaimed he, as he drove off. CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH ERNEST RELEASES THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN FROM HER PRISON.